Thread by @VisionPoet

#TrashterpieceTheater #TPTEpisode9
THE BITTER BABY DAD
aka Stop Calling My Phone Dude
aka I Don't Want Your Girl
aka York?

Two episodes ago (#TPTEpisode7), I told you I had another story about Alisha. I also mentioned that homie crying in the last episode (#TPTEpisode8) wasn’t the only one who cried after threatening me. This is where those two back stories meet.
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After Alisha and I broke up, for good, I was devastated. Took me hella time to recover. But I healed and amazing things started happening for me.
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About year and some change later, I was chillin at home when Perritti (my pop, remember the name) called me.
Me: Whassup Pop?
Perritti: Something you wanna tell me?
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So I’m mad confused bc this honestly could’ve gone anywhere from me wearing his Gucci sneakers when I was a teen, or sneaking girls in the house back in the day. But,
Me: Nah, whatchu mean?
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Perritti: You know you can tell me anything, son?
Me: Um, Nah. I’m good. What’s up?
Perritti: I’m a the movie and I just saw Alisha. And she’s pregnant as fxck!
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So I’m calm like, “Oh. It’s not mine if that’s what you’re wondering.” But I could feel the skepticism through the phone. “Nah, Pop. Seriously. It’s not mine.
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bruHe believed me, and said we’d talk about it later since he was out being a thottyh. He didn’t say the last part, but point still stands. About two minutes later he called back loud like, “YO!! She’s with the guy yo. She’s with the guy yo!!”
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He’s laughing his ass off. “BRUHHHHHH! You ain’t gon believe this shit. He looks just like you son. JUST like YOU dude.You could hear my Pop’s date in the background like, “He does look just like your son.”
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So he’s laughing uncontrollably. She’s laughing. And I don’t know how to feel. “I mean, JUST like you son. Except he’s not as tall, maybe 6’5, and has no big man swag at all. He’s just big and goofy for no reason.”
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Perritti just kept going in. “He’s one of those big guys that give yall big guys a bad name. It’s like he’s still going through puberty and shit.” He’s in tears laughing.
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“Oh shit.She just saw me. Fuck it!” He’s laughing while Alisha is looking at him. “Yo, she really went and got a bootleg you. She went to Canal St. and tried to get a knockoff you.” I make him hang up the phone and go watch his movie.
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Fast forward a couple of years. Me and Alisha are on speaking terms, somehow (I’m a Libra, we be forgiving people and shit). Alisha is working for a marketing firm and we begin to do business together. She’s still with the guy, They have a son
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The only issue was, whenever she’d have too much to drink, she’d shoot her shot. But I used to curve it and pretend it didn’t happen. A few months in she sends me this Four Page Letter, Aaliyah ass email. Read a line or two, then closed it.
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Same thing the following week. In the title it’s like, “I’m sure you won’t read this but…” She was right. Didn’t read it. But meanwhile, we’re still doing business when she’s sober. Next weekend, same thing. “Please read” in the title.
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Then the email was, “Sorry about our baby.” I opened it up like a dumbass. Goes into how she wished she would’ve had our baby. How she wishes her son was mine. Says I’d be a better dad than her BF. And now I’m triggered AF. Closed email.
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I stopped answering her business calls for a few days. She leaves messages apologizing. We talk the following week. Business ONLY! Things go back to normal. We work on a few projects. They pop! So much so that I forget about the dumb shit.
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Then 1am on a Saturday night I get a call from a random 717 area code. I don’t answer. It keeps calling. I finally pick up. “Imma fxcking kill you nxgga!”
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Me: Who dis?
Voice: Leave my family the fxck alone or Imma kill you!
Me: Who dis?
Voice: You know who it is. It’s (insert his weak ass name)
Me: Fam, I don’t want your…
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He interrupts me. Goes ham yapping his face off. I cant get a word in. So I hang up. He calls back. I send him to vm. Keeps calling. And calling. And calling. I go back to sleep.
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HOURS later, he’s still calling. I finally answer again. “The fxck you want nxgga!?”
Him: You think I wasn’t gonna read the emails? You aint better than me. You’re not a better man than me. You ain’t a better dad than me!
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So now I feel bad. He read that dumb ass email she sent. Before I can express my empathy to homie, he starts going back in. “Imma see you today nxgga! It’s over for you!”
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I try to get homie to see that I NEVER tried to bag his girl. That SHE was the one sending me shit. Meanwhile he on some,
“Fxck talking. You can’t talk your way out of this poet boy. Imma see you!” Something about “Poet Boy” was the last straw
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You gon wanna see me? 2764 Cranston Road, Red door. First floor!”
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“Nah, I’m not coming to your house. I’m not stupid.”
Me: Well it’s a parking lot around the corner. Let me know when you’re there!”
I hang up, start putting my clothes on.
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He calls back. “Gimme two hours. Me and my nxggas coming to see you!”
Me: You… AND nxggas?
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“Oh whatchu scared now? Me and my nxggas from York coming to see you bxtch!”
And I could think of was… YORK? Not NEW York. Not York STREET in Philly. YORK PA?
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York fxcking Pennsylvania?
I started laughing uncontrollably. “You GOTTA be shitting me?”
He gets big mad about me dissing his “hood” and hangs up.
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I call my homes. Tell them a caravan of nxggas from York are coming to jump me. They laugh at the fact that dudes from YORK are driving to jump someone. They start to tool up in anticipation. Everyone is lock and loaded preppin for the worst.
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He got super quiet. Then, “Whatchu… Whatchu… Whatchu saying you gon shoot us?”
I said nothing. The call got silent for about ten seconds. Then he hung up. I called the homies and told them to stand down. After the laughed at baseball bats.
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J Black said, “Baseball bats? Da fuck he think this shit is, The Warriors?”
(sidenote, that was a lit ass movie!)
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Hours later, homie calls back AGAIN. This time crying (I can’t make this shit up). “I dont understand? I’m just a rebound. Her family always compares me to you. They never even gave me a chance. Now she wants you as the father of our son.”
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I feel bad for bul. “Alisha is fickle fam. She cheated on me too. I’m sure yall will…” He interrupts. “She only wanted me because I remind her of you…”
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I let him vent. And cry. He apologized. I wished him luck. He hung up. They broke up soon after.
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Saw homie in person twice at events Alisha and I curated. Once picking up his son. Another dropping him off. We just head nodded. He did SORTA look like me. Completely swagless though. Perritti is always right.
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Thanks for reading #TrashterpieceTheater. I'll be posting one every weekday at noon for the next couple weeks. If you wanna read more today, Eps 1-17 are on my IG Story, archived in the highlights (@ visionpoet)

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