Bim Bim Bop
Fiction. Based on Two Dinner Experiences in K-Town.
Written by Mingjie Zhai
“I have nothing against gays, but this gay dude was harassing me, telling me what he liked what he disliked about roommates, telling me what I can or can not put down on his table…It was…”
“Yeah, it was extra.”
“So I took a video of him barging into my room and stealing my friend’s stereo. I complained to management, and they had him move out within a month,” Gerry says to Angelie.
It is funny seeing Gerry, a black comedian, qualify his statement by first acknowledging the victimhood of being “gay” before dropping the reality of the trauma/drama and controlling nature of his roommate.
“I swear, white privilege is real,” he says.
Angelie nods though she doesn’t agree. But she is in his house so she is agreeable.
She is at his new abode in K-Town. It is homely. Small, but comfortable. It has a nice kitchen sink, wooden floors, and two bedrooms and a bathroom. She is witnessing his “arrival” at independence. This is where he will write his best comedic lines.
“He was fucking crazy,” he said.
This triggers Angelie. As someone sensitive to the word, “crazy,” Angelie’s natural instinct is to make him wrong, shame him. She pauses and gets creative.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“There are no such things as crazy people.
There’s just people.
Some are just better at hiding their crazy than others.”
Gerry starts laughing obnoxiously and heads toward his phone. Classic line. He wants to use it for his comedy bit.
“That’s so true,” he says.
“I’m sensitive to labels,” she says.
“Including racism,” she says.
“Yeah, racism is fucked up,” he says.
“You know what I think racism is?” he says, “It is simply anybody who judges a person’s character by their race.”
She smiles. “That’s deep.”
He begins to roll the joint. The buds are fat, perhaps a gram thick, and the smell of indica, created a purple chakra around the energy field.
Gerry has been fantasizing about Angelie for quite some time now. He has put up with her emotional dumping…something about a man she couldn’t get over. Now he wants to be the man who comforts her. He wanted to show her what a man can really do for her. His best advice for her was to move on, but she was stubborn. He could tell. It takes one to know one.
The joint now looks like a perfect doobie. Like the blimp on Green Day’s Dookie album cover. He lit the end and took a long drag.
The smell of purple wafted in the air, only heightening Angelie’s sensitivity to energies, emotions and fantasies.
“Spend the night tonight,” he says.
She looked over at the couch across from the dining table. The couch that was waiting for them so they could watch Defiant Ones, per her request. It is a show she has requested because her daemons wanted her to see it. She felt his imagination run wild on that couch with her.
“I have to get going. I’m sorry, I must get home and feed Roxy.”
On her way to his apartment home welcoming in K-town, she has an intimate conversation with her capricorn sister, Pappi, about strengthening their focus and becoming clear with their respective shadows, light, and higher path.
“Saturn, our sign, is in full alignment,” she says to her.
“Good, it’s time to take all that bullshit out, and stick to our straight and narrow path,” Angelie tells her.
“When are you going to start your podcast?” she asks Pappi.
“Thank you for reminding me; keep holding me accountable,” she says to Angelie.
“And keep holding me accountable to staying loyal to the love of my life,” she says.
Joshua is walking Angelie to her car, down the streets of K-town, across where the green Gaylord sign glowed upon them. He points out the cockroaches that were swarming around a half eaten burger tossed aside under a tree.
Joshua has just passed through the drama to secure his abode in this neighborhood, but for some reason, he is still not happy. He is lonely and the energy of that loneliness creeps under her skin like the cockroaches on a hamburger. She remembers Bruss, the founder of a PR firm, that had invited her out to a few of the festivals she had covered, tell her, “Be a cockroach,” when she had asked him for advice on how to run her company.
Cockroaches survive nuclear bombs.
She’s leaving behind the cockroache lifestyle.
Angelie choses to be a phoenix.
It’s time to fly, Angelie. You can’t settle here in L.A. Time to fly baby girl, fly.
For the Hero’s Workshop
Journaling, Journalism, and the Personal Journey