Not your Standard Dude by Hans Z.

"So I wake up this morning and my head is pretty hazy. In fact you could say that I’m feeling pretty lazy. You see the night before I got a little crazy. But that’s nothing about me that you don’t already know. I’m really into living life these days so when I got a message from my homie Willy asking me if I wanted to grab some dim sum I couldn’t say no.
So we go for some dim sum and you know it’s really pretty yum. The soup was kinda whack and I probably won’t go back, unless of course I took a little smack. But I don’t like to fly that way. I do it the high way and often with a little sauce. Last night it was beer and tequila that really made me squeela.
Back to the meal, it was a real treat. Willy ate so much you could have called it a feat. But really he just mowed lot’s of feet, coming from a chicken. Due to the heavy electro shit I’m rocking right now my typing has started to quicken. So I’m feeling pretty smitten, just like a kitten. My cat is the pride of the pack now though. One old G, and after all his name is Napoleon.
Stop getting sidetracked, on with the story. Bring it back just like morning glory. Oasis was my first ever concert in grade 9 and it was fine. But speaking of an oasis as we were walking back to Kensington to fetch the car I heard a crazy beat from afar. This shit was hella bumping in fact extra shlumping give me one more minute and my body will be crumping. If your house of pain then you are obviously jumping.
We were hit by a waft, and it was definitely soft, it made me feel like I was surrounded by a pillow. The scent was of nag champa extra strength and it could be just a hunch but when I saw buddy eating lunch, I realized that his power to munch might have come from a herbal remedy.
But back to the melody that drew me in at first. The beats were popping off and it gave me quite a thirst. They was reggae after all and it made me feel so fine. I forgot that outside it was pouring down like wine. The inside of the store had an internal shine, ooo wee did it ever make me feel fine. Not a kid with swine flu, not an old man from Mississippi with the blues. More liked blessed like a good man with a really large crew of extra special homies and chronies.
So I snooped around the store and the gear was hella fly, my body started to buzz and I thought that I was high. I cam across some hats, they was pretty fat. Ya maybe with a ph and I’m not talking levels. Although I’m on many different kinds of those. The theme was Bob Marley, and you know he’s a Rasta King. So we got something in common, a bond, a mesh a link. Despite the colour of his skin on the inside we is all pink. Various shades of red, and you know that bones is white. We got more in common then I first had realized, and that’s the power of the mind, working overtime.
I was bouncing my head and then I found the perfect piece to put on it. The colours caught my eye, red, yellow, green and black. As soon as I saw it I gave myself a crack on the back, and said boy this one’s for you. Now I’m part of the club, Jah’s soldier himself. Did some more walking and even got to talk with the lovely store owner, he was even higher than the other guy with the food. No munchies for him in sight but that’s alright he was still keeping it tight.
So I noticed me some right bright socks and the put me in a lock. It’s just the kind of shit that I like to rock. I was satisfied and my eyes were getting crazy, I knew if I stayed any longer my wallet would be empty so I put a cap on it, just like my drinking habit. Haha that’s a joke, as you know I’m an open can enthusiast. Rocking my beer helmet like it’s my job, and that don’t make me a slob. Just a dude that knows he’d rather party than think with his nob. Don’t get it twisted I’m no prude, and I’m sometimes crude, but really rarely rude. Pretty much I’m not your standard dude.
But speaking of manners, I payed for my gear and the man overcharged me. I was oblivious but he must have felt some guilt because as I started looking some more he came up to me and said hey mon you like dis music and I told him yes, he actually read my mind, this whole time I have been thinking about buying a cd. He said mon I took you money and I wasn’t trying to be funny but I charged you too much so have some free beats. It was quite surreal that he knew how to keep it real. He gave me a special treat. Now I’m lifted bumping to that shit. Brrrrr what happened to that boy.
But the moral of the story is that kindness didn’t kill the cat it made him larger than a mouse killing fiend. It made him prouder than a Father of his first born child. It made him greater than Picasso, at painting the picture of life. The world is rife with anger but sometimes you gotta step back and think of your fellow man. Sometimes we lose the plan but we can and will stand up and keep it trill, make sure that every man woman and child will always pay they bills and conquer misery and deprivation. Once I here that is happening Ill be alright with the state of the nation!
The author would like to thank Willy Raskin, and the lovely Rastafarian gentleman at the head shop next to the green p parking in Kensington for inspiring this verbal outburst."