Against All Advice, Haters Stay Mad
They Don’t Hear Me Though
With furious spite and frothing verbs, bruh ran up on me. Can you believe dude?
Told me, he didn’t like the sight of me at my flossiest and most stuntin-on-fools.
Verily, I would not indulge a hater, nor his wills. So I countered:
“I know why you mad though.”
Then hit him with the:
“If I was you, I’d be mad at me too.”
Haters are known for their diatribes and saltiness. Undaunted by my effervescent poise, he looked me square in the eyes and said:
“Your square eyes are amazing.”
All right he didn’t say that but it would have been hilarious and true.
Nah he looked me in the eyes and said:
“You doing something real fresh, and I see that. The way you style on me, specifically, is not lost on a hater. Bravo.”
Then he started to clap, with his head down, shaking it side to side.
As he spaketh his pointed animus, wisdom calmed my breathing. I also had to drink water because I could taste the sodium molecules drifting from his heart into my purified air.
Golly, they never made a hater salty as this one here. My eye mucus puckered. It felt like ocean breeze around him.
Elaborating he added, “You make my jewelry resemble aluminum foil. Your ambition is unrivaled. It seems the direness of my broke state is only equal to the luster of your success. And despite your repeated attempts to help, by modeling prolific behavior, I can’t help myself but to hate you. I mean that.”
While this would set the common fool awry, I reached out to him with open arms offering:
“Listen good, Pervis, ‘cause I’m only gonna say it once. Every time you get mad, I know I’m blessed. It makes me stronger. The hatred you hold for me, while you remain anchored in expired Ramen noodles and loneliness, is a joke.”
My words were getting out of hand, and I remembered a good person from the past had told me not to get too carried away. Instead, we could shoot the Fair One.
He said, “I don’t think you want to go there with a desperate man. I’m liable to do anything. Mess up those well-placed extensions you got last Wednesday…”
“You been following me, hater?”
At that, he took off. But just before he was fully out of view, as his burnt sneakers crumpled into ripples of pavement, he scowled at me.
He fixed his face to show mostly nostril and that other space between your nostril and your cheekbone that wrinkles when you mad.