Comedy Open Mic Round #26: Kaneesha Learns a Lesson

I swore if I entered a second one of these I'd avoid talking about poop.

If you absolutely must have a fecal-friendly comic anecdote, you can read my entry for Round 25 (which, in a moment of shameless self promotion, I will point out is still open for upvotes if it makes you laugh--don't delay, act now!).

So today we stray from the toilets to the streets. Like 'The Fist of God' before it, this is 100% true and I will place my hand on any book you like to so solemnly affirm. I prefer an original print edition of The Necronomicon, but if all you have handy is a beat up old Harlequin romance or John Grisham paperback, I guess it's any port in a storm. This here's a story I call, "Kaneesha Learns a Lesson" a-la the American Girls series of young woman life chronicles so popular among bookstore customers.

Source: Goodreads.com

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My wife and I knew the neighborhood wasn't the classiest place before we bought the house, but what can I say: it was 2009, the housing bubble had burst, and if we were going to get out of the smaller condo and into a larger piece of the American Dream, this was the way was going to be. We found the place, a bank foreclosure, while driving neighborhoods in search of places within our budget, and liked it enough to pick it up, have some work done during the autumn, and move in come winter time.

Our back yard abuts the back yard of the property just behind us. Beyond that is their home, and beyond that is another neighborhood street. One night I had stayed up until almost 3 o'clock in the morning since I didn't have to work until later in the day. As anybody with dogs knows, the last thing you do before you go to bed is let your critters out to potty because the last thing you want to wake up to is setting your foot in the middle of a giant pile of crap.

I know, I know, I promised. Sorry, everything's funnier with poop.

Anyway: I let the dogs outside to run around the fenced in yard and since it was a nice spring night, I decided to stand out on the porch while they went sniffing and exploring. I wasn't outside but a minute or so when, from the next street over, one house or so down from the neighbor's house against which our back yard abuts, came the sound and headlights of a car driving up. This isn't unusual: we've got people coming and going at all hours of the day and night in our housing development. What was out of the ordinary though was that the car pulled up, turned off, but left its lights on.

I didn't think much of it since I couldn't see the car, just the beams of the headlights, and as I whistled for the dogs to stop mucking around and use the bathroom like they were supposed to, I heard a car door open and caught part of an argument in progress. The gentleman involved was quite angry, as evidenced by the words coming out of his mouth:

"--a hoe!"

Ah, another argument about gardening! Curiosity aroused, I waited while the dogs congregated around me on the porch, wondering why I wasn't letting them in since I had just called for them moments ago.

Following this, another car door opened, and a female voice joined the chorus. I couldn't make out exactly what she said, as she wasn't quite as high-strung as her male companion was, but his response to this was to cut her off by yelling, "No! You a ho!" Again this young woman attempted to defend herself, and again she was interrupted by a forceful accusation: "I ain't listenin' to you! You a ho!"

At this point it became clear the argument wasn't about gardening, which aroused my curiosity enough to ignore the dogs, which had by now descended the porch and returned to the yard, having realized Daddy wasn't being serious when he called the first time. I'm a terrible parent.

The woman insisted on defending herself, and the battle continued with me only able to catch bits and pieces. The gist of it, as I gathered, was the guy thought the woman was a ho, and the woman believed he was in error. I thought there was the possibility of a misunderstanding between the two until she demanded of her accuser, "Why you keep callin' me a ho for?", and he responded, "You sleep with people for money, Kaneesha!"

Instead of taking this for the blistering logic bomb of truth it apparently was, the woman named Kaneesha decided to change tactics and offered as a rejoinder: "What's that got to do with you callin' me a ho for though?"

In the pause between Kaneesha's inquiry and her male companion's eloquently hollered rejoinder, I heard the man's eyebrows return from the back of his skull as he grasped for some semblance of sanity in a world that had just failed him so thoroughly.

"It... That's the mu-fukkin' definition of a ho!"

How this discussion ended, I'll never know. Unable to fight the laughter any longer, I made a beeline for the door before my cackling aroused the quarreling couples' suspicions that someone eavesdropped on their argument over what fell under the umbrella of 'being a ho'.

The moral of this story would seem to be, "Understand the job title before you apply for the position." Thank you Kaneesha, if you're reading this, for reminding us all of that nugget of wisdom.

Thanks for reading, I love you all, and I'll see myself out.

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The rules say I gotta point the finger at two other people to keep the funnies a-flowing, so with that I nominate the esteemed @effofex and comic guru @bryan-imhoff to first read the rules, then jump on the table and regale us with an equally amusing tale of mirth and/or woe.

Remember: if you laughed, you owe me an upvote!