Last night, we took my sister Blara out for her birthday. Afterwards, we all went for a ride in her best friend Superbad’s car, which is some sort of gangster white BMW convertible with burgundy leather interiors. Blara and Superbad had been cruising around in it all evening.
“Is this really your car, Superbad?” I asked him.
“No, it’s my dad’s,” he admitted.
Caleb and I rode our bikes to the restaurant in Nolita, so they couldn’t drive us home. Rather, they took us for a spin down the Bowery, to Canal street, where we dropped off Shark in the middle of the San Gennaro festival. There, he stormed through empty stalls to find his apartment, entrenched in a pit of stinking garbage.
Then, we headed back up Centre street towards the restaurant. It was a very short ride, but somehow we managed to listen to “Mercy,” then “Pursuit of Happiness,” and then the “Happy Birthday Song.” Blara only listens to things for a maximum of 25 seconds before she changes the station. “Forward to the part where Kanye West is rapping,” she kept on screaming.
At some point, Superbad gained control of the music. He put on “Under The Sea,” the song Sebastian the Crab sings on “The Little Mermaid.”
Blara, Superbad, and I threw our heads back, and started singing along at the top of our lungs.
Right as we reached the chorus, Caleb started tapping my shoulder, indicating that I should look at something outside of the car. But I ignored him.
“Did you guys see the rapper?” he said, when the music ended.
“What rapper?” I asked.
“The guy who was walking down the street with an entourage, pointing and laughing at us, and taking pictures?”
“Are you just being racist, or was it an actual rapper?”
“He was seriously famous!” Caleb squealed. “He had all of these paparazzi following him!”
“What did he look like?” I asked.
“He had long dreads and he was wearing a red baseball cap.”
I thought about it for a second. “Wait, was it Lil Wayne?”
“I don’t know, what does Lil Wayne look like?”
I quickly googled him on my phone, and showed Caleb a picture.
“That’s him! He was wearing that exact hat!” he squealed.
In other words, the fish in the bowl looked out. And he looked at us.
“Awww shit,” I said. “I wonder if Lil Wayne is Tweeting about the stupid fucking white kids he saw singing in a sick BMW right now.”
I checked, but he hasn’t been active in days.