Living Short in Bel Air (Completed 2013)

Chapter 26: Rush (Half) Hour

Chapter 26: Rush (Half) Hour

I had a dream. 

Where people could walk down streets wearing whatever they pleased without getting judged.

I had a dream.

Where girls wouldn’t get teased for the kind of style their hair was in.

I had a dream.

Where I had an endless supply of bacon.

It was the best dream. 

That wasn’t my Bel Air speech by the way.  The real speech was actually folded neatly, tucked in my clutch purse on my desk.  It was more of a Ly-a’s Speech Version 333.5 actually.

Then the daily voice sang. 

Now this is the story all about how, my life got flipped, turned upside down.  And I'd like to take a minute just sit right there, I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air. 

I groaned, slapping both pillows against my ears.

In west Philadelphia born and raised.  On the playground where I spent most of my days.  Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool.  And all shooting some b-ball outside of the school.

My body twisted, the green sheets wrapped me up like a cocoon.  I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping I wasn’t hearing correctly. 

When a couple of guys, they were up to no good.  Started making trouble in my neighbourhood.
I got in one little fight and my mom got scared.  And said, “You're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel Air.”

 Ever since Will Smeeth moved in the backyard beach house, where we kept the pool equipment, I had the sudden urge to download the theme song to Fresh Prince and even made it my alarm clock.

 I whistled for a cab and when it came near, the license plate said ‘fresh’ and had a dice in the mirror.  If anything I could say that this cab was rare.  But I thought nah, forget it, yo homes to Bel-air!

I woke up feeling energized all the time.

I pulled up to a house about seven or eight.  And I yelled to the cabby, "Yo, homes smell you later!"

Until I heard it for the hundredth time.

 Looked at my kingdom I was finally there.

I would have changed the song, but my alarm clock was jammed, it now impossible to change the song.  I officially hated the guy who created alarm clocks.  Whoever wanted to give people a heart attack whenever they were supposed to wake up was classified as insane.

To sit on my throne as the prince of Bel Air.

Wait.  Alarm clock?

My eyes burst open.  My head whirled around.  Seven o’clock at night.  My gaze darted to the sticky note beside it.  Bel Air Ball starts at 7:30pm.

“Sweet mother fuggas!” I rolled off the bed, and hastily untangled myself.  Slamming the snooze button, I stumbled to my bathroom and hopped in the shower.  Ruby would have been proud how much water I saved, rushing a two minute shower. 

I yanked my dress off the hanger and juggled both the blow dryer and the tight fabric, shimming it past my waist.  Until only the tips ends were damp, I dropped the magic drying device and zipped up the back of the dress. 

I hit Driz’s number on speed dial while I coiled my reddish hair into a bun, letting the front curls slip and naturally settle to frame my face.  Thank goodness the cosmic forces were giving pity on my bad hair.