Rashan vs. Dem Gangsta Cats

Timeline: 2:17 AM - Atlanta, Georgia - Rashan's apartment

I was falling asleep watching Gone Baby Gone, when the phone rang interrupting me from my rest. What does she want now? Doesn't she realize that I'm not gonna answer the phone? Damn work stalkers! Irritation now replacing sleepiness, I got up and started cleaning the place up. Somebody told me that they don't like messy guys, and I guess that resonated. I picked my clothes up off the couch, wiped down the kitchen and gathered the trash from bathroom, bedroom and kitchen. I figured I should take this out now since sleep is out of the question.

I popped the trunk and placed the 2 Hefty bags in, started my car and drove around the corner to the trash dumpster. It was now 2:40 and I didn't figure anyone would be out at this hour. But I was wrong. Standing in front of the dumpster were them gangsta cats, 7 deep. The ringleader looked dead in my eye and didn't move, even as my car approached more closely. His boys stood behind him looking like they were ready to pounce. All I wanted to do was take my trash out.

I've been in situations like this before, so I wasn't scared. All it took was for me to flash one of my intimidating looks and walk tall and they would scatter. Them cats weren't about to run me off my mission. But tonight was different. These cats were bout it. I flashed my lights at them but they still didn't move. When I popped my trunk, they didn't even flinch. As I stepped out my car, they were still looking hard at me, like I was invading their territory. I peeped one of them cats gnawing on a chicken bone, like that hot wing plate was the only food he had in a week. I gathered my bags out of the trunk and walked towards the dumpster. The ringleader stepped up to me.

"Watch out, yo!" I exclaimed in a menacing voice to no avail. They weren't about to let me pass to throw my bags in the trash. One of them walked over to the driver's side of my car, which I had left slightly ajar. I have a fear of locking my keys in my car, so I didn't want to close it all the way. He eyed my vehicle like he was about to make it his, while the other cats encircled me. "Oh shit," I thought. It's about to go down at the dumpster. I gotta get out of this situation. If they pounced, I really had no defense except to hit them with the two trash bags I clutched in either hand.

They got closer, and my instinct took over. Fight or flight? Fight or flight? Could I take on all 7 of these cats without taking an L? It was doubtful, so in the interest of self preservation I swung the bags over my shoulder and made a beeline back to my car, nearly tripping over the one that was eyeing the driver's side door. I slammed the door and sped off, coming about *thisclose* to running one of them cats over. I heard screaming behind me as I looked out my rearview mirror.

"Meeeeooooowww"

I hate them damn gangsta cats. Aren't they supposed to be afraid of humans?