If Koolaid Man was anything like Culburn says he is, athletic, wealthy, something of a lady-killer, I was in for a treat. Although Culburn has never met Koolaid Man face-to-face, I’m sure there is some truth to this man’s vaunted reputation.
I was excited.
We walked through the automatic doors of the Circus-Circus casino. One feeling I’ll never grow tired of is the one you get when you enter a Las Vegas casino after having been outside in its dry heat. The blast of air-conditioning hits you and you feel the heat slide off your body. It’s very much like taking a shower after exercise or a long day of gardening, with a similar cleansing effect, going from one extreme to another, intense heat to cold, dirty to clean, and today, I hope Koolaid Man would be Culburn’s opposing extreme, old to fresh, repe ive to original, limp to firm, Culburn to Koolaid Man.
After a few minutes of maneuvering through the crowds of gamblers and their children, we found ourselves at the buffet. Culburn scanned the room for a brief moment before his head stopped, focusing in on a table about a hundred feet from where we stood. Culburn pointed, saying, “That’s him.” We headed toward Koolaid Man’s table.
As we got closer, the feeling of excitement started to wane as Koolaid Man came into view. Now he was before my eyes, five feet away, and that once great feeling of excitement completely sank into a disappointment.
He was a black man, but a far cry from the black men who have occupied my imagination for the last four decades. He was bony, sunken chested, and his skin was more yellow than black. I’ve heard the name for these types of blacks is “high-yellow,” but Koolaid Man’s tone was nothing like the golden skin of some of the healthy, high-yellow blacks I’ve seen. His color was sickly, jaundiced, and faded, like his once normal black skin had been scrubbed with bleach. On this body sat his small head. His hair was a short and spongy afro that would no doubt erupt with dust if you were to give it a pat. His face was interesting in that it seemed to be composed entirely of cheekbones and forehead. His cheekbones were high and sharp and jutted out at odd, incongruent angles, giving his face an asymmetry Picasso would have found appealing. His forehead was simply one large protuberance that extended about a quarter inch beyond his brow line, and would definitely be effective in keeping the rain or sun out of his eyes.
Every few seconds, Koolaid Man would scratch at himself, which I doubt wasn’t all that hygienic, considering his fingernails were caked with grime. He looked like a man constantly on edge, a man in need of something that he constantly loses and finds every day.
We sat down and I was instantly overwhelmed by a putrid odor. A rotten egg smell that assaulted my senses to point where my body responded with nausea. Before Culburn could get the introductions started, I said, “What the is that smell?” I looked beneath the table, expecting to find a half eaten meal or something worse, like a dead rat. There was nothing there. Clean.
I looked at Culburn, “You smell that?”
Culburn shook his head. Koolaid Man stood there, shoulders somewhat slumped, mouth tight, eyes looking away. Now it was clear. He was the source of the smell. I didn’t have the heart to press on and bring the entire restaurant’s attention to our table and embarrass Koolaid. The world had already done a number on him. Here was a man who looked like he was assembled from off the shelf parts nature never figured on using for a human being, but one day decided, perhaps as a cruel joke, to go ahead and do so.
I said, “Nevermind. It’s gone now.”
Koolaid Man sighed in relief and sat down, as did Culburn and I.
Culburn, beaming, finally introduced us. “Katie-girl, this is Koolaid Man. The goods.”
We shook hands. As you probably already know from my earlier description of his anatomy, his hand wasn’t the most pleasant thing to touch. Sandpaper rough, but at the same time, slimy with sweat.
I said, “Yes. I’ve heard a lot about you. Culburn regards you as something of a hero.”
Koolaid Man smiled. His lips were cracked and were crusty with what I think were dried flakes of lipstick. He was about to speak until Culburn cut him off.
“Yep. A dyed in the wool hero. There we were, just rang sixteen, Luva and I tip-toeing through the tulips there on Spurstalk, assholes tight, playing nice, just happy to escape Boston. Then here comes Kool, charging in like Audie Murphy across Kraut enemy lines, tellin’ them Spur and Mav fellas where to stick it, tying each and every one of their hides to the Tree of Woe. He delivered us that day, delivered us from our own cowardice and galvanized us into a true nation, a Laker nation, undividable. I sided him that day, and will never forsake him, ever.”
I rolled my eyes, which thankfully neither Koolaid Man nor Culburn noticed, since they were caught up in each other’s gaze, mutually reminiscing about an important moment on a message board I couldn’t give a about. Koolaid Man opened his mouth and smiled, revealing a set of rotted teeth that were bent every which way but straight. He spoke.
“Damn, Cully. I don’t know what to say. I just rep Kobe and Laker Nation strong and whatever go down, go down. I just do my thang and let nature take its course. But you the man, Cully, and I’m just trying to be where you at.”
Along with those words, which were spoken with a shrill voice and a Negro twang that’s similar to an angry black woman at the DMV or Department of Social Services, came an odor that was ten times fouler than Koolaid Man’s bodily smell. It’s as if his breath was borne out of a diet that consisted of dead animals and feces. It came fast, hot, and without mercy. My eyes welled up and I felt a roiling in my stomach that would turn into regurgitation if I didn’t leave immediately. Last thing I needed was a restaurant full of people watching me vomit on Koolaid Man, which would probably improve his odor, but still, I didn’t need an experience like that.
Trying to hold back the bile from reaching my throat, I said, “I gotta go. I feel sick. I’m sorry. Nice to meet you.”
Before Culburn or Koolaid Man could say anything, I was in the bathroom, dry heaving into a basin. I took a few deep breaths, splashed my face with water, and closed my eyes, gathering myself. After a moment, the nausea subsided.
I exited the bathroom, but had no intent to return. I looked over to our table and saw Culburn standing up. Thank goodness.
Culburn and Koolaid Man exchanged a hug and a smile. They parted and Koolaid Man walked off, which was less of a walk and more of a smug strut. When I saw he was wearing green bicycle shorts and pink high heels, I wasn’t the least bit surprised.
Culburn returned to me. “You feeling okay?”
“Yeah. Just an upset stomach.”
He said, “So what did ya think of Koolaid Man? The goods, eh?”
I nodded, smiling. But the only thing that came in my mind when Culburn asked what I thought of Kool was another was of his favorite phrases:
I smell skunk.
Last edited by midnightpulp; 07-22-2011 at 11:12 PM.
loololol posting this in the nba forum this time. you're definitely dancing for the right audience now, but still so so very sad. lol trying so hard to be funny and failing
sup, thisoverbite.loololol posting this in the nba forum this time. you're definitely dancing for the right audience now, but still so so very sad. lol trying so hard to be funny and failing
nuttin shortstuff
...just tell the truth you jerk off to a s name...don't you
ima have to go with lakaluva on this one. Unfortunately.
giusseppe and koolaid man have won.
can't believ you ers let lakerfan dominate this forum
Thispego is horribly unfunny. I mean I know DoK is a fan of his for God knows what reason, but is there any evidence of him ever being funnny?
Five stars to the OP btw
You have how many different user names here?ima have to go with lakaluva on this one. Unfortunately.
giusseppe and koolaid man have won.
can't believ you ers let lakerfan dominate this forum
So there's like 8 people who actually post here but like 60 user names.
close to 10,000 posts worth of evidence tbh
Speaking of ode... you ode 500 to someone don't you?
, shut up and go get my money.
thispego is butthurt in every thread. terribly unfunny member and i expect an apology thread ASAP.
Start a thread on goat cheese and see what happens.
The lol thread did pretty well.
You're done around here. Mono put two in the knees with the Naruto find and I came along and put one in your dome, exposing you for the broke got you are.
Lol at complaining about getting welched on for 5.00 then turning around and welching for a measly 400.00. Definitely the behavior of a collecting welfare.
And trust me, knowing you'd welch was part of the plan all along. I knew if you didn't pay, your cred would be shot and you'd become nothing more than a novelty (more than you already were), much like your boyfriend Koolaid Man.
RIP, got. You done.
shouldn't you be planning your next Koolaid book...
I'm sure you've put much thought into that, considering how obvious it is that you have no legitimate source of income other than what the United States government sends you every month.I'm the topic, homie. That's the only reason it did so well. Just talk about me, and you become popular around here. Go to the advanced search page and type "laka," and watch how many names pop up. I'm the inspiration of so many assholes... you may be one of them.
, you're just a supporting, minor character in this tale, same way you're small time on Spurstalk. If your chimp brain had any faculty for reading comprehension, you'd see this is about Katie-girl.shouldn't you be planning your next Koolaid book...
tell a what kinda squab game you got....cuz you ain't gettin Ho...you gonna have to come take it...and we all know you ain't bout knucking up....you got pimped ho...a straight up took your ...now what's up pissy?
He didn't take . No money was taken from me, but I took his cred, just like that.tell a what kinda squab game you got....cuz you ain't gettin Ho...you gonna have to come take it...and we all know you ain't bout knucking up....you got pimped ho...a straight up took your ...now what's up pissy?
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