James Don't Drive
J. M. Smig Lyrics

It had been a bad day in court for James

He had spent the day defending his client, a
Russian resident alien who was in the country on a student
Visa, but got popped for selling his ass and an
8-ball of coke to an undercover cop in a
Providence bath house
The case against his client appeared to be
Hermetically sealed and made of solid steel

The bath house had a security video with an image so clear that the
Jury could see the points of the Russian hammers
And Sickles tattooed on each of his client's butt cheeks

James attempted to get the charge dismissed on grounds of
Entrapment, arguing that the cop came
1st, but in the amount of time that it would take a
1-legged man to put on a pair of pants, the Jury came back with a
Guilty verdict

James drove to his regular watering hole and was now drinking
Frozen Mudslides lIke McDonald's shakes

Frank the bartender, a tall
Sicilian with frog lips that could suck the husk off a
Coconut, poured another one as
James sat back in his chair and attempted to balance his
Miniature Spoon Keychain on the arc of his distended stomach

James' client, who had also been his
Primary dealer, hadn't yet paid him anything beyond his
Retainer before being whisked away to a
Detention facility to await deportation

It looked like the rent was going to be late again

James heard the door open and his nose was assaulted by
Patchouli and mothballs

His neck creaked as he rotated his head
It was the dancing fool

The dancing fool was a middle-aged art school dropout and a
Registered Sex Offender of an undisclosed nature

He had a hairline like Saint Francis that he attempted to hide
By growing his hair to his feet and tying it back like a Samurai

He never bought a drink but would gravitate to the open floor
In the middle of the bar and just dance and dance
And dance, twirling and jerking like a ballerina on blotter acid until
Frank would get fed up and give him a choice between
Hitting the bar or hitting the road

The only reason that he was allowed in the bar at all was because
He usually had a delivery for one of the regulars

The dancing fool made a living as a runner for
Little Vinnie and a couple of the other local hoods

He also made extra money selling drawings of
Boy Scouts to a retired Army sergeant who worked as a counselor at the
YMCA day camp and always insisted that the boys be drawn with
Japanese eyes

The dancing fool grooved to the jukebox as he shuffled toward
James like Michael Jackson moonwalking in reverse

This time, he had a delivery for James
The two of them went into the mens room and crammed into a stall

While an unemployed actor serviced a
Marine in the adjacent stall, James dipped his
Pinky into the small bag of powder and put it to his tongue

There was so much
Baking Powder cut into it that he could use it to make pancakes

He pulled out his cell phone and called Little Vinnie
He had paid up front and wanted his money back
Little Vinnie wasn't picking up
No matter

He had done enough pro bono work for
Vinnie's family in the past to know where to find him

He knew that this was the night that
Vinnie was running illegal duck fights in the back of his body shop

As James drove to the body shop, he called Scott, his backup dealer
"Sorry, dude. No dice"

Scott proceeded to explain that
Vinnie was giving hot food stamps to all the
Mexican kids in the neighborhood in exchange for shoplifting all the
Baking Powder in town

The law of supply and demand was forcing the other dealers to sell it
Pure at cut price, depleting inventories faster than normal

"Can i interest you in some nice homegrown Purple Urkel instead?"

From the unlocked rear entrance to the body shop, James could hear
Quacks and cheering

A crowd of old men and gangbangers stood in a circle goading
2 malnourished ducks with razor blades taped to their bills

James saw Vinnie in the corner and put a gun to his head
Vinnie laughed and called his bluff

Before Little Vinnie could call his goons, James pushed his way
Through the crowd and scooped up one of the ducks

He made a mad dash for the door
Vinnie's goons following him in hot pursuit
But he held them back by swinging the duck like a machete

James escaped, peeling out of the parking lot
Like a snake out of old skin

He knew what he would do
He would hide the duck and hold it for ransom
But he needed a place to hide the duck
He knew the perfect place
He couldn't think of a better place than his mother's house
His mother worked for the Archdiocese
Little Vinnie wouldn't dare cross the church

James drove to the house and used the spare key hidden under the porch
Madonna to let himself in

His mother was in the kitchen making dinner

James flopped down on one of the chairs at the
Kitchen table, dripping blood and sweat

As his mother turned around in surprise, he noticed that there were
2 plates set

He didn't think that she was expecting him

"This isn't for you
I have a new boyfriend and he's coming for dinner
He's gonna be here any minute"

Just then, the doorbell rang
"That must be him"

As his mother went to answer the door, James' nerves began to unravel
Like the waxed line of a broken fishing rod
As he stared at the dead duck
Hanging limp by its neck from his closed fist

On the way in, he had managed to rip the blade off of the duck's bill
But barely realized that he had snapped its neck in the process

His leverage was gone

The sweat froze in place on his face as he heard a
"Click" and felt a gun press against the back of his head

"You killed my duck"

He turned to see
Little Vinnie scowling at him as he aimed the gun at his face

His mother casually walked back into the kitchen and drained the
Pasta that had been boiling on the stove

"Vinnie, why is he still alive?
Didn't you cut it with rat poison like I asked?
James, you ain't gonna drive me crazy no more!"

Now James don't drive
'Cuz James can't drive
James can't drive
'Cuz James ain't alive

So be careful who you cross
'N don't be dumb
'Cuz you never know who might be
Bangin' your mom





Motherfucker!