How Would you React if Aziz Ansari Raked YOUR Leaves?

pexels-photo-213613.jpegI was in my bathroom this morning getting ready for work, when I heard a weird noise coming from outside. Probably a raccoon or a porcupine poking around, I thought. Nope! It was Aziz Ansari and it looked like he was raking leaves. I mean, he had a rake, and he was making a sweeping motion with it….so… tell me.

I crack the window and shout, “Aziz!  Hey man, what’cha doin’?”

He stops raking, whips around, and glares at me as if I were disturbing him from his day’s work. The thing is, he KEPT staring at me. You know how, after a minute, once you give someone the silent “message” you look away?  He did not do that.

“You don’t have to rake my leaves Aziz. You won a Golden Globe or something, didn’t you?”

I honestly didn’t think Aziz was this much of a hot-head but he threw my rake clear across the lawn, narrowly missing the birdfeeder, and stormed right up to the bathroom window.

“I wasn’t raking the lawn,” he says. “I was making an interpretive statement about the looseness of society, the fickleness of everything we believe to be stable in our lives! Do you even understand?”

I did not understand.

He was so close to the bathroom window that his nose was pressed against the screen. Surprisingly, his nose is much bigger than it looks on TV.

“Can I see your Golden Globe?”  I ask.

“Oh shit yeah!” he shouts and joyfully  makes a beeline for my car.

“Aziz?” I shouted through the window.  “That’s my car!”

“Yeah,” he says.  “I know. I’d never drive a teal blue 2010 Matrix!”

At this point, I pull on my work clothes and join Aziz outside. “I need to get to work man,” I tell him. “You can’t hang around here.”

“Hey, don’t you want to see the globe?” I watch him route around my car, frantically.  He tosses an empty chip bag and some old wrapping paper with footprints on it out the window. “You really should clean your car,” he tells me.

“I’m late for work,” I say, impatiently. “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

He’s STILL searching through my car. “I’m sure I left it here,” he mumbles.

“This is Nova Scotia, dude. Why are you even here? Isn’t someone going to miss you in LA?

Aziz drops his head and shakes  it as if I’m the biggest moron to land on planet Earth. “You don’t understaaaaaaand! Nobody cares where I am!  Don’t you get it?”

I didn’t.

“Get in the car!” I order.  He does.

“Where are you taking me?” he asks. He sounds terrified and I tell him to quit over-acting.

“I’m dropping you off in town,” I tell him. “I need to get to work.”

At this point, my mind is scrambling.  Where am I going to bring Aziz? Then it comes to me. The radio station!

“What’s this place?” he asks.

“CJLS Radio. They’ll love you. Not much news in this small town. I’m sure they’d love to hear all about your Golden Globe!”

“REALLY?” he asks.  I roll my eyes. No, Aziz, not really. But I don’t say that. Again…I’m late for work.

“Have fun,” I say before leaving him alone on the sidewalk. He’ll be alright on his own. Probably.


the end


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