Homecoming Post 2: Cane the Kappa- The Untold Story

I believe in aliens. I believe that at one point, dolphins could walk and talk like humans. And, because my grandma is from the Midwest, I believe that spaghetti and fried fish is an actual meal. But I think what makes me truly delulu is the imaginary anything I have created in my mind with Cane the Kappa. 
I remember when I first saw Cane, and this was before he became a Kappa. He was walking behind St. Jo with a bunch of volleyballs or basketballs or something. I know nothing about sports. He was unassuming, just a tall, thin, very light-skinned boy taking a stroll with a bunch of balls. He was cute, and I decided, in accordance with fulfilling my personal goal of becoming besties with only hot guys, I would approach him next year, my sophomore year, when I came back to school skinny , and make him my friend. Let's just say that the Kappas got to him before this goal could be actualized. I remember his probate show. I knew it was him before he took off his little disguise. The dream died, and he became XU-famous. This is all just background for the story I'm about to tell you now, which led to me having a question for him for 23 years. 
THE STORY
One very early morning in 2004 or 5, I was thrown out of the 24-hour study room for falling asleep and snoring. I walked out the side of the library, passed the tennis courts, and around to where the old student center used to be. There was an AKA seating situation over there, and I saw Cane canoodling with Pretty Africa, that super-tall AKA who used to wear kente prints with her Greek gear. They looked so in love, and the sight made me smile all the way back to the dorm. If Cane and I were not meant to be, at least he would be with someone cool. I couldn't wait to see them during the day as a couple, but never did. It dawned on me that I had probably witnessed the fruit of a secret love affair like from the soap operas! I wanted to ask him about it, but he was ALWAYS with the Kappas, which I could have handled if it weren't for the little mean one. But not the one you are thinking of, the other one. 
THE CONVERSATION 
My conversation with Cane left me with more questions than answers. It was hot the day of the tailgate, and watching people try to stay cool was making me feel hotter. I just happened to look over my shoulder, and there was Cane, walking alone, just as I'd first seen him years earlier, only with no balls. He also looked shorter. 
"Cane!" I called.
To my surprise, he walked over to me and gave me a church hug. He was drinking out of a beer can in a paper bag, and he wore a designer fanny pack across his chest like a Girl Scout sash. 
"I have a question for you, one question, two parts," I began. "I've been wanting to ask you this question for years."
I have to admit, I was excited. I wanted the tea on what I assumed was a whirlwind romance between him and Pretty Africa. 
"Okay," he said. It was a million degrees, and he just seemed so chill. His New Orleans accent was THICK. The only way it could sound more New Orleans is if it was coming out of an alligator's mouth. 
"Did you have a secret girlfriend when we were in school?" I asked. 
"Yes, but she was a *#$5@," he said. 
*#$5@?
"It wasn't Pretty Africa?" I asked. 
He shook his head. "Naw, you have me confused with my line brother. He looks exactly like me."
"Oh yeah? He has your same skin and long hair?"
"Yep." Before you ask no, there was no Kappa while we were there that looked anything like him at all. My bs-o-meter began to go off in my left foot, although it could have been diabetic nerve pain. 
"I don't remember that for real," he said, "unless I was drunk." 
Side eye. Blame it on the alcohol.
"I have another question," I said. "Is it true that you are a literal Million-Dollar Nupe? That you won the lottery?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, but it was just a small jackpot."
And then, just like that, he was gone. This guy is a riddle wrapped in a poem dressed in Prada/Gucci. 
I assume it will be another 23 years before I talk to him again. I guess he went back to the Kappa tent after we talked, but I imagine he called Pretty Africa immediately to tell her that their jig was up and to hide their big lotto winnings. Like I said, I'm delulu. 

Homecoming Post 10 (Bonus)- The Gold and The Beautiful

Int. Bedroom of a Bayou Mansion- Night

HOLLY CLAY wakes up with a start in a beautifully decorated bedroom. She sits up, realizing that she is wearing a princess gown, think Tiana from The Princess and The Frog.

HOLLY

Where am I?

A grandfather clock strikes midnight in the corner. Holly gets up from the bed as there is a knock on the door. She races to the door and opens it to see CANE THE KAPPA on the porch. He is wearing a black and maroon suit and tails, and his hair is long, down to his waist.

HOLLY

Whoa. Did you get a relaxer?

CANE

I did. What do you think?

HOLLY

I can dig it daddy.

CANE

Good, because this Just for Me is just for you.

Cane enters the house as the chopped and screwed version of "Cupid" by 112 blares from someplace upstairs. He then begins to shimmy the 100 feet to the dining room. They have a seat at a long dining room table, think Beauty and the Beast.

HOLLY

Wow. This is gorgeous. I just...I don't know how I got here.

CANE

I guess the question is, how do any of us really get anywhere?

HOLLY

Uh...walking. Running. Skipping.

CANE

(tossing his outrageously long hair over his shoulder)

Or by floating on the wings of your love.

HOLLY

Ah Cane, that's so-

There is a loud knock on the front door.

HOLLY

Who the hell is it?!

Holly kicks off her crystal flats and slides to the door. She opens it to find CAPTAIN MORGAN.

HOLLY

Captain Morgan?! What do you want?

CAPTAIN MORGAN

Hey Holly. I just wanted to say that I am sorry.

HOLLY

Sorry for what?

CAPTAIN MORGAN

Nothing. I just heard that you like to hear men apologize for stuff.

HOLLY

True dat. But I'm in the middle of something here.

CAPTAIN MORGAN

Listen, I'm married. You don't know my wife, but just know that she's a baddie.

HOLLY

Of course.

CAPTAIN MORGAN

But I did want you to know that if I would have known your feelings for me your freshman year, I would have dropped that Miss Xavier and got with you.

HOLLY

No, you wouldn't have.

CAPTAIN MORGAN

No, I wouldn't have. But overlooking you was cold. Some may even say it was ice cold.

HOLLY

Alright. Okay. See you later bro.

Holly slams the door shut and races back to the dining room which has been transformed into a ballroom. Cane is twirling his kane to the slowed version of "Rain" by SWV. She steps on to the ballroom floor as diamonds begin to rain from the ceiling.

HOLLY

Diamonds!

CANE

Not just any diamonds. Kappa diamonds.

HOLLY

What is the difference between a real diamond and a Kappa diamond?

CANE

I don't know. What's the difference between a bad wig and a so-so sew-in?

HOLLY 

Can I touch your kane?

CANE

That depends. Are your hands clean?

HOLLY

As clean as they're gonna be.

The two race towards each other but stop midway as they hear "I'm in Love" by Ginuwine blaring from outside. Holly rushes to the window to see SPHINXIE VAN NO-STEP standing in the rain with a large boom box.

CANE

Man...you have a lot of dudes coming around here.

HOLLY

I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I will get rid of him.

Holly walks out a side door and the bayou has been transformed into a desert. She reaches out her hand. Snow is falling.

HOLLY

Sphinxie, it's freezing!

SPHINXIE

Is it? I can't tell, I have an icebox where my heart used to be!

That's all for now

Homecoming Post 9: 37 Savage and the Bad Shot Shoot (A Cane the Kappa Story)

Once upon a time at Xavier University, I had devised an "airtight" plan to streak through this sorority's portion of the Fall 2004 Neophyte Show. This was back when all the Greek lines came out at the same time. And we would all gather in our newly purchased mall fits to watch our closest friends cross. Some girls I really, really liked crossed in that line, but I had had a BAD time with their elders my freshman year. In 2003, I served on the homecoming committee under the Miss Xavier at the time who was part of said sorority. Child, the abuse me and the other committee members underwent under that itty bitty tiny woman! I will never forget the committee chairman's face when she came into the room, denied our budget request, then told us our event plans sucked. Then there was the one that I chased across campus in the rain because she wouldn't let me walk with her under her enormous sorority umbrella. WE WERE GOING TO THE SAME PLACE! And of course, there was that gorgeous one whose name I don't recall who may have truly been the prettiest girl I'd ever seen in my life! She Rosa Parked me and made me get off of the sorority bench where I was sitting, rubbing my feet after a failed attempt to walk to class in Payless heels. Anyway, the goal was to drop my robe, run naked to the middle of the gym, do the tootsie roll, then run out the side door. I say all this to say that my streaking plan may have been better put together than my plan to get the attention of Cane the Kappa.

Cane is a mystery wrapped in a theory baked in suspense and I want to know him. I have wanted to know him for some time. He is one of those people that no one knows but everyone knows because you can't help but to know him. To me, he looks out of place even when he is blending in. And when I see him, drinking and being cool with his frat brothers, he reminds me of when I used to go to Que parties as a freshman with my fast friends and try to be fast too when I was an obvious mortified virgin.

Yes, it is true that I am a touch thirsty, but this is more than that. I have entered a season where I am just out here shooting shots, even if the odds are that the ball is going to ricochet off the rim and punch me in the face. So many people have died in my life in the past six years that I just want to do everything, even seemingly senseless things that could leave me looking dumb and feeling stupid. I believe this is referred to as living. Plus, I didn't want to leave things with the 10-year reunion bad hug. Another story for another time. 

I don't like going into any situation without a plan, and my plan for this situation was simple. After getting high off of Youtube videos on eye contact and divine feminine energy, my plan was to simply stare at him. That's right. I was going to focus my ancestral gifted sexiness, grudged up from my root chakra to my eyeballs where I would then stare him down like Cyclops from X-Men until the heat from my sensuous gaze burned into the side of his face. His eyes would then meet mine, and I would visually charm him, like cats charm birds out of trees. Then he would have no choice but to rest his head on my breasts and tell me all his secrets and fears. Those witchy ladies who wear waist beads on Youtube said it was a sure thing! 

It's not. 

It was just my luck that the Kappa tent was right next to the tent for the Class of 2007. I had never seen that many Kappas in one place ever, talking about whatever it is that Kappas talk about when they aren't twirling those cute little sticks. I was two hours into the tailgate before Cane emerged from the Kappa tent with the swag of a toddler that had just awoken from a nap. He stepped to the side of the tent, speaking to two girls who looked like twins that had really nice butts and a lot of hair.

Okay, I thought as I took a deep breath and than began to do my queen stare for what felt like an hour. It could not have been longer than a minute. It actually takes a lot to stare at a person for a long time. This I was not banking on. 

Okay, okay. I shook my head and started over again, this time getting the attention of one of the hair twins. She turned and waved to me and I waved back. Maybe I should have asked for her number because the queen stare was not working on Cane. I was beginning to get a headache. 

Before I could go prepare for round three of this poorly executed eye play, a Kappa came out of the tent wearing fire engine red leather pants (I can't make this up) and walked Cane back into the tent. 

No play from Cane in college. The bad hug. Immunity to my eye powers. I think we have to call this a wrap...until 2025 for the Xavier University 100th year anniversay. What can I say?I have never been good at taking a hint.