How I Met Mont by Emile Mosseri Lyrics
All right, here we go. When I was about five, my dad and I lived in Hunters Point. Though I went to school in the city, my dad worked for the DMV in Oakland, drivin' disabled people to their doctors' appointments. My dad's job started very, very early, so he would always drop me off to school before goin' to work, about 6:30. School didn't start till 7:30, so I would just be there, alone. But I didn't mind it, 'cause they opened the cafeteria at 7 for free breakfast, which I needed 'cause there wasn't much in my fridge.
There used to be this, this stray dog that lived outside the school, or maybe somewhere under it, I don't know. However, this dog would always come up when I sat on the steps and growl at me and chase me. I usually never got bitten because I'd run as fast as I could to the monkey bars and hang there where he couldn't reach.
Montgomery was always the second kid after me to show up. He'd show up right before they opened the cafeteria, but he wouldn't eat the breakfast, he'd just sit and draw.
Anyways, one day, the dog was chasin' me, finally caught me 'cause I tripped on a stick, and he started to bite me near my leg and my ankle, ripped all my clothes up, ripped my shirt. I only had a small wound on my leg, but my clothes were pretty much, like, done for, like destroyed. This was a problem because these were the only clothes I had at the time, 'cause me and my dad were in between spots.
Anyways, fast forward to everyone showin' up for school, lookin' at my fucked-up shirt and pants, pointing and laughing. A few kids even passed me notes saying I looked like a bum. I never liked that word much. During recess, Jordan, my archnemesis, approached me with his little gang, I liked to call them his minions. They'd laugh at all his bad jokes, take orders from him like he was their fuckin' ruler or somethin'. Jordan comes screamin' all sorts of shit at me. "Y'all only got one outfit! Yo daddy never bought you no clothes? You look like you got attacked by a bear." Which was kinda true, because bears are really just big, scary dogs if you think about it, so technically I got attacked by a mini-bear. So I responded with some comebacks, but to no avail, 'cause I was outnumbered by Jordan's minions, who would only shut up for Jordan's jokes and just laugh over mine whenever I tried to rose back.
So I'm boilin' hot at this point, I never wanted to distract someone so bad. And just when I'm about to, one of Jordan's minions says, "Yo, look at that nigga Mont!" We all divert our attention to the left side of the playground to see Mont dancin'. This dancin' Mont's doin', it's to no music, maybe he had a song in his head, he probably did. But this is one of the most abnormal and original dances I've ever seen. It looked so modern yet not rehearsed, but also had a tribal element to it. So all the kids run over to Mont and they're laughin' hysterically, makin' fun of Mont. Jordan of course leadin' the pack, then decides to push Mont to the ground. Everyone begins to yell "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Mont gets up, totally unbothered, wipes himself off, resumes dancin'. Jordan pushes him again harder, this time Mont stays down. Jordan walks up to Mont, standin' over him, his fists balled up, lookin' like he's about to hit him. That's when I decided to tackle Jordan to the ground.
I tackled Jordan to the ground, begin rollin' around, punchin', kickin', bitin', scratchin', whatever. It's about a 45-second ordeal before the principal come, grab us by both of our shirts, drag us to his office. In the office, the principal's yellin' at us, Jordan's cryin' 'cause he don't want the principal to call his mommy, blamin' all this shit on me as if I started it. While the principal and Jordan are arguin', my attention is focused on the schoolyard, 'cause from the window I could see Mont with his little notebook, jottin' down vigorously, which led me to believe he may have been writing, not drawing.
"Jimmie," principal snaps at me. "Did you hear what I said?" I say no. "I'm gonna be sending you both home early today, and I need your parents' phone numbers so they can come pick you up." So I give my dad's phone number, principal calls my dad. My dad's infuriated he has to leave work early and come get me.
My dad arrives around lunchtime, glarin' at me in disappointment. He said, "Get yo ass over here!" We headed to the car, I go for the passenger door, 'cause that's where I used to sit, but he quickly told me to go sit in the back. So I open the back door, and my Spider-Man pillow falls out the back seat. So I pick it up quickly, look around, see if anyone else saw. I look left, start makin' my way right when I lock eyes with Mont, who's watchin' me from the gate. I look down at the pillow, then back at the back seat, which had a sheet and a cover 'cause that's where I slept. And then back at him. "Jimbo, get yo ass in the car!" So I get in the car. Dad drives off yellin' at me, me and Mont hold our gaze until I'm too far to see him any longer.
Next day at school, Dad drops me off early as usual, tells me, "I better not have to pick yo little ass up again!" Drives off. I walk with my head down, take a seat on the steps. Dog isn't here today, which is nice, 'cause I wasn't in the fuckin' mood. Still wearin' the same clothes that the little fucker had torn up. And I try to make it better with staples and tape that I stole from the classroom, but I end up makin' that shit worse. Outta my peripheral, I see a small boy with glasses approachin' me, somethin' in his hands, couldn't quite tell what it was at first. As he got closer, I see that it's Mont, earlier than usual. He got a plastic bag in his hand. He comes, he sets the bag down next to me and he sits down. I'm curious, so I ask him, "What's this?" Mont gestures toward the bag with his head, smiles that little half-smirk he still does to this day. I take the bag, reach inside, pull out a Quicksilver shirt and some South Pole cargo pants. I'm surprised but mostly flattered, so I say, "Thank you," even though I didn't really fuck with South Pole like that. He nods, still with the half-smirk on his face.
Seconds go by. Mont says, "I like your Spider-Man pillow." I say, "Thank you," nervously, with the knowledge that Mont most likely knows I live in that car. He notices me gettin' uncomfortable, then asks me awkwardly, pushes his glasses up, "Wanna have a sleepover and play video games at my house?" I reply, "You got Crash Bandicoot?" Mont gets excited: "Yes." I say, "You got any food?" Look of confusion, he replies, "Yes." I say, "All right, let's do it." Mont says, "I'm Montgomery. My grandpa calls me Monty or Mont." And I say, "I'm Jimmie," and that's how I met Mont.
There used to be this, this stray dog that lived outside the school, or maybe somewhere under it, I don't know. However, this dog would always come up when I sat on the steps and growl at me and chase me. I usually never got bitten because I'd run as fast as I could to the monkey bars and hang there where he couldn't reach.
Montgomery was always the second kid after me to show up. He'd show up right before they opened the cafeteria, but he wouldn't eat the breakfast, he'd just sit and draw.
Anyways, one day, the dog was chasin' me, finally caught me 'cause I tripped on a stick, and he started to bite me near my leg and my ankle, ripped all my clothes up, ripped my shirt. I only had a small wound on my leg, but my clothes were pretty much, like, done for, like destroyed. This was a problem because these were the only clothes I had at the time, 'cause me and my dad were in between spots.
Anyways, fast forward to everyone showin' up for school, lookin' at my fucked-up shirt and pants, pointing and laughing. A few kids even passed me notes saying I looked like a bum. I never liked that word much. During recess, Jordan, my archnemesis, approached me with his little gang, I liked to call them his minions. They'd laugh at all his bad jokes, take orders from him like he was their fuckin' ruler or somethin'. Jordan comes screamin' all sorts of shit at me. "Y'all only got one outfit! Yo daddy never bought you no clothes? You look like you got attacked by a bear." Which was kinda true, because bears are really just big, scary dogs if you think about it, so technically I got attacked by a mini-bear. So I responded with some comebacks, but to no avail, 'cause I was outnumbered by Jordan's minions, who would only shut up for Jordan's jokes and just laugh over mine whenever I tried to rose back.
So I'm boilin' hot at this point, I never wanted to distract someone so bad. And just when I'm about to, one of Jordan's minions says, "Yo, look at that nigga Mont!" We all divert our attention to the left side of the playground to see Mont dancin'. This dancin' Mont's doin', it's to no music, maybe he had a song in his head, he probably did. But this is one of the most abnormal and original dances I've ever seen. It looked so modern yet not rehearsed, but also had a tribal element to it. So all the kids run over to Mont and they're laughin' hysterically, makin' fun of Mont. Jordan of course leadin' the pack, then decides to push Mont to the ground. Everyone begins to yell "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Mont gets up, totally unbothered, wipes himself off, resumes dancin'. Jordan pushes him again harder, this time Mont stays down. Jordan walks up to Mont, standin' over him, his fists balled up, lookin' like he's about to hit him. That's when I decided to tackle Jordan to the ground.
I tackled Jordan to the ground, begin rollin' around, punchin', kickin', bitin', scratchin', whatever. It's about a 45-second ordeal before the principal come, grab us by both of our shirts, drag us to his office. In the office, the principal's yellin' at us, Jordan's cryin' 'cause he don't want the principal to call his mommy, blamin' all this shit on me as if I started it. While the principal and Jordan are arguin', my attention is focused on the schoolyard, 'cause from the window I could see Mont with his little notebook, jottin' down vigorously, which led me to believe he may have been writing, not drawing.
"Jimmie," principal snaps at me. "Did you hear what I said?" I say no. "I'm gonna be sending you both home early today, and I need your parents' phone numbers so they can come pick you up." So I give my dad's phone number, principal calls my dad. My dad's infuriated he has to leave work early and come get me.
My dad arrives around lunchtime, glarin' at me in disappointment. He said, "Get yo ass over here!" We headed to the car, I go for the passenger door, 'cause that's where I used to sit, but he quickly told me to go sit in the back. So I open the back door, and my Spider-Man pillow falls out the back seat. So I pick it up quickly, look around, see if anyone else saw. I look left, start makin' my way right when I lock eyes with Mont, who's watchin' me from the gate. I look down at the pillow, then back at the back seat, which had a sheet and a cover 'cause that's where I slept. And then back at him. "Jimbo, get yo ass in the car!" So I get in the car. Dad drives off yellin' at me, me and Mont hold our gaze until I'm too far to see him any longer.
Next day at school, Dad drops me off early as usual, tells me, "I better not have to pick yo little ass up again!" Drives off. I walk with my head down, take a seat on the steps. Dog isn't here today, which is nice, 'cause I wasn't in the fuckin' mood. Still wearin' the same clothes that the little fucker had torn up. And I try to make it better with staples and tape that I stole from the classroom, but I end up makin' that shit worse. Outta my peripheral, I see a small boy with glasses approachin' me, somethin' in his hands, couldn't quite tell what it was at first. As he got closer, I see that it's Mont, earlier than usual. He got a plastic bag in his hand. He comes, he sets the bag down next to me and he sits down. I'm curious, so I ask him, "What's this?" Mont gestures toward the bag with his head, smiles that little half-smirk he still does to this day. I take the bag, reach inside, pull out a Quicksilver shirt and some South Pole cargo pants. I'm surprised but mostly flattered, so I say, "Thank you," even though I didn't really fuck with South Pole like that. He nods, still with the half-smirk on his face.
Seconds go by. Mont says, "I like your Spider-Man pillow." I say, "Thank you," nervously, with the knowledge that Mont most likely knows I live in that car. He notices me gettin' uncomfortable, then asks me awkwardly, pushes his glasses up, "Wanna have a sleepover and play video games at my house?" I reply, "You got Crash Bandicoot?" Mont gets excited: "Yes." I say, "You got any food?" Look of confusion, he replies, "Yes." I say, "All right, let's do it." Mont says, "I'm Montgomery. My grandpa calls me Monty or Mont." And I say, "I'm Jimmie," and that's how I met Mont.