I was standing behind the counter at the pawn shop today, thinking about assault rifles when I caught sight of a tall, lanky black man standing in the parking lot of the abandoned garage across the street from us. He was wearing a pith helmet and a a safari jacket, pushing an ancient ten-speed. Naturally, I assumed it was Brother Oh-tiss.
"Hey! Cheryl! Idn't that Brother Oh-tiss across the street?"
"Who?"
"Brother Oh-tiss."
"Oh. Naw. That can't be Oh-tiss, look at the way he's walking. He's not movin' near fast enough."
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