(BestfriendTV Comics – Book 1)
CHAPTER ONE: ANOTHER DAY OF BULLSHIT
(AKA: Paradise? Baby… where?)
You ever wake up and the devil already clocked in before you?
Like your eyes ain’t even open good but your spirit already irritated?
Yeah.
That’s me.
Every. Damn. Day.
My alarm went off at 5:30 AM — FIVE THIRTY, like I signed up for the Marines.
I slapped that phone so hard Siri probably filed an abuse report.
Then before my eyelids could even finish loading…
“KAREN! KAAAARENNNN!”
Lord… here go this lady.
“WHAT MAMA?!”
Voice dry, throat crusty, attitude fully activated.
“You got any money? I need to get my hair done today!”
I looked at the clock.
5:32 AM.
Ain’t a salon open for another four hours.
This woman waking up plotting financial terrorism on me before the sun even clocked in.
That’s crazy work ethic.
“Ma… I JUST gave you money.”
“And? That was THREE DAYS ago, Karen. Money don’t last forever.”
Baby… it do when you don’t blow it on scratch-offs and them lil wine bottles from the Citgo.
But go off.
My body felt like I got jumped by three raccoons and an unpaid bill.
I rolled outta bed like somebody auntie with bad knees and stumbled in the bathroom.
Looked in the mirror like:
“Karen… baby… you strong. You beautiful.
You also broke as hell and finna catch the bus, so tighten up.”
I walked in the kitchen…
Why is my mama dressed for brunch at 5:40 AM?
She got on her “going out wig” — the one shaped like a PTA president who start mess — and her good stretch pants (the pair without the bullet hole).
She didn’t even turn around.
“So… you giving me that money or what?”
Ma’am…
Ma’am…
You literally not even facing me, but you begging boldly.
I tried to explain to her how I’m tryna save for a car…
She looked at me like I just said I wanted to join a cult.
“A car? Girl, you DON’T need no car. The bus run just fine.”
“Ma, the bus smell like hot dog water and depression.”
“Well that’s life, baby. Now run me my money so I can get going.”
The audacity.
The confidence.
I wanna be this delusional when I grow up.
I opened my sad, anorexic wallet and gave her $40.
There go my entire food budget.
I guess I’ll be eating noodles and faith this week.
She snatched that money and was out the door like a thief in the night.
THE JOY OF PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION (lies)
I threw on my navy scrubs — the ones that make me look like a big-ass blueberry — and ran to catch the 6:15 bus.
If I miss it, it’s over.
The next one ain’t till 6:45, and if I’m late Miss Rose gon’ pop out the shadows talm bout:
“Back in MY day…”
Girl shut up.
The bus pulled up on time for once (a miracle straight from heaven).
I got on, scanned my card, and went STRAIGHT to the back away from the man arguing with his invisible coworker about the government.
Put my headphones in like this job was a TV show and I was the main character.
Because honestly… I am.
PETALS OF CRACKLEWOOD: WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE
We pull up to Petals of Cracklewood Nursing Home —
aka Petals of Crackheads & Bullshit.
Ain’t no petals.
Ain’t no crackle.
Just old folks, chaos, and a smell that mix together like “bleach, old people, and secrets.”
I walked in, clocked in, and here come this demon…
“WELL WELL WELL… look who decided to show up.”
MISS. ROSE.
This wig-wearing retired slave master.
I turned slow with the fakest smile ever manufactured.
“Good morning, Miss Rose.”
She looked me up and down like I was late for roll call in a bootcamp she invented.
“Morning report start at seven…
You DO know that… right?”
It was 6:57.
“Yes ma’am, I’m aware.”
She rolled her eyes so hard her wig almost shifted.
Miss Rose been at Petals for 20+ years and think that make her the CEO, CFO, HR, and the Ghost of Christmas Past all in one.
This lady ain’t done real CNA work since Obama first got in office, but swear SHE trained Harriet Tubman.
SHIFT REPORT = WHY AM I EVEN HERE
Night shift Tamika looked like she was in spiritual warfare all night.
Bags on bags.
Scrubs wrinkled.
Eyes glazed like Krispy Kreme.
“Karen, THANK GOD you here. Last night was HELL.”
She gave me the rundown:
• Lee in Room 12 tried to smoke again
• Fire alarm went off
• Miss Lulabee thought it was the rapture
• Mr. Allen tried to slide in Miss Sue room talm bout “checking on her”
• Miss Luna refused to evacuate cuz “if she going to glory, she going in her bed”
A regular Tuesday, basically.
Then Tamika handed me a sticky note:
“Karen — MAKE SURE Miss Luna gets a bath. She NEEDS it. – Rose”
The NEEDS was underlined three times like I ain’t been knowing Miss Luna smell like sautéed misery.
THE RESIDENTS: AKA Stressful Human Beings
Room 1: Easy. Sweet old man. Quick work.
Room 2: Talked my ears OFF.
Room 3:
The devil’s playground.
MISS. LUNA.
This lil old lady fight baths like she beefing with the water itself.
I walk in.
“Miss Luna… it’s bath day.”
“NO.”
“Miss Luna…”
“I SAID NO. I TOOK ONE LAST WEEK.”
“That was THREE weeks ago.”
“Time is a construct.”
Maaaaan.
She only agreed when I bribed her with the SOFT chocolate chip cookies.
Twenty minutes later, she clean, she fresh, she eatin’ cookies, and she STILL talm bout:
“You still annoying.”
Love her tho.
MISS ROSE BEING… MISS ROSE
She standing in the hallway talm bout:
“Back in my day—”
Girl back in your day y’all put whiskey in baby bottles.
Please relax.
Miss Lulabee refused meds.
I talked her down.
Miss Rose swore SHE coulda done it better.
She can’t.
Then Brittany came crying cuz she smelled crack in Room 12 again.
I walk in.
Lee look me dead in my face talm bout:
“It’s medicinal.”
LEE.
PLEASE.
LUNCH BREAK (aka my funeral)
My stomach screaming.
I ain’t have no lunch money cuz my mama robbed me blind at 5AM.
Jorge — bless his holy soul — gave me half his rice & beans.
Then Miss Rose walked in watching me eat like I stole HER food.
Talm bout:
“Back in my day we didn’t take lunch breaks.”
Ma’am.
In your day y’all didn’t have rights.
END OF SHIFT: I HATE IT HERE
By 3PM my back was gone, my soul was flickering, and my spirit filed a complaint.
I clocked out and dragged myself to the bus stop.
Mama texted me:
“Get some milk.”
I responded:
“I DON’T HAVE MONEY.”
She texted back:
“But you GOT PAID.”
Ma’am…
YOU spent it.
I got on the bus smelling like bleach, regret, and soft cookies.
Closed my eyes.
Prepared to do it again tomorrow.
Because this is life at Petals of Cracklewood.
And honestly?
Y’all gon’ wanna keep reading.
Cuz this is just Chapter One.
Want Chapter Two?
Hit that subscribe, baby.
Cuz you ain’t seen NOTHING yet.
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