Bullshit Was the King...With Fries

                                                Bullshit…Was the King With Fries

                                    (Working at Castle King Summer/Winter 1989)


                                                               Jassiri Nassor

As I listen to A Tribe Called Quest’s classic album “People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths

of Rhythm,” my mind drifts back to one of the many “jobs” that I had during my early

formative years between 1988-1991, also known as my high school years.  Looking back on that

time now at the age of 45, I can claim, with the utmost confidence that I was a very focused

and determined young man, with a vision and a goal.  My vision and goal was cool, as far as

the average 16 year old, who was still figuring out himself was concerned.


I was a member and a large participator (i.e. starter) for my high school football and track

teams. Thus, I knew much of what would become known in the 2000’s as multitasking or doing

too much at one time. However, even with my schedule of after school activities and academic

devotion, I wanted and needed some MONEY.  I wanted to dress FRESH, like Big Daddy Kane

or BBD.  


I wanted to attract the girlies with a few new outfits and of course I needed a few dollars to go

and kick it at the movie theater and eat afterwards. Mom and Dad preached the importance of

hard work, perseverance and that was great inspiration, but inspiration was not buying me a

new pair of suede shell toe Adidas.  


So when football and track season was over, I knew I had to find a job, a summer job.  My first

option of course was to get a job at one of the two local malls. Come on…think about it,

getting a job at the mall at the age of 16 for any teenager is on the same level as an adult

winning the  lottery! 


I envisioned the opportunity to be at the mall and actually getting paid to be there.  I saw

myself working at a store were cute girls would come in often with a need for help and who

better to help them than me!  I envisioned myself high fiving friends that would stop by and

making the extra money that I wanted, while being a first class flirt. Yeaahhhh…that’s what I



However, those so called managers at the various stores I applied to at the mall could not or

would not see any potential in me. They refused to see the vision!  Looking back, I still cannot

understand what qualifications they were looking for that I did not have. Let’s examine the 16

year old me, shall we. You had a young man who was making great grades in high school and

was a great athlete, who was on track to do the college thing. I never got into any serious

trouble in school and the school’s definition of trouble, was me getting detention on certain

afternoons, because I was late to class or to school. Please…where was the problem? 


I remember my last point of frustration, after weeks of applying to several mall stores and

visiting them several times to follow up on my applications. Following a recent follow up visit

to the mall I was walking and I came across this older looking man who happened to be

wearing a manager name tag. He was in charge of a store that I really did not want to work for.  

It must have been a pet store or a hardware store. 


The guy told me that their store did not have any job openings rather quickly, as I began to

initiate a conversation. I looked at him like he was stupid, because I really did not care about

that, I just wanted an honest opinion from someone that was in a position of management. I

needed answers dammit, minus the attitude!  


I told the man of my qualifications and asked him…very boldly…”Would you hire me if you

could?”  He said yes and I demanded to know, what seems to be the problem with these other

stores?  He shrugged his shoulders and said “I don’t know?”


That’s when I was forced to downgrade my “high level” job outlook.  From visions of the mall,

to Blockbuster video (remember them, good riddance), Kentucky Fried Chicken (Ugh!!!),

McDonald’s (Nooo!!!), The Dollar Store, Family Dollar (what is the difference…) Krogers,

Winn Dixie, Food Lion and of course (BooBoo) Castle King. 


I remember receiving a call at home one afternoon, from an individual whose voice seemed

moderately professional.  After answering the phone I heard a voice say “May I speak with

Jassiri,”  “This is he,” I replied.  "My name is Jack Sharass and I am the manager at Castle

King on Peach Orchard road. I had an opportunity to read your application and I would like to

invite you in for an interview.”  I must admit that after hearing this guy say the words “invite

you in for an interview,” I was not buzzing with excitement.  I did not see the excitement in

working there, but I figured it was at least a job.  


I asked this slouch when would I need to come in for an interview.  After a short interaction

based on our availability, we agreed on Thursday at 4pm.  It was Monday at that time, so I had

a few days to “prepare.”  I told my mom about the interview and she told me to make sure that

I dressed very professionally for the interview.  I recall saying to my mom that I was

interviewing for a job to sling burgers and fries. 


She replied with conviction that “You do not dress for the job you are applying for, you dress

as if you are applying for the manager’s job, that is your outlook and the impression that you

should give.”  I thought that can be good and bad, however her advice was well noted.  My

thoughts going into the days leading up to the interview and the day of the interview were that

on one hand I will appease my mother’s wishes and wear a suit to the King’s interview and yet

my other thoughts were on the total opposite end.


My mind was constantly stuck on the thought of “Why in the world am I going to were a suit to

get a job where I am going to smell like fries and burgers?”  I imagined myself telling my

interviewer asinine things like “Sir I will be the best french fry fryer, burger flipper, onion cutter

that you have ever seen!” “By golly, I will mop the floor to a magnificent shine!” Please…


Wow, what types of stupid shit were they really looking for a high school cat to say? I imagined

the guy asking me a question like, “So, where do you see yourself in five years?” The standard

interview question, yet, coming from Castle King and directed towards a 16-year-old.  In my

mind I envisioned answering the question with one part affirmation and one part audacity,

while holding my nuts. I imagined…looking around the restaurant at employees and customers

engaged in mindless activity.  Lastly, after taking in a deep breath, I would, explode with a

blunt and obscene, “Ha” just to shock my interviewer and then…continuing with a sheepish  

grin…”Muthafucka, I ain’t gone be in this bitch!,” The thought made me laugh to myself in the

days leading up to this interview.


I was not much of a healthy eater in those days, so I frequented many fast food restaurants. I

would see these managers with their white short sleeve shirts, wearing the clip on tie. I

examined the dress slacks, that did not really look the part of dress wear, decorated with

perfectly placed wrinkles, the kind that dry cleaners can never get out, not even under 2000

degrees of iron pressure. I honestly was never impressed with the fast food manager image. 


I did like seeing the cute girls who worked there with their uniform pants on.

Of, course my attraction was from 16-year-old eyes, so get your mind out of the gutter.  


I did not prepare any special speech and I was not nervous, just very comfortable leading up to

the interview. The day of the interview, my dad gave me a ride there and would come back

when he thought I was done. Before I got out of the car he asked me if I was ready. I smiled

and said “sure no big deal.”  He gave me a smile of approval and a fist bump, then I was on my



I walked into Castle King with a confident stride, a fresh Box Fade and wearing crisp grey

dress pants, black dress shoes, white dress shirt and a grey dress coat. No tie.  I can honestly

say that I was more handsome than the manger that was going to interview me, I was in better

physical shape and I clearly had a much calmer personality.


When I saw the person who matched the description of a fast food manager, he looked like life

was whooping his ass and beating the back of his neck like a drum. I stayed cool. After the last

customer placed their order, I asked the young lady at the counter if I could speak with Jack

Sharass. “Sure, I’ll get him for you” she said. She was cute, but my mind was on business.  I

moved away from the counter a little, in case someone wanted to place an order.


Then…out from the smoke of popping grease and crackling cow flesh, stepped good ole’ Jack.

He told me that he would be back out in about fifteen minutes. He led me to the area were the

interview would take place, where I sat and looked around the restaurant while I waited. I

noticed people constantly coming in and out and then all of a sudden, no customers being in

the store.


It is funny how every time that I have gone somewhere for an interview in my life, that the time

which I agreed to be present for an interview, was never the actual time that the interview took

place. These inconsiderate bastards have always had me sitting and waiting, as if my whole

world is going to rise, fall and revolve around a job. As if I never have anything else to do.


While waiting, I decided to entertain myself by looking out of the lobby windows at the

Kentucky Fried Chicken across the street, the Nissan dealership nearby, then the traffic that

passed the restaurant.  Before long, I was just gazing out of the windows.  After about twenty

minutes of this, Sharass appeared.


He may have been about 6’2’, in his thirties and he clearly had not missed a day without a few

burgers and fries, as his pot belly gave that away. He was a Caucasian guy with brown hair and

a brown wannabe Tom Seleck mustache. The stains on his shirt and the smell of food on his

clothes, spoke to a long day at the kitchen. As he extended his hand in greeting I did the

proper move and shook his hand.


The first thing out of his mouth was one of those cliché interview questions. “So tell me

why would like to work at Castle King?” After feeding him some well-placed bullshit. The

fool smiled and then asked me the next well know question. What type of skills and work ethic

can you offer to Castle King? I remember that while he was asking me these questions, that

he would look down at this paper. It did not take me long to figure out that this slob was

reading questions from a list! “Wow,” I thought, “He cannot ask me some questions off the top

of his head!” I also remembered that he had “THE DRAGON” something terrible aka bad

breath. His breath smelt like a combination of ass, whoppers and coffee , goadddamn!!! I

controlled my urge to laugh and continued with the interview.


As a response to his question, I told him that I had a strong work ethic and a since of personal

responsibility that was instilled in me by my parents, which has been perfected by participating

in organized team sports such as football and track, which I am highly involved in at Butler

High School. “I take pride in making sure that I take care of the responsibilities that I have

been entrusted with, in other words, doing my part for the overall success of the team.” I

sealed the deal with those words and I did not need a paper to read off of. I also was only

partially looking him in the eye, as I was slightly turning my head, for gulps of fresh air.


I felt that I was clearly more intelligent than this person interviewing me, but I was willing to

play along. I mean after all, I wanted some new clothes to carry out my lowly teenaged

ambitions.  The next thing I know, the guy offered me the job and wanted to know when could

I start. I told him I could start on Monday afternoon. I figured I would take the job, yet I wanted

to enjoy my weekend and start off fresh with a whole week at my disposal. Plus, I was not

about to start looking desperate.


The whole interview process took about an hour and a half. My dad had gone to run some

errands and just happened to come back right as I was exiting the building. As I entered his ’89

Camaro, I told him I got the job and that I would start working on Monday afternoon. Dad

was happy, when mom found out she was ecstatic along with my younger sister. When my

friends found out about the new job, instantly they mentioned FREE FOOD!!!!  


On my first official day as a laborer for CK. My mom and I arranged for her to give me a ride to

Burger King after she got off from her job.  I agreed to be there a 5pm and I was there at

4:40pm. I walked towards the entrance wearing my brand new burgundy polo shirt with the

blue collar and sleeve trimming, spruced up with a splash of white and red for added flash. My

blue trousers matched my blue sun visor hat with the “Da King” logo centered in the front. I

wore my shirt and trousers a little loose, but not much, in keeping with b-boy style rules.

Otherwise, the uniform would have been too tight and I was not about to look like that.


I bopped in and noticed another manager was on duty at the time. This guy would prove to be

very two faced in the long run.  A true “company man” whose actions, thoughts, speech and

mannerisms were always the best for his own personal gain, his smile and flimsy hand shake

could not hide the fact. “How are you, you must be Jassiri, I was told by Jack that you would

be starting today,” he said.


His name was Tim and he was an African American brother from the Augusta, GA area, who

appeared to be in his late-twenties. He stood about 5’9’ tall and I guess in order to fit the

stereotypical manager type, he had a “pot belly” as well. His manor of speech and diction gave

away a hint of some type of higher educational achievement, however he was not a walking

dictionary. Tim would take the next hour showing me around the kitchen which was manned by

other teenager’s such as myself.


After I clocked in, he first introduced me to Lakisha the cashier. “Lakisha this is Jassiri, Jassiri,

Lakisha.”  She smiled this big beautiful smile, “How are you?” she said. “I’m doing good,” I

replied, as I was thinking of how I was going to get her phone number.  Tim immediately

introduced me to Stacy who was working the drive through window. She gave me a smile and

polite wave as she was handing an order to a customer.  I thought “She’s cute, too.” I was still

sour about not working at the mall, but I saw two reasons to not be so sour anymore.


Next, I was introduced to Rolo who was working the fryer and sandwich board. “What’s up

man,” Rolo asked as we gave each other dap. “I’m good bruh, just trying to learn the place.” I

replied. “Oh, its easy once you get a hang of it, we’ll take care of ya.” Rolo seemed like a cool

brother. I was next introduced to Cody, who was working the burger and chopper board,

we shook hands as young Black men do. “Yo, what up son,” I was caught off guard by his

accent and choice of words. I had to ask,” Where you from man?” “Ah, man I’m from Brooklyn,

NY, a summer vacation ended up being a stay, my mom and pops is wildin’, ya dig,” he

painfully replied. “We’ll get up.” “Cool,” I replied, as he got back to preparing burgers.


Then Tim introduced me to Lamar, who was assisting with the fryer and working the broiler-

toaster, which was the heartbeat of the King. The machine that was constantly churning out

cow flesh for eating enjoyment. Lamar and I dapped each other while he gave me a ”What up,

mane.”  “I’m cool man,” I replied. “You’ll start training today on the broiler and fryer with

Lamar,” Tim revealed.


I was then taken to the toaster and special sandwich board where I laughed due to the sight

of one of my friends from high school, cool ass Raymond Lee. We laughed as we dapped each

other up. Raymond and his family were from Korea. Though he was Asian, my being African

American didn’t prevent us from having huge similarities. An equal appreciation for INXS,

Tribe Called Quest, Big Daddy Kane, The D.O.C., jokes and girls bridged the gap across the

so called “racial lines.” “Man, how long have you been working here?” I asked. “This is my

second day.” Raymond replied. “I didn’t want to say anything until I finished my 90 days, you

know” he added. “It’s cool,” I replied. Though Raymond spoke perfectly good English, his

accent tended to show here and there. His accent would hilariously take the spotlight when he

would repeat the rhymes from his favorite song “Smooth Operator” by BDK. Imagine a Korean

man with a heavy native accent rapping “Will excuse me take a few minutes to mellow out..” 


“I see you guys know each other…that’s good,” Tim’s phony appreciation of my friendship

didn’t go unnoticed. Tim took me back over to Lamar and Cody for them to show me “the

ropes” on how to use the fryer to cook fries and other items, which did not seem that difficult.  

I was also shown how to place chicken nuggets and potato wedges in a fryer next to the first

one I was shown.


Cody’s job mainly was to put sandwiches together, which Lamar helped him do often,

depending on the amount of customers that were ordering. “Man we got ya bruh,” Lamar and

Cody reassured me. “This job is gravy, you feel me?,” Lamar added. 


They began to explain the steps of how to take the wire baskets off the fry rack, operate the

lift arm, taking the fries from the fryer and making sure the fries had the right amount of salt,

once they were taken out of the fryer and placed in the fry bagging station or warmer.  I

followed Lamar to the freezer after placing a batch of fries in the popping grease. As I walked

off, I watched the results of pressing the red lower button on the fryer and watched the slow

decent of the fries into the grease, to begin their snap, crackle and pop. 


Lamar opened the freezer door or should I say the CK safe, were I observed processed food

gold in an iced heaven. Lamar’s first action was to show me the red emergency button inside.

“Emergency button?” I blurted out puzzlingly. “Yeah man, in case the door closes on you or

whatever, you press the red button to get out this muthafucka. Sheeeeeiiiit, if you get stuck in

here, yo ass gon be cold as fuck,” Lamar instructed. I agreed and followed further into the cold



I was shown a box that was stacked on top of several others. From this top box Lamar pulled

out a reasonably sized bag that must have weighed at least 15lbs. “These are the fries and this

is were they are kept.” The brother then showed me were the vegetables or should I say the

only four vegetables, onions, tomatoes, lettuce and pickles were kept. I was shown the location

of the burger patties with the trademark black stripes, “stiffed” chicken nuggets, buns of

various sizes and breakfast items.


Just outside of the freezer as we exited, I was shown the location of various utensils that were

placed in the bags of customers as needed. I was then shown these small rectangular boxes

containing clear bags of brown liquid. “O.K what’s that?” I asked. “That’s the syrup and water

bags, that’s how they make the Pepsi and Coca Cola.” With a look of confusion I said “What!?”

“Yeah man, its crazy and the boxes with clear syrup are used for da Sprite, Orange and Purple

Sodas.” I couldn’t resist making a comment, “People don’t know what their eating and drinking,

but it taste good.” “Yeah and you know you gone’ get a burger, fries and soda the first chance

you get.” Lamar rebuked my short lived health observation, with perfect timing.


My being shown these new things was done so in a hurry, since we needed to get back to the

fries. The fryer would beep several times when the fried side items were done cooking and

rising like Lazarus, from the grease. I spent the next five hours trying my hand at the broiler

and fries section of the kitchen. We would constantly keep moving as the burgers and the buns

would roll off of the broiler and toaster, sometimes so fast that if we didn’t hurry, the product

would fall on the floor.


The longer I worked with Lamar, Cody, Rolo and Raymond that first night in the CK kitchen ,

the more we joked over male, 16 year old, topics. “Why the brothers always calling girls bad?”

“I mean, if you like her, why you calling her bad? Raymond asked, while hooking up special

sandwiches. “Because, if she looks better than any girl you ever seen before, she looking like

she got a spotlight on her, and the only thing you can think to say at that moment, is damn she

bad.” I replied. We all let out a good belly laugh.  “Stay focused fellas,” was Tim’s chime in on

our friendly conversation, as he would constantly move from the kitchen to the cashiers



In the process of it all, I couldn’t help but notice that the guys would freely eat a few fries from

the warmer bin, go in the warmer bin where chicken nuggets were kept and eat a few, then

take a chopper or other sandwich throughout the night, go in the freezer and eat it.


So, I eventually had to ask like a true slow poke, “Hey, are we allowed to eat this food?” “Man if

I cook it, I eat it, word,” Cody answered. Lamar shook his head in agreement, “I will tell

you this,” added Lamar, “When we leave for the night, we are allowed to make a sandwich to

take with us, but we gone eat.” I took note of that for later.


The calm and then sudden rush of customers was a regular part of a fast food restaurant. My

first afternoon/night had proven to be successful and I gladly went home to get the smell of

burgers and fries off of me. I worked four evenings a week during May, June and July of the

summer of 1989. I voluntarily arranged my working hours to just weekend eight hour shifts in

August, so I could work around my football games and practice schedule over the next five



As the months went by, I found myself in the month of October, feeling very comfortable

working at Castle King. I reached my original goals of buying at least one pair of dope suede

shell toe Adidas, jeans and a matching shirt once a month. My pockets were fat, so it was

nothing for me to go see a movie, hang out at the mall and go on a date every once in a while.

I was feeling good. But, you know for some reason, as a successful 16 year old doing my thing, I

seemed to begin to draw the displeasure of Tim and Jackass, I mean Jack Sharass. I always came

to work on time, did my job properly, was trained on all stations, and kept my uniform clean. So

what could have been the issue?


My first hint of foolery started not long after one Saturday night of helping to close the store, I

asked Tim if I could take a chopper and fries home with me. I asked him specifically if I had to

pay and he clearly said “no.” That first time occurred in September of ’89. Every other week

after that I would make a chopper and fries for myself and either eat in the actual restaurant

during my short break or take it home without paying. If I ate the “food” in the lobby during a

break Jack or Tim would give me a “screw face” as I sat down taking bites. I couldn’t help but

notice the “funny vibe” they would give me as I clocked in and as I worked.  My folk, Raymond,

Cody, Lamar and Rolo all kept treating themselves to food as they worked and I helped myself

as well.


We knew how to be discreet and to look out for each other to make sure the “managers” were

not around. Yet, as Halloween was approaching, the “Pot Bellies” in charge called me into the

management office as soon as I came in one Saturday afternoon. “Jassiri how have you been,”

Jack asked as he reached out his hand for a greeting. “I am doing good,” I replied as I shook

his hand and then shook Tim’s hand.


Tim then dropped a gut punch on me followed by an uppercut. “We have noticed that you

have been eating sandwiches and fries very frequently, without paying for them.” My face

contorted and I looked to my left at Jack and then to my right at Tim in the small cramped

manager office.  “So watcha sayin?” I asked. “I think that I gave you an opportunity and you

stole from us, that’s what I’m saying, buddy,” Jack replied in an agitated voice.  These old idiots

were trying to front on me! I looked directly at Uncle Tim and said “Man, I asked Tim months

ago if I had to pay for the food that I take home or eat on breaks and he said no!” I retorted

angrily. These slouches were trying my patients and calling me a thief and I didn’t appreciate it.

There were no cameras in the kitchen area in those days, so there was no way they saw me or

the other guys eating buffet style anytime we chose. So it wasn’t that.


The next thing I heard was the icing on the cake. “I did not tell Jassiri any such thing, clearly

employees have to pay for the food, according to Castle King policies.” I felt like I had been

punched in the gut.


I looked at Tim with amazement and asked “Are you serious?  “I have to steal your stinking

burgers!?” “I asked you a long time ago. If there was a problem then why didn’t you say

something to me months ago?” Jack stepped in to save Tim’s sorry behind. “That’s irrelevant,

you violated store policy and you’re fired.”  I looked at those two clowns with shock and I

wanted to hit both of them in the mouth, especially lying Tim. As I began what felt like a long

walk out of the store, my friends were looking at me with shock and gave me a look like they

wanted to say something, but didn’t know what to say and they wanted to keep their gig, so

defending me was not a choice.


As I walked past the broiler, Jackass decided to shame me on the way out. “Everybody watch

your pockets, Jassiri’s a thief and he might take what you got right from under you?” That son

of a bitch was rubbing salt on my firing and enjoying it. I was heated, shocked and I didn’t

bother replying, I just wanted to bounce.


My Dad had just dropped me off at CK thirty minutes earlier, so I had to call for a ride home. I

didn’t dare try to call for a ride from the store. If I would have stayed in there any longer it may

have got ugly. So I walked to the nearest payphone at a gas station down the street. That was a

cold move those chumps played on me, especially Tim. I remember Chuck D from Public

Enemy having a line in one of his raps saying “Every brother ain’t a brother.” I found that out

the hard way, that clown Tim was the worst kind of crab, the kind to smile in your face.


I called my dad from the gas station down the street and he came back to pick me up in a

short period of time. He wasn’t happy about what happened to me, but he didn’t feel that

cursing them out was worth it. “The same way you found that job, you can always find another.

You’re gonna have plenty of jobs before you’re done. That was just your first experience.” My

dad told me as I sat angrily on the passenger side as he drove me home. 


My mom wondered why I was home so early and after I told her what happened, she angrily

said “That’s bullshit!” “There is a right way and a wrong way to treat everybody and that wasn’t

right. They tried to embarrass you on the way out? I ought to go down there right now.”  My

dad talked her out of it as she had already snatched up her keys. We talked about my

experience at CK as my sister chimed in occasionally. We agreed that I needed to just focus on

school and finish the football and track seasons before looking for a new job. 


After cleaning myself up, I was coolin' at my house, still letting that episode at Burger King

marinate. Raymond gave me a call after he got off from CK trying to check on me to see if I

was all right. “What type of grown man hates on a 16 year old?” I asked.  I told him I was

pissed, but I was a playa, so I was gonna be straight, besides I got football to think about.

They messed with my paper though, I was planning on coppin’ a hooptie, so I could stop

asking my parents for their ride, but oh well.


I would go on to get a job at a music store at one of the malls in Augusta, GA during the

summer of 1990 and stayed there until June 1991 before heading off to college. All of my

teen aged mall dreams came true!  I was laughing at Jack and Tim on the inside every time I

arrived at my mall job. I was still borrowing my parent’s cars but I had plenty of 30% off music

in those cars to ride to.


So as time went on I wasn’t trippin' about C King. My situation was tight.  I was still cool with

the guys from CK and my high school friends,  while making new friends in college. The

summer of 1992, I was back in town from college for summer vacation. After driving back to

Augusta from Savannah, GA in an 1989 Honda Accord that my aunt Mildred gave me, I went

home hugged my family and  dropped my suitcase in my room.

My first action was to called up all the homies so we could hang out. I ended up leaving

messages that I was back in town with whoever was at home or on an answering machine, this

was before social media and cell phones of course. I got a call back from Lamar who

promptly rode out with me to the mall.


Lamar was going to college in South Carolina, so it was good to catch up on old times and the

new happenings. As we were flitting with girls and laughing at each other, while strolling

through the mall, we decided to take a break and find a cookie restaurant. We placed our order

with a young guy working the cash register. “Let us get 10 chocolate chip cookies,” I order

while looking down at the menu on the counter. When I looked up, I caught the shock of a



“Peep game, ain’t that Jack working back there?,” I asked Lamar  “Yeah…eh what’s up dusty

Cletus!?” Lamar spotted Jack and called him out on the spot. “I ain’t seen you in a minute! You

look like you S.T. rugglin, my G…what you doing…making cookies? Oh, you the Pillsbury

Dough Man now?”  "Wooo hooo!!" I added in joyful expression. Lamar left Castle King on bad

terms also. He didn’t leave as calmly as I did and Jack called the police on him. Luckily, he

didn’t see jail time or violence. So when we saw Jack, we were like two wolves marking our



We could see good old Jack through the small square opening between the cash register and

the kitchen, he could not hide. He had his head down as he was preparing our order. Clearly he

was not at Castle King anymore.  Lamar continued to rag him “You traded the crown for a

baker cap?”   “Ah yo’ where yo hair net at? Do we need to call the district manager?” I couldn’t

resist, “Make sure them crusty ass hands are clean before you touch my chocolate chips…I’m

gonna need you to hurry up with my order, before I get upset…you feel me?" Lamar and I

laughed hysterically as our knees would buckle and we would fall over on the small counter of

“Cookie Co.” slapping the counter for good measure. Enjoying the fall of Sharass.


“Jackkkkkk…Jack…you better not spit on those cookies…I’m serious…don’t start no trouble

Jack,” I threw a hay maker and then I got him with a jab,” Heeeeeyyy Jack, pull out two of

those 10 dollar food stamps and hook us up for…old…time…sake." “You Big Dummy, your future

is CLOUDY with a chance of PAIN” I got Jack again. Lamar and I kneeled over in laughter

again! We clowned him relentlessly, his face was stop sign red.  


There was nothing he could do about it, he was strictly kitchen staff as the managers name and

number was listed in a picture frame on the wall, above the cash register.  When I saw that, I

couldn’t stop, I told Jack “Yo, calm down. Take a deep breath and then hold it for about twenty



“Ah, man, you still got “THE DRAGON?”  I couldn’t help myself I had to ask. I continued without

mercy, “You mad Cletus?  We just jokin’ bruh…come on…bruh. Eh…repeat after me, I…am…

somebody…you busta!”  We laughed louder with each insult, holding each other up and falling

over in laughter between each joke. The young guy behind the register was having a hard time

trying not to laugh with us, as he tried to cover his mouth, but the frequent sight of his teeth

and the tears coming from his eyes gave him away. He was enjoying the show!


I made a second order in between trying to catch my breath, ”Let us get 10 almond, chocolate,

caramel cookies.” We received our chocolate chip cookies, but I wasn’t through with Jack. I

had more to get off my chest. I took a bite of the fresh out of the oven cookies and continued

verbally smacking Jackass.


“You ought to be ashamed of yourself. You tried to embarrass me back in the day, I was 16

years old? You see how things change, we on the good foot, fool you on the bad foot, with 2

left feet, looking like a fat ass Barney Fife.” Lamar wanted some, “Man you know that music

they play on the Price is Right when somebody gets the answer wrong?” He pointed at Jack,

“Cletus, yo LIFE is the WRONG ANSWER!” Lamar tapped me on the shoulder,

“J, sing it with me, dumb, dumb, dee-dumb, duuuuuuummmmmmmmmbbbb?” 


It was my turn, “How can a grown man get fired from Castle King? What kind of insurance did

you have? A band aid and vaseline? By this time, the young guy behind the counter was falling

over in laughter with us. I let Jack have it again, “Man ya’ll threw away more food than I ate.

Man you are a SINNER…and I’m gone ROAST yo’ ass to HELL!” My stomach was starting to hurt

from laughing at Jack, as I continued. “Boy, Jesus said I can’t do nothin’ with you. Lucifer told

this fool, its hot in here, its hot in here, its hot, its hot, its hot in here!...Man your LIFE needs an



My joke partner and I couldn’t take it any more, our sides were hurting. As we were leaving the

Cookie Co., we noticed that we had drew an amused small crowd.  More teeth were on display

from the cheerful rainbow colored crowd. We were so into laughing, that we barely noticed.

We should have passed around a collection plate, from our focused roasting.


It was one of the best summers I ever had in my life and it started with a bang! I never saw Tim

again, but we let Jack have enough for both of them. Myself and the other young guys and

young ladies formally of Castle King ,were at well respected universities trying to figure out

adulthood and this thing called life. Exploring unseen places, taking college road trips,

studying and playing hard, while learning well earned life lessons. While, Jack was making a

new batch of cookies. He caught the VAPORS 


The moral of my story, the lesson to be learned is that it does not matter what anybody tries to

do to you, you always have the option to rebound and be successful on your own terms.  The

person that you think is on the top may not always be on top and if you are at the bottom, who

said that you have to stay there? The last point is a lot of people allow early life experience to

plague them their whole life. Something that happened at age 16 can still affect a person at

age 50 or older and for many people has done so their entire life.  Getting hold of yourself and

being bold enough to check past experiences and bold enough to grab a better way of life is

the only way and no one can do it but you. Don't let a Jackass stop you from being happy!


Shout out to Biz Markie, Big Daddy Kane, The D.O.C, A Tribe Called Quest and Bell Biv DeVoe




Jassiri Nassor


Welcome to Thought Elevation Ola, a starting place for the seeker of the deeper questions of life and the serious self evaluator. My name is Jassiri Nassor. I am a Spiritual/Reality based Thinker and Creative Writer. I specialize in higher level thought. I enjoy helping myself and assisting individuals connect life's dots through the sciences of Metaphysics, Occultism, Common Sense, and Unadulterated NERVE. Over the past six years my study of the aforementioned systems have helped me tremendously in my personal growth and understanding of myself and the world around me. 

The purpose of this blog is to share my personal stories and insights on daily life in a manner that is relatable and based on the FACT that changing the world is irrelevant until you first change YOURSELF. Acknowledging and conquering the negative features of yourself and your flaws is the ultimate victory. Most people need inspiration to do such a thing, well... you have found the right place. I have found that a well rounded person is balanced in the areas of Mental, Spiritual, Physical and Financial pursuits. I do not have all of the answers , yet I share what I have learned on my personal exploration. Through my sharing, I am sure we can find common ground.

Though we are seeking answers together, it doesn't have to be always serious. Laughter and just being a plain smart ass is good medicine for the soul. TRUTH is a excellent truth serum as well. I usually publish new blog post two times per week and I always deliver content to make you think and laugh. Thus, if you do not mind getting a smile on your face and top grade gas in your tank, sign up for the latest blog post and updates on myself Jassiri Nassor and Thought Elevation Ola.