I get to work on Monday. I rushed to my cubicle already subconscious of the scratches, because "you know how that can get." I kept pinching my collar together to keep them from showing. I thought I could've kept them under wraps at least until they scab and not look so raw.
It just so happened that one of my boys at the job, a real funny guy caught a glimpse as I turned my head as he passed by. The first words out his mouth... "Damn Ike, is she OK?" I replied. "Dumb ass, I didn't touch her! He asked me what happened and I told him but he chose to put a spin on it regardless and ran with it because that made it funnier. Mind you, this is all coming from a crazy guy himself!
For weeks I had to endure him shooting past my cubicle with his mail cart whispering "Please Ike, don't beat Tina" or "chill Ike." Ha, ha, ha... Next thing I knew more of my homeys began casually calling me Ike as if I announced a name change or something. Getting pissed, I tried to do damage control. I kept barking, "my name's not Ike!" but that did nothing but fuel the funny fire while having a good ol' time at my expense. I even tried to act cool assuming it would fade but it didn't. Wiggling out of it or taking it personal wasn't going to help. When your boys hit you with a name usually you've been branded.
The constant "Ike, don't beat Tina" echoed in my head then a light bulb went on. I took the negative and made it to a positive and "Ike Betina" was born. Depending on who I was around, I'd pronounce it "buh-teena" instead of "bee-teena" to ward off any unwanted, negative connotations. Hey, everybody has skeleton filled closets themselves.
I am Ike Betina