Scene from one of the all time best Kung-Fu movies ever, “Enter the Dragon.” For all you younger cats who never seen the movie, do yourself a favor and don’t cheat yourself out of this experience. Just one question though. What the hell were those forties doing at a Kung-Fu tournament?
Posted on May 14, 2008 at 07:43 AM | Comment (0 comments) | Digg
I had a little bit more than an hour to kill with my shit date, Liza before the movie she chose, a cheesy Saturday Night Live spin-off would show at the 84th street Loews. I took her to Flor De Mayo, an affordable and reliable choice for dates like her. I needed a strong Nutcracker if I was going to listen to her brag about shopping at Payless shoes for another hour. Her movie and shoe choices would have normally bothered me, but they were all that much more offensive since she had already self righteously questioned my lack of a formal education within the first ten minutes of our date. My defense mechanisms pegged her I.Q. at about 70, and that was being generous. Our future together was limited to the next six hours or so. If we ever made it to my bedroom, I already decided that I was going to jam my thumb in her ass, fuck her with utmost disrespect and then cum in her hair.
Once shown to our table, Liza babbled about her last boyfriend and how poorly he treated her as I entertained myself by people watching. It wasnt a particularly attractive crowd tonight, I thought to myself as a family of four was seated diagonally across from us. The first thing I noticed was the womans hips, full and voluptuous. Then her cleavage which showcased her breasts, which swayed towards the ceiling. She looked Dominican and had distinct features that were model like. She had full red, glossy lips and majestic cheekbones. Her large Asian like eyes gave me an immediate sense of deja vu. I couldnt help but feel that I knew her. I just couldnt place where from.
Liza broke my spell by complaining that I wasnt paying attention to her.
I was just taking it in. Thats fucked up shit. Why do you think guys treat you like this I bullshitted her good.
Right? Im such a nice girl she responded.
The waiter took our orders. I ordered my usual roast chicken dish along with my drink. Liza ordered fried chicken chunks with a Sex on the Beach with a stupid grin on her face.
My favorite drink! she offered.
Good. I said.
You ever had sex on the beach? she flirted.
I dont find anything sexy about getting sand up my ass.
She snorted as she laughed. My eyes widen.
I love sex. She looked me in my eyes.
I know. Thats why were having this date. I smirked as I tensed up, waiting for the backlash.
Oh I see. You think you’re all that. What makes you think Im going to sleep with you?
I shrugged my shoulders. Probably the same thing that made me think you would say yes when I asked you out.
Liza couldnt help but grin. Are you sure you arent gay, because you sure are acting fierce?
Nah, Im not gay. I only call it how I see it.
I looked her up and down.
I know you’re not a fag hag. The ones I know dont usually shop at Payless.
Liza stared me in the face, trying to determine whether I was serious or not.
What do you got against Payless?
The name and the cheesiness it conjures up in my mind.
You know, youre pretty smart for somebody that never went to school.
Fucking bitch I thought. She got me with that one. I felt my ears become warm. She excused herself to go to the ladies room. I watched her leave. She did have a nice ass though.
I continued to focus on the Dominican woman and her family. I checked out her man. He looked like he was probably a lot more better looking ten years ago. He was bloated and tired looking and dated himself with the clothes he wore, Jean shorts, Fubu shirt and a fade haircut that was thinning on top. I was positive that he was either a cop or some kind of security guard. He was permanently angry looking and reddish around the neck and ears. High blood pressure perhaps from work related stress, or was it from the burden of trying to maintain a woman that was blatantly obviously way above his league. He had to know that every man that laid eyes on her wanted to fuck her in ways that would drive him insane. Sucker.
Liza returned, complaining about the ghetto rudeness of some girls in the ladies room. She continued on, as I tuned her out to keep with my observations. They had two handsome boys, about eight and twelve years of age. The older one still seemed unaware of his striking looks, compliments of his mother. His teeth were tragically fucked up though. I hoped that one of his parents would get the kid some braces soon. I found myself a little angry that they hadn’t already. I imagined how angry the kid will become one day over his parents unfortunate negligence, when he had to face life with such an unnecessary handicap.
I made infrequent eye contact and nodded my head to Liza to give the impression that I was with her. I was grateful that she was a talker and was able to keep herself entertained. She was now going on about how the girls she worked with were all bitches and jealous of her.
I wonder why. I offered.
I kept looping in my head where I might have known this woman from. She was several years older than me, so that ruled out school. Had she lived in my building or even on my street, I would have definitely remembered her. Had she been a waitress at La Caridad or La Floridita? This actually made the most sense to me, except that I probably would have eaten at these restaurants daily if this had been the case. She was the polar opposite of her man. Her energy was warm and inviting. She was sexy without a hint of making an effort. How did I know her? I agonized to remember.
Who are you staring at? Liza demanded to know.
Im just wondering where I know these people from. Thats all.
Its that important? She wanted to know.
Drink your Sex on the Beach.
Dont tell me what to do. She huffed and puffed and fake looked for something in her purse. I cant believe this. This is the worst date Ive been on.
I shrugged. Sorry. Right then and there, the woman made a pouting facial expression that was as uniquely hers as her D.N.A. I definitely knew her, and I knew her better than I thought.
Liza was raging by this point. Go to hell I thought as the man got up, crudely adjusting his crotch. He walked towards the rest room. I think he sneered at me. Once gone, she played with one of her boys hair and kissed the top of the head.
Holy fucking shit! I thought to myself as I got it.
She looked at me briefly then almost immediately took a second look. Her face puzzled, but it took her seconds to register in her mind where she knew me from. She smiled. I fell in love all over again. I smiled and nodded hello.
Como esta? she asked.
I smiled and nodded my head that I was good.
You dont remember me, do you? she asked, eager to know.
I nodded my head enthusiastically that I did. A most pleasant memory shoved far in the back of my sub-conscious.
You look good. You grew up well. You look very strong.
My face was paralyzed by the smirk that took over it. All I was able to do was nod my head foolishly. Liza turned to see who was talking to me. She checked the woman out from head to toe, obviously comparing how she measured up against her.
The man returned from the bathroom, wanting to know what was going on. She spoke to him in Spanish.
I wanna go! Liza hissed
Then go! I downed the rest of my Nutcracker and flagged the nearest waiter for another one.
I thought you were so cool.
This is what happens when you date guys who never went to school I snapped at Liza, still angry at her earlier comments. But since youre so well City College educated, you should have known this one simple fact of life. Guess they fucked up, huh?
The tears flowed down Lizas cheek. I felt like a dick, but for only about ten seconds.
You fucking asshole!
Both, the man and woman looked my direction. I smiled and waved. The woman checked me and smiled. Her man caught her and accused her of giving me the eye. She chastised him in Spanish.
As Liza stormed out the restaurant, the waiter brought my cocktail in perfect timing to indulge myself in blissful memory.
SPRING 1982
I sat nervously on the hard bed in a depressingly bland room that smelled like mildew. The Dominican woman sat at a vanity mirror, applying red lipstick. I was afraid to look her in the face for reasons unknown even to myself. She smiled at me. The smile was warm and sincere.
Dont be nervous.
Im not! I lied.
Youre very handsome.
I didnt know how to take the compliment. I felt my ears grow warm.
Antonio and Raul are your brothers?
My cousins, but were like brothers because I grew up with them in the same house.
I understand. Theyre cool people. They’re nice for bringing you here.
I nodded, not quite knowing how to respond.
The Dominican woman sat on the bed next to me. So you’re a virgin?
I wanted to disappear on the spot. She touched my thigh firmly and stroked up towards my crotch.
Its okay, Papi. Cause Im here for you. Today you are going to become a man.
She kissed my neck and ears. I felt myself falling in love with this warm, sensual woman. I couldnt believe this was happening.
She slipped out a breast from her negligee; I instinctively kissed it and sucked her brown areola and erect nipple. She stroked my rock hard penis through my jeans.
You’re big.
I am? I asked, surprised.
Uh huh. You are. How old are you?
Twelve and a half!
Youre going to do well with the ladies.
I appreciated the positive reinforcement. I wasnt so sure about myself sometimes.
She pulled off her panties. I observed intensely, taking in every inch of her naked flesh. This was very much like a religious ceremony to me that I waited for forever. A small triangular patch of groomed pubic hair was finally revealed. She spread her legs open for me, displaying her pussy. Mecca. Ive finally arrived. She giggled at the way I was keenly focused on her like a science experiment.
Take off your clothes. She directed me. I pulled off my shirt. At twelve, I was obsessed with doing push-ups, so my physique was more muscular than most kids my age and not only did I know it, my perception of it was outrageously exaggerated.
Wow. This is such a treat for me. You have a beautiful body. She confirmed.
I work out! I couldnt wait to blurt out.
Go on take off your pants.
I obeyed, flinging my sneakers off and stripping my jeans off with them. I stood with my Fruit of the Loom briefs, slightly embarrassed and self conscious.
What about your underwear?
Can I leave them on, for a little bit.
Come here. I did. Lay down, Papi. I also did. She went into a small bathroom. I heard running water. I couldnt help but feel paralyzed. I looked at the night stand next to the bed. It had a small shrine of Catholic saints and candles with some rose petals scattered about. She returned and bathed me.
She looked me in the eyes and smiled before she took my dick into her mouth all the way down to the base of it. She sucked slowly back up before freeing my penis. Oh my fucking God, I thought to myself, I cant believe it. I was finally getting my dick sucked. She continued to suck hard and furiously. I was torn between taking in every single lick, suck and sensation and being trapped inside my head about it. She stopped to lie on her back next to me, assuming a missionary position.
Come, Papi. She directed me. I stared at her open legs, hesitating. I didnt know how to tell her what I really wanted to do.
Come on, Papi. What are you waiting for?
I want to.., I couldnt finish the sentence.
What do you want to do?
I took my eyes off her pussy long enough to look her in the face and blurt out. I want to kiss it!
You do? She said, shocked as all hell, for reasons I could not understand as of yet.
Oh my! She smiled. This seemed to make her very happy.
I brought my head to her vagina and relished in the taste of my first lick up the side of her vulva before flicking my tongue about on her clitoris.
Oh my God, Papi! That feels so good. This cant be your first time.
I ignored her, licking and sucking feverishly, feeling like there was nothing else in the world I would have rather been doing. She moaned and groaned. I watched her facial expressions. She looked so pretty. She rubbed and played with my curly hair.
Come on, Papi. Fuck me. She sat up and kissed me on top of my head. I climbed on top of her. She reached and grabbed my dick and brought it to her wet pussy. She was about to insert it when I asked her to wait. She looked at me, curious.
Slow. I want to see it go in.
I watched as my dick disappeared inside of her. I held my breath as I felt inch by inch slide into her. I buried my face in between her neck and shoulders. I arms hugged her tightly. My pelvis dug into her as far as it would go and gyrated. She embraced me harder, moaning.
Papi!
The harder she dug her finger nails into my ass, the harder and faster I fucked her. I thought she was unusually wet and wondered if this was supposed to be.
Come Papi cum! she pleaded.
I shut my eyes tight and felt stirrings about my loins and genitals. I took short, deep breathes as parts of my body went into uncontrollable spasms. My right leg kicked on its own. I felt a warm rush shoot from deep inside of me, through my penis and exploded out. I banged my head again and again on a pillow. The noises that came out of my mouth embarrassed me. I thought them to be not very masculine and foolish. When it was over, the woman seemed a bit freaked out.
Oh my God, Papi. Are you okay? She asked, truly concerned.
I’m alright. I huffed.
That was wonderful. Wow, Papi. Youre not a virgin. Youre a liar! Why you lie, Papi?
Im not lying! Upset that she thought I was. She giggled at how gullish I was.
I watched her walk into the bathroom with the basin. Through the door, I could see her plant one foot on top of the toilet seat and wiped her self off with a paper towel. I didn’t find this attractive. She filled the basin and returned to clean me off. I got up and took the basin from her and took care of myself.
‘do it for you, Papi.
I wanna do it myself.
We both got dressed. She guided me to the door.
I want to come back.
Oh Papi, this is my last day today. Im sorry.
She watched my face sadden.
Ay Papi, but their are other girls here for you.
This wasnt what I wanted to hear. I didnt know to say. I just felt sad and at twelve years of age, it was almost impossible to separate my emotions from reality.
Okay. I whispered.
She opened the door where my two twenty something year old cousins were waiting for me in the moldy smelling living room on old beaten couches and the other women who worked there. A couple of older, fat dirty men were sitting, waiting for better choices to appear out of one of the occupied rooms. Their eyes lit up when they saw my girl. I felt that all eyes were on me. I took a deep breath and walked to the exit door, wanting to get out as soon as possible.
My cousin Antonio play slapped me in the back of the head. I cringed.
Kid! Now you can hang out with the big boys!
Yeah kid! How does it feel getting your dick wet for the first time? They both laughed at their own crudeness.
On the street, I walked several feet behind them, not wanting to be associated.
I wanna go to the park! I announced. The words couldnt get out my mouth fast enough.
Go ahead. Get the fuck out of here! Antonio told me.
Fucking little punk. Leave us flat cold after what we did for you! Raul chimed in.
I ran up the block as fast I could. I wanted to get as far away from them as possible. I wouldn’t be satisfied until I disappeared around the corner. I forgot about Antonio and Raul and thought about what happen. My chest swelled up and I had a swagger to my walk. I never thought to ask her what her name was, but Isabella sounded nice to me.
Posted on May 02, 2008 at 09:28 PM | Comment (11 comments) | Digg
I’m from the generation that thinks all Hip-Hop/rap music after 1995 sucks, unless you’re Jay-Z, Nas or the Roots. This includes Lil’ Wayne. So when I first heard the lyrics to this “Lollipop” song, “Shawty wanna fuck/Bottles in da club”, I was like what the fuck is this bullshit? And like most pop music, if you hear a song enough times, you get brainwashed into somewhat liking it or at least accepting it for what it is. Even if you never actually verbally admit it to anyone. So I’m going out on a limb to admit I like this song. I like this song a lot. You know why? Because every hot girl under 30 years old who enters my place of work gets excited and sings the lyrics of this song as soon as it plays. It’s like if they can’t help it. So this little homely motherfucker accomplished something that Big, Jay-Z and all the nicest M.C.’s in the world haven’t. He’s empowered hot bitches across the country or at least in Washington Heights to sing that they want to suck some dick in public. That’s more than half the battle. All you have to do as a man is get them alone and produce and it just might go down. Literally. You can’t be mad at that. Unless you have a hot 16 year old daugther at home singing the song. Then I just might be pissed.
Posted on April 21, 2008 at 12:16 PM | Comment (2 comments) | Digg
I was born in San Francisco, California. No homo. I came to New York when I was three old. That’s the year this depressing, but intriguing video was filmed. This is the New York I remember growing up in. There are many who say that New York is losing it’s soul day by day. This may be true. But do we really want to go back to these days? Probably not. Because really.....I rather pop a bottle than pop a gat.
Posted on April 13, 2008 at 07:22 PM | Comment (3 comments) | Permalink | Digg
“Still Swift:King of All B-Boys”
You know what’s amazing about this video? After dancing this hard for over a quarter of a century, my boy, the legendary Prince Ken Swift should have caused so much wear and tear on his joints and ligaments by now, that he should barely be able to walk or even raise his arms above his head. Much less, keep dancing better than ever and better than most. Humans were not built for this. Recognize and respect.
Posted on April 11, 2008 at 10:36 PM | Comment (12 comments) | Permalink | Digg
“Frosty Freeze burner by Rey-One Ibm”
Respect to Rey for showing love all the way from Switzerland. Word!
Posted on April 06, 2008 at 02:53 PM | Comment (11 comments) | Permalink | Digg
I’m sad to learn that a few hours ago, today, April 3rd, 2008 that my boy Frosty Freeze has left us. Over the last decade, I didn’t get many opportunities to see Frosty, but whenever we did, there was always an abundance of love and fond feelings between us.
You see, way before I was down with Doze or West or Poke or Tc5 and Fame City, my sister Pat brought home this dude named Kano Tc5. I was 13 years old when Kano took me to the legendary nightclub, the Roxy where parts of the movie Beat Street was filmed. At the time, the Roxy was Hip-Hop’s mecca. This is where I met my friends Roz-One and Frosty Freeze for the first time, along with Crazy Legs, Dondi, members of the New York City Breakers and just about everybody who was somebody in the mid-80’s. The thing was that I was only a shy, little, dirty Puerto Rican kid and nobody paid much attention to me. Roz-One and Frosty immediately took me under their wing and showed me mad love my first night at the Roxy. Soon afterwards, I got my first job as a messenger in midtown. This was way before the fax machine and e-mail was even thought of. Roz-One and Frosty were also messengers. Frosty for Lee’s Art on 57th street. This is where Roz and I would meet up with Frosty on many a perfect Spring afternoon, neglect our duties to hang out for a little while and smoke some weed. Simple good times that never fail to bring a smile to my face.
I can honestly say that in the twenty six years since I’ve met Frosty, he has shown me nothing but love. He never disrespected once. He was a rare character this way, especially in Hip-Hop in the 80’s where dissing was a way of life. I’m going to miss dude a lot and I know I’m far from alone in this. To have really known Frosty was to love him. Everybody dies. It’s just a part of life that I’ve accepted and become comfortable with. It’s been a very long time since I’ve shed a tear over someone I lost. But I just couldn’t help but shed some for Frosty, even as I write this. We didn’t just lose a Hip-Hop legend and pioneer, we lost a very beautiful soul. Rest in peace, Frosty. I love you.
Posted on April 03, 2008 at 01:25 PM | Comment (5 comments) | Permalink | Digg
Sketching my favorite thing in the world.Who is next?
Posted on March 23, 2008 at 01:05 AM | Comment (1 comments) | Permalink | Digg
Big Mike drove up to the block on his Honda sports bike just as Ices walked out her building. She made him do a double take. He’s seen the girl plenty of time, but never looking so good the way she did. Ices saw him and immediately got nervous. She held her head high and continued to trot across the street in her cheap stilettos.
Yo Shorty! Big Mike called out to her.
Ices knew he was calling her, but continued walking, not being sure what to do. Big Mike gave his bike’s engine a rev and beat her across the street, blocking her path. The kids hanging out in front of the corner store got a laugh off this. To them, Big Mike was the man who could do no wrong. At first Ices was startled, but as soon as Big Mike lifted his helmet off his head, she became mesmerized by his green eyes. Big Mike knew the effect his eyes had on women.
What’s up, Shorty? You’re going to diss me like that?
Oh, I’m sorry. Ices said flustered. I didn’t know you were talking to me.
That’s cool. Where’s the party at? I wanna go.
Ices laughed nervously. There’s no party. I’m just going to the store to pick up some groceries and things for the house.
Dressed like that? I like your style.
Big Mike passed her his spare helmet.
Put this on and get on. I’m taking you for a ride.
I’ve never rode on a motorcycle before.
Then what are you waiting for?
Mike speeded all through Flatbush Avenue, weaving in and out of traffic like a fish. Ices held on tight with her chest pressed firmly against his back. She was scared to death, but at the same time, never had she been so thrilled in her life. Mike popped a wheelie and rode an entire city block on one wheel. Ices shrills turned into giggles. The stars were just right, as was the mood. Mike and Ices were destined to make love that night. There was no denying it.
The following morning Big Mike woke up stressed that he had slept so late. Ices attempted to be affectionate and hug him, but he had no patience for it. It was a different day and a different mood to go with it. His cup was satisfied from last night. There was nothing else Ices could do for him now.
Come on, yo. I gotta go. I don’t got time for this now.
I was just trying to hug you.
Yeah, I know.
Mike put on his baggy jeans and slipped on his Timberlands.
When I’m gonna see you again?
Mike shrugged his shoulders.
I dunno. Later on or tomorrow. Next week maybe.
Next week?
I don’t know. Why you’re stressing me?
And with those words, Ices heart was broken. She questioned her actions. She put out too soon. Just like the rest of them. Still, she hoped that Mike would be soon become her man. She would take good care of him and prove herself worthy.
Later on that afternoon, Shy arrived at her door. Shy was good looking with dark skin and big soulful eyes. Shy was a rare individual in the Brooklyn ghetto. He never sold a drug, not even a nickel bag of weed in his life. He’s had a job from the very first day he received his working papers at 15 years old. Ices thought that Shy was corny and boring because of this, but he served a purpose. Even girls need their ego stroked every now and then, especially when they have their hearts set on unavailable men like Big Mike. Shy was that dude for Ices.
Ices kissed Shy on the cheek at the door, disappointing him once again.
Guess what?
Ices looked at him. She didn’t like guessing games.
U.P.S. has a supervisor position out in Long Branch.
Long Branch? Where’s that?
You never heard of Long Branch? It’s out in Jersey by the shore. It’s little country like.
Well, Ices not knowing what to say…Good luck.
I was wondering if you want to come with me. You know, get out of here and start a new life.
I like it here. There’s nothing wrong with living in Brooklyn. Ices said defensively as she tied up the laces of her Gucci sneakers that had red, green and white stripes.
I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong about living here. But don’t you want a change?
I like it here. I like my job at the hair salon. I don’t want to change anything.
Shy attempted to hold Ices by the waist, but she brushed him off.
What do I have to do to make you like me?
Come Shy, don’t start that crap again. Please.
I’m saying, Ices. When are you going to see the light?
Ices hated when Shy frustrated her.
What light? There is no light! There’s no you and I. Never been. And there never will be.
What the fuck?
Shy stood numb. Ices words stung his heart, but he’s finally got the message. Ices will never be part of his life.
I got to go.
Ices felt guilty and sad for Shy.
Shy! I’m sorry.
Ices gave Shy a hug. This was the first time that Shy knew a hug didn’t mean much between him and Ices. He broke the hug and headed for the door.
I’ll see you around.
Yeah, I’ll see you around, Shy.
The next month, Ices was five days late for her period. She felt sick with nervousness. What would she do if she was pregnant she thought. How would Big Mike take it? He wouldn’t like it, but he’ll never deny his own baby. Mike had a bad reputation, but he wasn’t that cold hearted.
Ices got a pregnancy test from the local pharmacy and just as she feared, the stripe slowly turned red.
That night Ices couldn’t sleep. She didn’t know how or even if she should tell Big Mike. She eventually cried her self to sleep.
Months passed like days and she saw Big Mike many times. Sometimes he was friendly and flirted with her and sometimes he barely acknowledged her. Soon it became obvious that Ices was carrying a child in her. When Big Mike first noticed Ices swollen tummy, he suspected that it might be his, but he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to think about the prospect of diapers and child support and baby’s mama drama. Besides, he told the stupid bitch that she had better not be pregnant. She did that shit on purpose. That’s why she held him when he came that night. Fuck that. This was on her. Big Mike suddenly became unapproachable to Ices.
On the ninth month, Ices went into labor and gave birth to a dark skin baby boy. It was June 4th, making the boy a Gemini just like his father. The kid would prove to be just as complex and difficult to Ices as Big Mike.
It’s been a year since that night with Big Mike and Ices literally ran into him with her bay stroller inside the corner grocery.
Oh hey, Mike.
Big Mike looked at Ices up and down. He didn’t want to be too friendly with her, but she looked to pretty that day.
What’s up, shorty?
Big Mike couldn’t resist looking inside the stroller. He immediately knew it was his. The face and green eyes was undeniable.
Who’s the father?
I think you know.
No, I don’t know. What the fuck I look like a mind reader?
It’s your baby, Mike.
Fuck out of here with that shit, bitch! If that was my son, that kid would look much different.
Mike held out his hand to show Ices.
I’m light skinned. That baby there is dark. Besides, you would have been told me.
I didn’t tell you because I knew that you were going to be like this.
You’re full of shit. Let me pass.
Big Mike walked around the stroller. It would be the last time for a very long time until he would see his son again. Big Mike got locked up on occasion and did 3 and 6 month bits. When he got out, he always hustled in Bed Stuy, but always on a different block.
Ices dated whoever was there to give her a helping hand financially, mostly drug dealers of the cocaine kind. Not only did they help her out with milk and her cell phone bill, but they also provided her with drugs to sniff away her blues. It didn’t take long for Ices to be [known to suck some cock for a few white rocks. It wasn’t unusual for the little boy to see different men night and night and sometimes in the afternoon.
Years have a way of passing, and before Ices knew, her boy wasn’t just physically growing bigger, but also growing bitter and resentful towards her as well. He couldn’t relate to his mother. It was as if they were strangers living in the same house. He didn’t understand the purpose of school, so he never went. Everything he knew, he picked up from the streets. He became very proficient at drug dealing and acting hard. Like his father he liked to fight and had a natural aptitude towards it. By the time he was 15, he carried a loaded 38 in his waist.
Big Mike just got from doing 4 months at C-74 at Riker’s Island. He crashed at his grandmothers and the next day it was back to business as usual. Hydro and Haze replaced coke and crack as the most lucrative drugs to clock on the streets. He heard that there were some young boys making a killing over at Ices block. Big Mike considered him self a real nigga and real niggas did real things like take over money making drug blocks.
Big Mike arrived on the street, strapped and with 50 dime bags of Haze that would he intended to sell that same day. He approached a young thug
You got that Haze.
The young thug studied Mike and nodded. Big Mike thought the boy looked familiar.
That’s what I thought. Check it, young cuz. I’m running this block now, so I’ll see you later.
The young thug stared the man in his eyes. They were green like his.
You serious?
Do I look like a dude who plays?
The young thug didn’t say anything. He just pulled out his gat, cocked it and aimed it at his father.
Damm. Big Mike knew he fucked up. This little punk had the drop on him and he knew it. What the fuck was he going to do?
The young thug never killed a man. He looked into Big Mike’s eyes and they were just like his. It wasn’t just the old man’s eyes. It was everything about his face. It was like he was looking at himself in the mirror, just more matured. The young thug knew he was looking at his father for the very first time. He just didn’t realize that it would be his only and last time. The first bullet rendered him dead. The other five were so unnecessary.
It rained all day on the day of the young thug’s wake. Thugs from all around his way paid their respect. They loved him. He was one of them. He walked like them and he talked like them. He even fought like them. They poured Hennessy from the bottle into the cracked concrete street in Bed-Stuy, where people do or die.
Based on Jay-Z’s “Meet the Parents”
Posted on March 17, 2008 at 08:52 PM | Comment (8 comments) | Permalink | Digg
Thanks for reading my stories. You guys have been a huge source of motivation and confidence for me. However, my time is crazy limited and I have to move on and get cracking on an actual book dealing with the current dramas of my life. My 70 hour a week tattoo apprenticeship in Washington Heights, my dealings with whacky ass Myspace bitches and not being able to figure out if my female roomate is a prostitute or just a nympho. Not as grimey, but potentially just as entertaining.
For now enjoy this video of Styles P, Pappoose and Lupe Fiasco freestyling in a cipher. Lupe kills it.
Posted on March 03, 2008 at 08:38 PM | Comment (19 comments) | Permalink | Digg
Homage to the classic, One line kings of the 80’s. Featuring West One, Cope Two, Dash 167th, Wane, Kaws, Dero, Daze, myself and others. Thanks to Risk for the find.
Posted on February 29, 2008 at 08:55 PM | Comment (3 comments) | Permalink | Digg
It was 2 a.m. on my 14th New Year’s Eve and I was in my room, drawing graffiti pieces in my black book, frustrated that I wasn’t better than what I was. All my friends were celebrating with their family. The festivities in my own home turned out to lame and had died down soon after midnight. My cousin Junior had let himself in my house and peek his head inside my room. He looked fucked up. I knew very well that he had a high tolerance for substances, so I knew he had been going at it hard by the way he looked.
What’s up, kid? What you’re doing? Drawing some graffiti joints?
I was always a bit of an asshole when it came to stupid, obvious questions like this one. I didn’t even bother up to look up to acknowledge him.
Yeah.
Get dressed. We’re going out.
I looked up, curious. My relationship with Junior was confined to the house and our street. We rarely went out the block together.
Where are we going?
We’re going to rob a motherfucker!
What?
You heard me. We’re going to do some vamping, kid! I’m going to teach you how to vamp.
I’ll teach you how to fucking vamp! This dude must really be fucked up! I kept my thoughts to myself.
It’s too cold out. I don’t want to go out.
Get dressed, Junior ordered me with attitude.
Junior was unpredictable and violent. I knew it in my best interest to humor him and go with him. Besides, I was curious to see his method of robbing.
I got dressed. When we stepped outside, I realized just how smashed he was. He was wobbling, on the verge of tripping over his two feet any minute. Not only was it freezing but it was windy as hell. The streets were completely desolate.
There’s nobody out. Let’s go back. I said hopefully
Fuck that, we’re going to find somebody.
Fuck, I thought.
On Saint Nicholas Ave, there was a guy in a trench coat. He looked well groomed with a gift wrapped bottle of liquor in his hand. He didn’t look like much of a fighter. He could have even been gay.
That motherfucker! Junior said, pointing to him. Let’s get him!
Junior ran clumsily towards him. I kept my distance and looked out for any cops. I was amused by Junior’s recklessness and wondered what were going to be the results of this escapade.
My man! My man! Junior called out to his prey. I thought that he was fucking up already. The last thing you want to do is alert your victim until the last possible second that you’re going to rob him, especially in open, public terrain.
The guy turned around and looked confused. Junior took a swipe at him but missed and almost fell. The guy looked scared like he defecated in his slacks.
Oh my God! What did I do? What did I do? He cried out. What a pussy! I thought. He deserved to get robbed.
Gimme your shit, motherfucker!
The guy turned and ran. Junior grabbed his coat. The guy tugged, trying to get Junior off. I watched, leaning against the side of a car, laughing so hard that I got a stitch on my side. Finally the guy tugged hard enough and Junior lost both his grip and balance. The guy help Junior’s fall out by hitting him awkwardly with his bottle on his shoulder.
That motherfucker, I thought. How dare he? I ran after towards him, but he was running too fast and wasn’t worth the effort.
Junior fell right on his chin on the hard, cold, concrete. I winced in sympathy pain for him. What an asshole!, I thought about Junior. I walked up him and crotched low.
June, you okay?
He looked up with a bloody chin. I almost got that motherfucker! Where were you?
I was watching out for the cops. I didn’t want you to get busted. I thought you had him.
Thanks a lot! Man!
I helped Junior up. His chin was dripping dark burgundy blood. I was mesmerized by it.
You need snitches, dude.
Yeah, thanks to you. I’m never taking you robbing again.
I’m sorry. But that had to be the easiest vamp in the world. I don’t know what happen. I said, trying to fuck with his head.
Forget about it.
You should have had him. What happened?
I said forget about it.
We walked back to our block together. He mocked the guy crying. “What did I do? What did I do?” I couldn’t stop laughing. When we reached our building we said good night and wished each other a happy new year. He lived in the basement of our building. Before I entered the main entrance, he called out to me.
Cousin Psych!
What’s up? I asked, already annoyed.
I love you, man.
I love you too. I said, not really believing myself.
To this day I have conflicted feelings towards my cousin Junior. He’s done everything a man can do to fuck up his life and he’s paying the price for it now. He’s never had a job, he survived anyway he knew how, even if it meant stealing from me, and he was a very violent man. You never knew what would set him off and had no problem beating a family member like any stranger he fought on the street, even his mother. He had no sense of morals or values. He’s the last kind of person an average, hard working citizen would want to be associated with for ten minutes, including me.
I judge him harshly and I wonder what does this say about me at times. After all, he is my family. It’s not like I haven’t done my share of fucked up things and just because I’ve worked towards becoming a better person, does that make me better? Why is it that I can find compassion for a complete stranger but can be so ruthless towards someone who shares the same blood as me? I can give myself a migraine trying to figure these questions out. What I do know is that not one person in this world is completely bad and vice versa.
Out of everybody in my family, Junior taught me some of the worst lessons in life. Ironically, he also taught me some of most valuable lessons. He made me aware that there are things that I could be proud of within my family, like my father’s mother cooked in the White House during the F D R administration. My father cooked for Julia Childs and my other grandmother was an accomplished fine artist who has been shown in galleries and museums in San Francisco.
When he spoke of people, he was able to scratch under the surface and offer true insight about them. He was able to tell you something good about the most undesirable person. I found it fascinating to hear him talk about people and was always surprised at how smart he really was. When everybody dismissed me as a weird fucked up kid because I was always in my own head and lacked self expression, he was the first person in my life to be able to fully understand me, sometimes better than I did myself and elaborate on it. And even though he stole from me and beat me at times, he always psychologically empowered me. He always bragged to anyone who would listen how talented and smart I was to the point of making me uncomfortable. He always predicted that I was going to turn out to be someone very special in this world and was always willing to put money on it to anyone who made a doubtful face. When you’re used to being told otherwise, I loved to hear him say that, and he said it with such conviction, I believed it myself. I guess I really do love him for that.
I wish everybody a happy New Year and all the best.
Posted on February 24, 2008 at 02:04 AM | Comment (2 comments) | Permalink | Digg
I was getting my ass kicked to a favorite song, California Dreaming” by the Mama and the Papas, which was blaring out of someone’s apartment in Washington Heights, making the ordeal more surreal than what it needed to be. The crack head beast was straddled on top of me with my hair gripped between his fists, smashing my head onto the marble floor of my building lobby. He wore a dirty sleeveless t-shirt. His shoulder had a crude jailhouse tattoo of a skull with a snakes sticking out the eye holes. The dirty beast’s pupils were dilated and crazed from drugs. He had a teardrop tattooed on the side of one eye. He was fueled with enough adrenalin to kick my ass and three more like me. I could smell that he was fresh out of prison. No matter how much experience one has in the street, you’ll never quite prepare for this kind of thing. I knew that I was in trouble.
The night sucked from the start. I waited for my latest girlfriend of the trimester, Jessica at my gym, Johnny Lats for 40 minutes. Not only did she arrived without acknowledging that she was late, but she was also braless in a white wife beater. Jessica was a fine Dominican and Columbia mix from Flushing, Queens. Her claim to fame was being in a Puff Daddy video for 3 seconds. She was taller than me at 5’8 with flawless caramel skin and stunning photogenic features and a silky, black mane. She dressed in sexy, stylish clothes and had an approachable, easy manner about her. She had brown silver dollar sized nipples that showed through her white top. That summer of 96 or maybe 97, bras seemed to out of vogue, but most women who went for this trend had subtle pink nipples. I didn’t think the look was appropriate for Jessica.
Half the guys at the gym stopped working out to stare at her free tit show. I couldn’t blame them, I would have to. Most knew me, but either didn’t realize she was my girl or most likely, didn’t give a shit. Jess made a show of strutting across the gym floor, working her hips and ass, to use the ladies rest room. When she went inside, a trainer Ludlow shouted over to me.
Yo Vin, that’s you?
I nodded yes, stressed.
What happen to O?
I sliced my straighten hand across my neck and back to cue that Odette was cut off.
That’s too bad. I liked O. But this one is bad as hell. Good luck!
He was right. I needed the luck with this one, especially tonight. I had a low tolerance for disrespect, but I knew that I would be fighting all night if I confronted every man who had something to say to Jessica in my presence. The reality was that Jessica was too fine and demanded too much attention for me. Landing her did wonderful things for my ego in the beginning, but that effect was starting to reverse on me.
I met Jessica at a club three weeks earlier, where we were both there to celebrate a mutual friend’s birthday. I couldn’t take my eyes off her from the second I saw her applying lip gloss and sipping from a flute of Champagne. She was sexy, exotic and in my opinion perfect. She caught me staring and smiled. I liked her dimples and the thin gap between her top front teeth.
At the time, I was with Odette for two years. All we seemed to do was argue most of the time. Sex was almost non existent. We loved each other, but both of us were years immature for our age and came from uneducated, dysfunctional families that taught us nothing but dysfunction and co-dependency for one another. Not that we knew it, but we hardly stood a chance as a couple.
I never got much from school, but enjoyed listening to people who had something to say about life and living it. That’s been the main source of my education. I especially liked intelligent, sophisticated, women who I could learn from. Unfortunately for me, enough of them liked me. From the first sentence that came out of Jessica’s mouth, it was obvious that she had a lot to say.
A stressed out looking guy who was well dressed was trying hard to pick up a bored hot Puerto Rican chick with an empty glass.
I bet you that dude has a very nice looking girlfriend somewhere.
I acknowledged her comment with a look. I thought about it and agreed with a nod.
But instead of taking her out on a Saturday night, he chooses to make his life harder than necessary by trying to pick up some gold digger he doesn’t know and doesn’t care about anything but what’s in his pocket.
I liked how she thought. It had a ring of truth to it.
I mean, isn’t the whole point is being seen with a nice looking girl when you guys are out?
For me, it is.
So where’s your girlfriend.
We’re not speaking.
Really? Whose fault is that?
Neither. We just don’t get along anymore.
Jessica was impressed by my honesty.
So why don’t you break up?
I don’t know. We still love each other and hope that things might get better, but they’re not.
That’s a shame. Are you sure that you two aren’t co-dependent on one another?
What does that mean?
It means that you’re just afraid to let go. No matter how bad things are, you use each other as security blankets.
That sounds just about right.
Is she attractive?
Sometimes I forget how much she is, but she gets a lot of attention from guys. I’m usually too angry with her to be attracted to her.
Since that conversation, Jessica and I pretty much became boyfriend and girlfriend. I broke up with Odette days later, explaining that I was unhappy and needed my space. I wasn’t fooling her. She knew another woman was involved and was bitter about it. All I could think about was Jessica to give her feelings much consideration.
Jessica was perfect and charming until one day she wasn’t. She required a lot of attention, but I was happy to provide all that I could. She liked that I wrote and had creative ambitions of her own. We were extremely sexually compatible and there wasn’t another woman I wanted to sleep with, but her. Our love affair was hot and manic.
At the time I managed Johnny Lats overnight from 12 to 8. At first, she was sad to see me leave for the night and eventually she became resentful about it, and soon after that, I couldn’t do anything right as far as she was concerned. Naturally, I wasn’t motivated to be so accommodating to her needs. Within two months, the honeymoon was over just like that. I found myself thinking about Odette and how she appreciated everything I did for her. As much as she liked to argue, she always had a way of making feel like a man and that I was needed and I missed her for that. I was beginning to realize that I’ve made yet another foolish move in life.
Jessica returned from the rest room complaining that it was dirty and how rude the members were for ogling her breasts. I found myself disliking her more with every interaction. I forgot why I found myself drawn to her in the first place. She was an asshole. She informed me that we had to wait for two of her former roommates and co-workers, Lauren and a girl who called herself the “Siren.” We waited outside the gym where she immediately complained about the way I was dressed. I had on a cream linen button down, dark jeans and a pair of Nike Cortez. She wanted me to dress cooler and trendier. She hated that I ignored most of her complaints, but I knew it was for the better. I was much better at breaking down the worst of people’s psychological make up than I was at any kind of fighting. Sometimes there’s nothing more ruthless than the ugly truth.
Lauren and the Siren arrived 30 minutes later. Jessica looked up to the Siren and talked well about her often, but in person she was not impressive. She was hot as hell with a cartoon like figure that was more Jessica Rabbit than real. She carried herself like she was the hottest shit to walk the streets of New York. She looked mixed, black and some kind of Caucasian. She opened her mouth and a faux, exaggerated Jewish accent immediately turned her into a character. With in five minutes I knew that she was married to a Jewish man fresh out of law school and making 30 thousand as a public defender, which didn’t suit her lifestyle. She also revealed that the rapper Mase kicked it her at a club the night before and that she was thinking about going out with him. I found her disgusting and full of shit. These feelings transferred to Jessica for being guilty out of association. The Siren looked at me up and down with disapproval.
You look alright for a Sunday shopping spree in Soho, but its Saturday night. Where do you think you’re going?
I’m just going with the flow.
Good luck, but I doubt that you’re get in anywhere place we’re going.
I shrugged. Fuck the stupid bitch.
The first stop was a place called El Flamingo, a classy looking place that catered to pretentious low lives and higher end drug dealers. I worked there as a bouncer a few years back and broke up no less than five fights a night. The Siren tended bar part time here. The girls were surprised that I knew half the staff. The owners, two greasy brothers with ponytails were on Jessica and her tits. When they moved on, the bouncers and promoters were on her like flies on shit. She lavished in the attention. I saw the Siren unbuttoned her tight white shirt to reveal more cleavage. I don’t know how it was other nights when they went out, but tonight the Siren couldn’t compete with Jessica. She knew it and didn’t like it. I sat at the bar with Lauren, nursing a Ketel One with cranberry. I attempted to have a conversation with her but it was nearly impossible with her one word answers. I watched Jessica flirt openly with whomever and didn’t like it. It was the first time I ever felt jealousy over a girl and hated it. Lucky for me, the Siren was also jealous and wanted to leave.
The next stop was a hot spot called Life. During the cab ride, the siren wanted to know what I did for a living. Jessica answered for me. He’s a trainer and a wanna-bee screenwriter.
You don’t look like a writer.
What do you write? action movies or something?
No. Drama.
Interesting! Make sure you write a part for me.
Do you like my home girl, Jessica?
I like her.
You fuck her good?
I try my best.
Why do you think I keep him around? Jessica added.
Hey Sweetheart, at least you’re good for something. But you know that doesn’t last long. Girls like us need more. We have a lifestyle that you have to be able to afford. Look at my girl. Movie star material.
Jessica flashed the same smile that got me. She was beautiful indeed.
It takes more than a big dick to keep this girl happy. Get on your job and sell one of those screenplays.
Will do.
You should go home. They’re not going to let you in. Don’t play yourself.
I won’t.
We arrived at Life and as soon as we got out the cab, I saw Big Rich, a bouncer I was friendly with from my gym Johnny Lats. Big Rich approached me, happy to see me and gave me a hug. He was 6’4” and about 300 lbs with a most pleasant personality. He always hustled me for free protein drinks on my shift. I gave him the obligated hard time, but never failed to hook him up. Not because of his size, but because he was so cool, he was hard to say no to. Big Rich also happened to be responsible for my most memorable New Years Eve ever with Odette, where he kept the Champagne flowing towards us all night for us at Lot 61. Big Rich always made sure I got V.I.P. status at any of the clubs he worked at. Unfortunately for me, he moved on to become Missy Elliot’s fulltime bodyguard.
He pulled me inside the velvet rope and asked who I was with. I pointed out Jessica, ignoring the two other bitches, Siren and Lauren. Big Rich cued Jessica over and gave her a V.I.P. band to wear on her wrist.
The Siren waved at Jessica from behind the velvet rope.
What’s up?
Big Rich asked about her. I made a face as I hesitated to ask him to let her and Lauren in. He sensed my dislike for them, letting the in anyway, but without V.I.P. status. This pissed the Siren and Lauren off.
How do you know him anyway? Siren demanded to know.
From the gym.
Figures. He looks like a meat head.
Jessica and I went into V.I.P. which I thought was overrated. It was a place for people who cared about being seen. It was more crowded than the rest of the club with. Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Walberg and David Blaine were hanging out together with a bunch of their boys.
Some jerk-off shouted over to Decaprio. Leo. Love your work, dude!
The actor glared at the dick as he nodded.
Jessica found herself an ideal spot to position herself to pose for Leo, Mark and David.
David Blaine checked her out, but because he was the least famous of the bunch, Jessica looked elsewhere while I observed, thinking what a whore I got myself mixed up with. Had I been with Odette, we would have no doubt been fighting by now, but not because she was sweating some celebrity. My mistake was becoming more and more painfully obvious to me.
Meanwhile, the Siren and Lauren was outside the tinted glass V.I. P. door pleading with security to let them in. The militant guard wasn’t having it. Matt Dillon appeared at the door. The Siren wasted no time chatting him up. Dillon had a stupid grin on his face as he talked to her tits.
One of DiCaprios’ boys pointed out the Outsider to him. Leo told him something in his ear. The kid delivered a message to the bouncer and Matt Dillon was promptly denied entrance. It looked like he said… “Don’t you know who the fuck I am?” but security couldn’t have given a shit. The actor disappeared and the Siren and Lauren followed behind.
I soon got both bored and disgusted of Jessica. I wondered what kind of person leaves their friends behind to hang out in a pretentious V.I.P area. People like Jessica, I guess. I left V.I.P. and wandered the club. There were loads of beautiful people everywhere. A blond girl wearing angel wings on her back and a flimsy white short dress with an extra low neckline approached me.
You’re hot.
No, I’m fine. Are you hot?
No. I mean you. You’re hot!
Oh. I thought something different.
She caressed my chest.
You work out?
I shrugged yes, bored of the lame pick up line.
I like Latinos.
I didn’t like blondes. I kept my thoughts to myself.
That’s good to know.
You have any coke?
Sorry. You’re ten minutes too late. I had a bunch. I lied, to fuck with her.
It was nice to meeting you! The blonde angel drifted away.
I spied Matt Dillon going into the men’s room with both the Siren and Lauren. I bet that they were going to suck his dick. I waited a couple of minutes and entered the rest room to investigate.
The three were in a stall together. I could make out that the Siren was in a squat position. I wondered what Lauren was doing. Maybe he was fingering her. Damm! Matt Dillon had it good.
I exited the lavatory and saw a pretty red head. I approached her.
Excuse me, but do you know who I am?
The red head shook her head no.
You don’t?
No. I don’t know who you are. Who are you?
If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you. I’ve never been so insulted.
I walked away. The red head called for me to come back. I looked back at her.
Forget it. You blew it. I said, trying not to laugh at my own joke.
I went back into V.I.P. to let Jessica know I wanted to go home.
I don’t.
Well, I’ll see you later or tomorrow then. I’m out. This shit is whack.
It’s whack because you’re whack.
Whatever! Bye.
You’re leaving without me?
Yeah.
I knew Jessica was depended on me for a cab ride to either her house or my house.
You asshole! Wait for me. Where’s Lauren and the Siren?
Probably sucking some dick somewhere.
Don’t talk about my friends like that.
Let’s go!
It’s not even 3:30. This is fucked up.
You could stay.
By myself? I came with you.
As if that would stop you, if something better came your way?
You have a real low self esteem. Do you know that?
Save your amateur psychology for somebody that’ll go for that bullshit.
Those are pretty big words for somebody who didn’t go to school.
I must be a genius then.
I doubt that.
Lauren and the Siren were waiting outside. Siren couldn’t wait to see Jessica.
Do you believe that Matt Dillon wanted Lauren and me to suck his dick in the bathroom stall? He is so fucking gross! I bet he has a little one.
Jessica informed the two hookers that she was going home.
Can you drop me off?
Jessica answered for me. Sure. Not a problem.
Where do you live? I smartly asked.
On 2nd street and D. The opposite direction of where Jessica and I were heading.
Its better that you get your own cab.
You can’t take me?
I can, but I’m not.
Jessica sweetheart, the next time I see you, I hope you have a new boyfriend. Get rid of this thug and find yourself a real gentleman.
Have a good night ladies. Great to meet you. By the way, your knees are dirty.
I hailed a cab and opened the down for a brooding Jessica.
You have no right talking to my friends like that.
I ignored her. She hated that.
Fucking 3:30 and going home on a Saturday night. This sucks big time. Jessica didn’t stop complaining for the entire cab ride home. The cab dropped us off. My street was unusually desolate for a hot July night.
You wanna do some coke?
It’s almost four!
So!
I want to go to sleep.
You don’t want to fuck?
I don’t need coke to fuck.
But I need coke to swallow.
I thought you didn’t do that.
I’m in a rare mood. Take advantage.
Nah. I’m okay.
I’m not going upstairs unless you get some coke.
Are you crazy?
No. It’s bad enough you dissed my best friends and fucked up my night. The least you could do is get some coke.
Get the fuck out of here.
I’ll let you fuck me in the ass.
What a whore, I thought.
Still no!
I went to unlock my building’s front door, but it was broken open. I went inside and waited a few minutes by the staircase. Jessica wasn’t coming in.
I went back outside.
I’m serious. I’m not going anywhere until you get some coke.
We were both distracted by a crack head searching through some trash across the street.
That’s a strong looking crack head, she commented.
He must be fresh out the joint.
You would know!
I rolled my eyes at the comment.
Meet me upstairs. I gave Jessica my house keys and walked up the block to Saint Nicholas to cop some blow.
The usual guys weren’t out. I spoke to a Dominican guy to ask where they were at. He informed me that they went home early but for ten bucks he would take me to a guy who had good shit. The Dominican asked me for the money.
Come on, Poppi! What do I look like to you?
Okay, come with me.
He took me to a shady coke apartment. The transaction took less than five minutes and I hurried back to my building with a gram. As soon as I entered, I heard Jessica’s muffled cries over the Mamas and the Papas. I rushed towards the staircase and the muscular crack head had her, pinned to the floor with her breasts fully exposed from her torn wife beater. He had one hand wrapped over her mouth and he was groping her crotch with the other. He looked up at me as I kicked him with everything I had in the ribs. This knocked him over, but he quickly recuperated and got up and charged at me. He was fast and within seconds he dipped down and snatched my legs from underneath me, slamming me on my back. He pulled my own move on me and now I knew why it was so effective.
Jessica stood screaming.
Go to my house! I yelled at her. I didn’t need to worry about her while dealing with this beast. She stood screaming.
Go!
The Crack head grabbed me by the locks of my hair and started slamming my head on the marble floor over and over. I felt that with every bang, my head was going to split open on the next.
You want to be a hero? This is what happens to heroes! You punk bitch!
Jessica was crying.
Go home, you fucking bitch! I yelled at her.
The Crack head paused on what he was doing and looked at Jessica.
Listen to your bitch! I’m going put my dick in you as soon as I’m finished with this punk.
That’s what I was afraid of. Jessica only cried louder.
Look at those luscious tits! The Crack head announced. I’m going to suck your titties.
The Crack head was waving one hand frenetically close to me as he lusted on Jessica between beating my ass. I saw my opportunity.
Motherfucker!
I grabbed his middle and index finger with one hand and his ring finger and his pinkie with the other hand. With all my might, I split them like a wish bone. The Crack head screamed like nothing I ever heard in my life. He quickly got off of me and was going into convulsions on the floor. I got up and checked the back of my head for blood. There was none. I looked at Jessica.
Go the fuck to my house NOW!
I kicked the Crack head in the head and I kicked him again and again.
Okay, okay! He pleaded.
Okay nothing, you bastard!
The Crack head lay helpless. My guess was that he was in shock. I grabbed him by his feet and dragged him towards out my building. He grabbed on to the door with his good hand. I dropped his legs to stomp on his hand. He quickly let go. I finished dragging him to the street.
He was face down on the concrete.
What did my girl do to you?
He didn’t answer. Jessica came outside with her arms wrapped around her breasts.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Go upstairs. I put my attention back on the Crack head.
Answer me! A headache was already coming on. He didn’t say anything. You fucked with the wrong motherfucker, asshole!
I grabbed the Crack head by his hair and I grated his face against the concrete ground. Jessica saw the flesh peeling off his face and screamed. I looked to see the fear in her eyes and stopped.
You’re an animal!
The Crack head’s newly disfigured face was hard to look at. I got up and kicked it one last time. I dragged him between two parked cars and left him there.
You killed him! Jessica told me in tears.
So! He was going to kill me then fuck you and kill you.
No he wasn’t!
You think he was going to leave you alive to I.D. him?
You killed him!
I checked his pulse. He was breathing. Faintly, but he was breathing.
Nah, he’s okay.
You liar! I don’t think I can be with you anymore.
We were going that direction anyway. I’m sorry this happen tonight.
Me too. All because you didn’t want to hang out longer. It’s your fault. Now a man is dead.
He’s not fucking dead!
I kicked him and he grunted.
See?
You’re sick.
I unbuttoned my shirt and gave it to her.
Here cover up yourself already and let me walk you to a cab.
I can’t go home like this.
You have no choice.
Fine.
We walked up to Saint Nicholas and I flagged a Lincoln Towncar.
How much to Flushing?
Sixty.
I gave Jessica a dirty look and gave her three twenties.
Call me when you get home, so I know you got home safe.
So this is it?
This is it.
You’re going to regret this.
Maybe I will.
I walked away.
When I got to my building, the Crack head was no longer between the two cars I left him at. I looked down the next block and saw him staggering on his way somewhere.
Bastard!
I went to my apartment and showered. My body was already aching. I begun to notice bruises and cuts I didn’t realize I had. I lay in bed and called Odette.
She answered, in a sweet, sleepy voice.
What’s up, Boo-Boo? Are you okay?
Yo, you don’t know what happen tonight?
What? Tell me!
I almost killed this crack head outside my building.
Get the fuck out of here! What happened?
He was trying to rape Jessica.
I told you that bimbo was nothing but trouble, but you never want to listen to Odette. You keep on going out with those educated bitches.
The bitch got mad at me. We broke up.
For beating up the crack head?
Yeah!
What? Nigga, you better kill any motherfucker that ever tries to rape me.
I liked this about Odette.
Thank you, Boo-Boo.
For what?
Just for being you.
I tried to tell you, motherfucker! But you never listen!
I know.
Posted on February 19, 2008 at 12:52 AM | Comment (8 comments) | Permalink | Digg
Being dead sucks. It’s so unfair. Talk about a jip. It’s not all that much different than being alive, except that you’re not in your physical form, therefore lacking physical sensations. I’ll never get to taste a steak again or for that matter, a pint of Stella Atrois or fuck it, a pint of Haagan Daz Vannila Swiss Almond. I’ll never enjoy another orgasm again or the feel of my dick in a nice, tight, wet vagina. The only good thing is that I’ll never feel pain again, but I never minded physical pain much. What I did mind was emotional pain and that doesn’t go away when you die. It’s part of a package deal with your spirit. How fucked is that? So here I am, dead as a nail, never to eat another hamburger again or recieve an excellent blowjob but I have to linger around, depressed. Who ever made this system up, really knew how to fuck people of their mojo.
Here I am stuck on Saint Nicholas Avenue. My killer ran into 182nd street towards Wadsworth. I couldn’t bother to investigate any further. It’s not like I could do anything about it anyway. Yeah, I’m a ghost, but I’m not like a ghost in the movies where I can haunt his ass and drive him crazy. You see, there’s no glory in this death shit whatsoever. It’s better to stay alive as long as possible. Even an 80 year old man can pay a prostitute to play with his balls or something. Me… nothing and I really do mean nothing.
It’s amazing how many people have walked past my corpse, stared at it and kept on walking. It’s been 45 minutes since my death and I’m, er..my body is still laying there. Ugly as fuck too. I don’t make a very good looking dead person. Having my brains blown out doesn’t help. I wonder how are my friends going to find out about this? Poor Odette. She’ll probably take it the worst. I can see her crying for weeks now. Isaac will definitely be extremely upset. Eddie too. Everybody else, I think they’ll get over it pretty quick. At least I’ve left most people an arsenal of funny stories to get a good laugh off of.
I can see Eddie now telling Andy or Shey about the time we snuck into High Bridge pool at night and I smoked angel dust and was convinced I was drowning in the wading section of the pool.
When you die, you don’t get a “how to” manual to tell you what to do, but somehow you know what’s up. I could linger around, loitering like an asshole and hope that I come across someone or something being born and reincarnate myself into that physical form and then I wouldn’t be so bored. Maybe I should go to Central Park and look for a bird’s nest and come back as a bird. With my luck, I’ll probably pick a pigeon’s nest, mistaking it for something glorious like a hawk’s nest. That wouldn’t be so hot.
The other thing I could do is choose somebody to protect over. I mean there’s only so much protecting I can do, but I can warn them of any potential danger that lies ahead. I know just who I would want to protect. Odette. That means I would have to see her fucking other dudes. What the hell? I’ve never been the jealous type. Doesn’t make sense to start now?
Posted on February 11, 2008 at 04:28 PM | Comment (6 comments) | Permalink | Digg
It’s one a.m. in the morning and even though it’s August, I can feel the chill of Autumn coming on. The night sky is clear and beautiful as is the artitecture of the buildings above me. But at street level, it’s a different story. This is Washington Heights and I’m walking through Saint Nicholas Avenue and the streets are dirty with excessive litter. It makes me sad.
On the opposite end of this block is 184th street and a Dominican man with skin the color of caramel walks my way. He is young and judging by his walk, he is trouble. He has a gun concealed on his person somewhere. Eventhough I can’t see it, I know it. I don’t know how I know. I just do.
Even though the street is big enough for many people, we walk towards each other’s path. I know I should walk out of the way to avoid problems but my ego says “fuck that!” The man and I are close enough so that we can see each other’s faces. He has souless, black, shiny eyes. We make eye contact and are both aware that our shoulders are going to collide. I brace myself for the impact as I knock past him, pushing him back with ease. My ego is momentarily satisfied.
“Que Vina, loco?” I hear him say to me. I turn and the man looks pissed.
“You got beef, homeboy?” He asks with a thick accent. I watch him reach behind his waist. My heart skips a beat and then races. He pulls out a shiny piece of black metal. “I knew it.” I tell myself regretfully. I stare at the gun. It’s small. I can’t tell if it’s a 22 or a 25 calibre.
“What’s up now?” The Dominican asks with the knowledge that he holds my life in his hands.
“Nothing’s up.” I tell him.
“That’s what I thought, bitch!” I watch him squeeze the trigger. The bullet is so fast that I don’t feel it enter my stomach. It takes seconds for me to feel heat and then the bullet ripping through my intestines. I see sparks of white light and feel unbearable pain. I scream as the bullet richochets inside of my person, smashing through bones and through some of my vital organs. I feel light headed. I can’t believe this is happening. Please let me wake up from a bad dream, but I don’t wake. My legs weaken and my knees buckle. I falls backwards on to the hard concrete. I know that I am going to die. I close my eyes as I scream uncontrollably in agony.
I see myself as a three year old on my tricycle. I see Elsie and Ernie smiling at me with loving eyes. I see Alfred laughing. I see Patricia teaching me to dance the hustle in the living room. I see my Titi Olga smiling at me. I see Sandra and I see Eddie and I drawing graffiti in the back of 6th grade Spanish class. I see John Bonnila and I skateboarding down Snake hill. I see myself smoking blunts with Nel-One and Eps in the back of 157th train station. I see Juice laughing at one of my stories. I see Seen smirking. I see Poke drawing in my blackbook. I see the first time I met West at 145th street with Zear and Zame. I see Laura and I facing eachother in bed during the summer of 1988. I see Blust and Brue dee-jaying. I see Dash telling me, “Yo beee, you’re bugging!” I see Odette loving me unconditionally. I see my mother smiling. As well as my sisters Rosie and Stephanie. I see Victor, Joyce, Nikki, Arthur and I dancing at Sway. I see Kristin Kelly smiling at me, calling me honey. I see Andy and Jon at the shop.
I open my eyes. I miss all these people so much already. I love them so much. Do they know that? I cry from both pain and the sadness of my death.
My killer is looking down at me, laughing at me. He calls me a bitch ass motherfucker. And even though my throat and nose is flooded with blood, I manage to get in my last words.
“That’s why your mother sucked my dick, faggot!”
He aims his gun to my head. I close my eyes tight. I feel my head slam back onto cold, hard concrete. Even though I am dead, my heart has a few weak beats left in it. My organs starts to shut down. My blood turns cold. I see a vision of my father who I never met because of his own suicidal death. I want to hug him but I can’t. He smiles and shakes his head with sad eyes.
“I tried to tell you, son.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry. Can’t you do something? Please!”
My body relieves itself for the last time and then I see nothing. I hear nothing. I feel nothing.
Posted on February 07, 2008 at 07:11 PM | Comment (18 comments) | Permalink | Digg
“Did I do Something Good or Bad?”
Last night as I was walking down the hill on my block, a Dominoes pizza delivery guy sped by me on his bike, skimming me by inches. I wanted to yell what the fuck? But since I’ve been dealing with the flu, I needed to conserve my energy.
A little bit farther down the block, there was also a woman and her little boy walking. The little boy was actually running awkwardly down my block, not yet in total control of his movements. The reckless delivery guy just missed the kid by inches as well. I wondered if was he stupid or just didn’t give a fuck?
As I watched him park and chain his bike in front of my building, I immediately grinned and took out my keys and fumbled with my “Supreme” all in one “Swiss army” utility thingy that has all sorts of useful shit, including a little knife.
As soon as he stepped foot inside my building, I punctured both his front and back tires and put my palm over it so I can enjoy feeling the breeze of his air leaking out. His tires were finished.
I sat on my stoop and waited for him to come out to discover his misfortune. He flipped in Spanish and said something to me that seemed like a question. I’m not well versed in the lanquage, so I just shrugged my shoulders and said “I dunno.” I wished him a good night and went inside.
I felt a tinge of guilt for a few minutes. I probably fucked up his lively hood for a day or two. Maybe he had kids to feed, who kows what his personal situation is? But then I thought… you know what? Fuck that shit! I might have also saved someone from getting hit that night. I guess it’s all on how you look at it. I know that I have a talent for spinning things so that it justifies my actions. Don’t let me fool you. But just out of a natural child-like curiousty...I wonder how do you see it?
Posted on February 05, 2008 at 04:25 PM | Comment (10 comments) | Permalink | Digg
I arrived at my door. It was slightly cracked open. I knew from prior experience that this was not a good sign. I felt like throwing up. I pushed the door open and peeked in. The apartment was quiet.
“Please God, let her be passed out.” I prayed to myself about my alcoholic aunt Elsie.
I slowly made my way through the corridor. As I approached the kitchen hallway, my heart rate went berserk. I was only in the third grade and I was already having panic attacks. The moment of truth was coming up. I looked inside the kitchen and there she was staring at me. Her hair unruly, all over the place, wearing the same floral pattern housedress she wore daily with a cigerette in one hand and a tall glass of Barcardi dark in the other. On top of the table was a half gallon bottle, a thick suede/leather belt and a large plastic bottle of rubbing alcohol.
“Oh my God.” My heart sunk and I wanted to cry on the spot.
“Take of your clothes and go in the bath tub.” She commanded with evil arched eyebrows.
“But he hit me first. What do you want me to do?”
“Shut up and do as I tell you.”
“Nooooo. Please, Mom...please. I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t my fault. I promise!”
“Don’t make me tell you again, Vincent. Taking off your fucking clothes...NOW!!!”
Elsie banged her fists on the table. I froze not knowing what to do. I thought about making a bolt for the door but it was raining out and the last time I ran away I almost froze to death overnight in the park. But still, I knew what was coming. I suddenly ran for her bedroom and crawled underneath her bed.
“You motherfucker!” I heard her scream from the kitchen. She was coming my way. I held my breathe, hoping she could not detect me.
“You think I’m stupid? You have to wake up pretty early in the morning to fool me!” She yelled from too near by.
“Please God...please...don’t let her get me.”
Suddenly the bed moved from above me. I wasn’t covered by darkness anymore. I snap of the belt unexpectedly hit my back and stung me. I screamed at the top of my lungs, hoping that maybe one of my next door neighbors would knock on the door to investigate and save me.
I got up and climbed over the bed, pushing past Elsie. She grabbed one of my arms but I managed to yank away. I thought about running into my cousin Alfred’s room but it was too small. I ran into the living room which was spacious enough to dart around her and escape her. Even with stomach Cancer and being drunk, Elsie was strong but she wasn’t fast.
“How dare you? Get into the bathroom now!”
“Noooo. Please. I’m begging you.”
“You should have thought about before you fought. You like to fight?”
“He was attacking me.”
Elsie lunged at me and I dipped her and then I heard the worst thing that I could have heard that moment. My uncle Ernie walked into the apartment.
“Ma, I’m home.”
“Help me, Pa. Vincent pushed me.:”
Ernie entered the living room looking like a wet alley cat. I was fucked. I tried to dart past them, but Ernie caught me me by my shirt and grabbed me by a lock of my hair. Elsie whipped me with the buckle of the belt about five times nonstop, causing red welts and broken skin. I screamed uncontrollably.
“Shut the fuck up!” They screamed at me as they hit me more times with the belt. I went through this at least three to four times a week but I could never get used to it. The two dragged me kicking and screaming into the bathroom. Ernie tore off my clothes as Elsie turned on the shower. I was pushed in. The water stung me. My little body was going into convulsuions. My nervous system was out of whack. Elsie whipped me no less than thirty times before she shut off the water. She left the bathroom. Ernie stayed watching me. He didn’t say anything. I glared at him with hate.
“You want more?”
“Leave me alone!”
Elsie returned with the bottle of rubbing alcohol. She slowly poured the whole bottle all over me. I fliped and flopped like a fish out of water and as much and loud as I screamed, nobody came to save me. Nobody cared. Not even God.
“Go to bed. No dinner.” Elsie ordered. No dinner was the least of my problems. In bed, I cried for hours and hours. I was in hell and all I wanted to do was not be alive.
It was Friday. Most kids my age love Fridays, but I hated them. It meant that I couldn’t escape Elsie and Ernie for not even ten minutes. I fell asleep thinking about the day and wondering what have I done to deserve this life. I felt very sorry for myself.
That morning Kendal Calvin was picking on me all morning in class. Kendal was a black kid with what seemed like hundreds of little nicks and scars all over his face. He was a tough kid and even in third grade, he was already muscular. I sat with the nerds and he picked on all of us, but because I had a speech impediment, he especially loved to pick on me. He used to love to fake punches and make me flinch. Still, he was no match for the terror I faced at home. But on this particular day, he was out of control.
I went to the dumpsters by the school yard to find the new born Calico kittens that I visited daily since they were born dead with broken necks. Before I could fully register what someone had done to my pets, Kendal had greeted me.
“I killed those motherfuckers, pussy. What are you gonna do about it.”
I just stared at him in shock, not knowing what to say or how to respond. He suddenly stompped on one of the kittens head. I closed my eyes at the sight and shoved him. Kendal started punching me. I fought back but not well. Some teachers came and broke up the fight.
During class that morning, kendall assualted me with spitballs nonstop while sending notes that he was going to fuck me up at lunch. For some reason lunch felt like it came faster than usual.
Kendal ran ahead of everybody. I was the last kid to leave the classroom with my two nerd friends, an Asian boy and a fat white firl with pig tails.
“Don’t worry, Vincent. Everything will be okay.” The white girl tried to assure me. I looked at her like she was retarded. Everything was not going to be okay.
Going down the staircase to the lunchroom, some kids ran back up to warn me that Kendal was waiting for me around the corner on the next staircase. I was sick and tired of it all. Ready, I snuck around the corner and there was Kendal. His face evil. I kicked him as hard as I could and he fell backwards down the stairs. He didn’t finished tumbling to the bottem before I was kicking and stomping him with all my might, crazed, letting out years of rage as I screamed at the top of my lungs. The only thing Kendal was able to do was curl up into a ball. I had no intentions of stopping. The other kids cheered me on, making me want to kick and stomp Kendal harder and harder. The motherfucker. Some teachers came and pulled me off him. They knew me and was shocked at my behavior. I was normally a pretty passive kid until this incident. I cried in anger. I wanted to kill the boy.
Both Kendal and I were escorted to the principal, Mr. Kaplan’s office. Both our parents were called and warned that any further fighting would result in suspension. I glared at Kendal. I knew very well what was coming to me once I got home and it was all his fault.
Throughout the weekend I was beaten several times, but I lived through it. Monday morning came and as soon as my school bus arrived, Barbabra the fat blond dyke bus driver with buck teeth informed me that Kendal died over the weekend.
“For real?” I asked, not believing her.
“Yes Mayta. The boy is dead. His own friggin’ mother killed him.”
“For real?” I repeated, still not believing her.
“For fucking real!” Barbabra yelled at me. “He’s dead.”
“Oh shit.”
I walked towards the back of the bus, not knowing quite how to feel. Unaware that certein emotions had shut down on me for the rest of my life.
Posted on January 31, 2008 at 07:15 PM | Comment (10 comments) | Permalink | Digg