“Crazy”

"I don’t know why you write Psycho. You’re not that crazy.” My next door neighbor’s nephew, a guy who wrote Penn told me.
“Crazier than you!”
“Yeah...what’s the craziest thing you ever done?”
“I don’t know. Vamped somebody?”
“Everybody vamps toys! That ain’t shit.”
“Oh.”
“You ever killed anybody?”
“Hells yeah, I lied, I’ve killed mad people. You don’t know.”
“You’re a fucking lier!”
“No really. I have.”
“Okay then, let’s kill somebody tonight!” Penn challenged me.
“Well, er...I’m not really in the moodfor that right now.”
“I knew you were full of shit!”
“Who the hell are you? I don’t have to prove shit to you. I’m Psycho Tc5!”
“You ain’t down with the Five.”
“Am too.”
“Who put you down?”
“Seen.”
“Seen’s not even down with the Five. He has his own crew.”
“You stupid fuck. That’s a different Seen. I’m talking about the real Seen!”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Whatever. I’m bored. Let’s rack some forties.”

I picked up an empty milk crate along Broadway.

“What do you need that for?”
“Watch and learn. We’re gonna see who’s crazy now” I walked into a 24 hour bodega. The owner was snoring behind the counter. I walked to the beer fridge and stocked 12 bottles of Colt 45
into my milk crate and calmly walked out.

“That wasn’t so crazy. The nigga in the store was sleeping.” Penn told me.
“I still did it. what did you do?”
“Whatver.”
“Whatever. I got 6 forties for each of us. Whoever finishes last has to tag their name and I’m a homo!”
“Bet!”

I downed half a 40 and belly already started to swell and feel tight. What a stupid bet I thought to myself.

Penn and I barely finished our beer before we started urinating into the empty ones. I felt both drunk and sick. I wanted to get out the bet but not give Penn the satisfaction of me giving up.
A toothless crack head came up to us, asking us for money.

“I don’t have money, but I have plenty of beer. It’s a little warm though.

“Gimme that shit.” The crackhead cackled.
“Here, knock yourself out!” I gave her a piss filled bottle. She immediately took a large swig and just as fast, spit the liquid right back out. Penn laughed uncontrollablly and dropped his forty on the ground.
“You lose!” I informed him.
He was too busy laughing at the crackhead to care.

“You motherfuckers! I hope you rot in hell.” The crackhead cussed us.
“You want some more?” I asked as I unzipped my jeans and peed in her face, laughing. This made Penn laugh more.

“You see...I’m a crazy motherfucker!’ I announced, impressed by my own stupidity.

The crackhead gave me the finger and ran off into the night in search of drugs. I drank my last beer.

“Yo, yo, yo....I know...let’s knock somebody out!”

I was 15 years old and was desperately trying to develop a knock-out punch. So far, I had zero knock-outs, but I was commited. A preppy looking white guy in a trench coat was walking our direction next to the buildings. He looked a little drunk himself.

“Check this out!”

I waited for the man to get close enough before Iran up on him and threw a sloppy punch at him. I guess I was a little slow because the man jumped back out of the way of my punch and my fist landed on the brick wall next to him. I saw white sparks everywhere and screamed, “Oh my fucking God!” I dropped to the ground in agony. I watched Penn double over in laughter.

“Don’t laugh!!!” I yelled at him. Then all of a sudden, the white guy kicked me in my stomach. I felt all the beer swish around inside of me and I felt nauseated.

“I’m going to kill you!”
“I don’t think so!” The white guy said in a funny voice that made it obvious that he was gay. He kicked me in the gut again. This time harder. As I got up, I threw up. Penn yoked the guy up from behind. Without thinking, I immediate punched him in the middle of his face with my bad hand. More white sparks. I told myself that I was never going to hit anybody again.

“Police! Police!” The man shrilled ina high pitched voice.
“Yo, let’s be out!”

Penn and I ran a few blocks, turning at every corner. We stopped, huffing and puffing.

“If I didn’t save you, that homo would have fucked you up.”
“That’s not true. I was regrouping, getting ready to fuck him up. You just jumped in too fast!”
“You lucky I did.”

Penn busted out a mop and started tagging on a phone booth.

“Don’t forget to write that you’re a homo.”
“Only if you write I got fucked up by a homo!”
“Nobody would ever believe that.”
“Yo, I just thought of something. Why don’t you ever have a marker or can on you? What kind of writer are you anyway?”
“I would be way, way to famous if I was actually up. If I take one tag, mad niggas come up to me jocking me. I get like a hundred phone calls a day. I can’t afford any more fame.”
“You’re not even a fraction as up as I am” Penn boasted.
“And you’re still not as famous as me. So imagine.”
“You really believe in your own bullshit. Don’t you?”
“It’s not that I believe in it. It’s just that it’s true!”
“You know what? You really are crazy!”

I smirked with satisfaction.

Posted on November 13, 2007 at 08:44 AM   |   Previous Entry   |   Next Entry   |   Entry List   |   Email Entry   |    Digg

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