Hello My Name Is...
Mad Doggin Me?
November 5 months prior 2:45 pm.
William would always come home from school by the public bus system. He got to sit in the back, where all the cool people sat and talk about life on the streets. Him and his boys would laugh and joke, occasionally throwing stuff at the other kids on the bus. They liked to target the quiet odd kids, like the emos, nerds, and goths. They knew these kids would never step up and fight back, easy prey. Sometimes, one of the victims would stand up, or say something. But it rarely ever came to blows, William and his crew just had to act meaner and tougher to shut that punk ass bitch up.
When he got to his stop, William would part ways with his school mates, to walk home. He'd pass townhouse after townhouse, walking past kids playing outside. They would play jump rope, hopscotch, riding bikes, and tag. Shoes were strung up in the power lines, broke down cars sitting dead and forgotten on the curbs. Young bloods trying to act tough and hard, sat around street corners or power transformers, smoking fugs and energy drinks. In the hood, everyone knew everyone and their entire families. If you didn't belong in the hood, you got an ass beating. The police rarely went on patrol in the hoods, it was enemy territory and no mans land.
William would go inside his grandmas house, put his bag down, and give his grandma a kiss and a hug. She was the one woman he respected most in his life, for raising a child at her age wasn't easy. At times, he felt like he was taking care of her just as much as she took care of him. Today though, she was sleeping soundly to Jerry Springer.
William grabbed his other bag, and stepped out to the "Block". It was the street corner that marked the end of the "Dub Street Mafia's" territory. Across the street was the beginning of the "Cider Hill Gangstas" hood. Both sides weren't actively at war with each other, but seeing each other on either sides of the street made them nervous.
"Wassup playa?" Pugs greeted, holding out a hand for daps.
"Chillin like a mothafuckin villain dawg, sup wit you?" William replied, accepting the dap.
"I'm straight! Yo dude, check it aight? Smitty said he got some real good shit last night aight? Ole boy Saul tried it out, dawg...I'm tellin you! That shit is on fire!" Pugs said excitedly, handing William a forty ounce malt liquor in a brown paper bag.
William accepted it and took a long swig, a little annoyed with the warmth of the brew.
"Aight so get his dawg, I got me some bangin sticky in my bag, right here, right now!"
Pugs smiled, his one gold tooth glinting in the afternoon sun, "Fo real? Is it straight, cause you know how I do aight? No bullshit, no weak ass shit, only the best for the best aight?"
William unzipped his bag and pulled out a freezer bag full of weed. Pugs snatched it and looked it over.
"Holy shit muthafucka! This shit is lookin right! Damn pimp, where'd you get this shit from? Don't tell me it was from that bitch Keon?!" he said as he opened the bag and took a sniff.
"What?! Oh hell naw dawg! You know I never do business with punk asses and chicken heads! Sheeit, gimme my muthafuckin shit man! You buyin or not?" William said, taking back the bag.
"I dunno fool, I gotta play it like Simple Simon man! I gots to sample the ware, ye naw what I mean?"
William nodded, reaching back into his bag and pulling out an already rolled blunt, "Here man, check it! Already cleaned, destemmed, deseeded, all of it! That shit is off the chain, I'm tellin you man, I'm fuckin tellin you!"
Pugs took the blunt and looked it over, he gave it a long hard sniff, "Tell you what man, can you front me this blunt?"
William snatched it back from him, "Yo crazy nigga?! This ain't so cheap ass weak shit you get from all those other niggas man! This shit is straight from Columbia! It wasn't cheap! Sides, this bag got fronted to me from my boy Mars. I gotta pay his ass back with what I make, so I gotta tax the fuck out of my shit, or I ain't gonna make any mo money fo myself aight?"
Pugs shrugged, "Suit yourself playa, I'm just sayin, I could get yo name out on the streets. Tellin other bloods what's goin down on our block! Next thing you know, you got all the illest muthafucka's bangin on yo door, wanting a piece of the action!"
William thought this over in his head. It was a risk, trying to compete with mainstream hustlers and dealers. Those guys got jealous of the competition, and drive bys were common in the summer, when the new weed season kicked in.
"Aight, check it. We sit here, and smoke this blunt, so you can see jus how ballin this shit really is aight? And if it get;s yo ass all fucked up, get my name out on the street. You help me make some cheese, I'll cut you in on the profit aight?"
William knew this was a risk. He had to pay back Mars the money he owed, he had to make himself some money to buy more weed, and now he might have to go and pay his boy Pugs. But William figured he could tack on a little extra tax to his product, since it was a step below purple haze, and a step above sour diesel grades.
Pugs smiled, and they shook hands, "You got it my man! You got it!"
William would always come home from school by the public bus system. He got to sit in the back, where all the cool people sat and talk about life on the streets. Him and his boys would laugh and joke, occasionally throwing stuff at the other kids on the bus. They liked to target the quiet odd kids, like the emos, nerds, and goths. They knew these kids would never step up and fight back, easy prey. Sometimes, one of the victims would stand up, or say something. But it rarely ever came to blows, William and his crew just had to act meaner and tougher to shut that punk ass bitch up.
When he got to his stop, William would part ways with his school mates, to walk home. He'd pass townhouse after townhouse, walking past kids playing outside. They would play jump rope, hopscotch, riding bikes, and tag. Shoes were strung up in the power lines, broke down cars sitting dead and forgotten on the curbs. Young bloods trying to act tough and hard, sat around street corners or power transformers, smoking fugs and energy drinks. In the hood, everyone knew everyone and their entire families. If you didn't belong in the hood, you got an ass beating. The police rarely went on patrol in the hoods, it was enemy territory and no mans land.
William would go inside his grandmas house, put his bag down, and give his grandma a kiss and a hug. She was the one woman he respected most in his life, for raising a child at her age wasn't easy. At times, he felt like he was taking care of her just as much as she took care of him. Today though, she was sleeping soundly to Jerry Springer.
William grabbed his other bag, and stepped out to the "Block". It was the street corner that marked the end of the "Dub Street Mafia's" territory. Across the street was the beginning of the "Cider Hill Gangstas" hood. Both sides weren't actively at war with each other, but seeing each other on either sides of the street made them nervous.
"Wassup playa?" Pugs greeted, holding out a hand for daps.
"Chillin like a mothafuckin villain dawg, sup wit you?" William replied, accepting the dap.
"I'm straight! Yo dude, check it aight? Smitty said he got some real good shit last night aight? Ole boy Saul tried it out, dawg...I'm tellin you! That shit is on fire!" Pugs said excitedly, handing William a forty ounce malt liquor in a brown paper bag.
William accepted it and took a long swig, a little annoyed with the warmth of the brew.
"Aight so get his dawg, I got me some bangin sticky in my bag, right here, right now!"
Pugs smiled, his one gold tooth glinting in the afternoon sun, "Fo real? Is it straight, cause you know how I do aight? No bullshit, no weak ass shit, only the best for the best aight?"
William unzipped his bag and pulled out a freezer bag full of weed. Pugs snatched it and looked it over.
"Holy shit muthafucka! This shit is lookin right! Damn pimp, where'd you get this shit from? Don't tell me it was from that bitch Keon?!" he said as he opened the bag and took a sniff.
"What?! Oh hell naw dawg! You know I never do business with punk asses and chicken heads! Sheeit, gimme my muthafuckin shit man! You buyin or not?" William said, taking back the bag.
"I dunno fool, I gotta play it like Simple Simon man! I gots to sample the ware, ye naw what I mean?"
William nodded, reaching back into his bag and pulling out an already rolled blunt, "Here man, check it! Already cleaned, destemmed, deseeded, all of it! That shit is off the chain, I'm tellin you man, I'm fuckin tellin you!"
Pugs took the blunt and looked it over, he gave it a long hard sniff, "Tell you what man, can you front me this blunt?"
William snatched it back from him, "Yo crazy nigga?! This ain't so cheap ass weak shit you get from all those other niggas man! This shit is straight from Columbia! It wasn't cheap! Sides, this bag got fronted to me from my boy Mars. I gotta pay his ass back with what I make, so I gotta tax the fuck out of my shit, or I ain't gonna make any mo money fo myself aight?"
Pugs shrugged, "Suit yourself playa, I'm just sayin, I could get yo name out on the streets. Tellin other bloods what's goin down on our block! Next thing you know, you got all the illest muthafucka's bangin on yo door, wanting a piece of the action!"
William thought this over in his head. It was a risk, trying to compete with mainstream hustlers and dealers. Those guys got jealous of the competition, and drive bys were common in the summer, when the new weed season kicked in.
"Aight, check it. We sit here, and smoke this blunt, so you can see jus how ballin this shit really is aight? And if it get;s yo ass all fucked up, get my name out on the street. You help me make some cheese, I'll cut you in on the profit aight?"
William knew this was a risk. He had to pay back Mars the money he owed, he had to make himself some money to buy more weed, and now he might have to go and pay his boy Pugs. But William figured he could tack on a little extra tax to his product, since it was a step below purple haze, and a step above sour diesel grades.
Pugs smiled, and they shook hands, "You got it my man! You got it!"