Friday, August 31, 2012

All Money Ain't Good Money-Episode 4


Third day on the job, and it feels like normal; like I never left this shit. Today, I have to find someone who owes Duval money. You know, shake it out of them no matter what. I go to his house and knock on the door. No answer. I go around to the back of his house and the door is open, so I let myself in, knowing damn well that this sumbitch is either hiding or he's gonna come at me, and I'm ready. I creep quietly as I can through the kitchen, through the living room towards the stairs, then I hear it.

Good old fashion love making, the rough kind, coming from upstairs. I grin to myself and make my way up the stairs, hearing her scream and shit, knowing I don't have to be quiet. You know the bitch is faking it like a bad ass porn star.

I reach the top of the staircase, I open the door to the left of me, nothing. I open the door to the right of me, peeking in, and there they are. She's on top and riding him like a wild mustang. I don't think I've seen anyone that fucks that fast or hard. I step back out around the corner, pull my 9mm out, attach the silencer, and rush into the room.

Before they can make a move, I grab her by the hair and put the gun to her head. “Not a sound from both of you, understand?” I turn my attention to dude; “You owe someone a lot of bills. Where is it?”

He looks at me with a wild eyed expression, and I'm really hoping his stupid ass doesn't try to attack me, I'm not in the mood.

“I-I-I have some of it, but understand I have bills too! I got--”

“Whatever, nigga! You don't have it, end of story! I'm gonna take a piece out your ass. It's just business.” I back off slowly from the bed, dragging his bitch with me by the hair and keeping her close. She's smart as she doesn't fight back or makes a sound. He thinks I haven't noticed him slowly trying to inch a hand under his pillow to grab his gun. And I'm thinking to myself, how do you let someone know you're not fucking around?

I shoot the fool in the shoulder, and he screams like a bitch.

“I told you not to fuck around, nigga! Get your ass off the bed and get on the floor!” He does as he's told.

“Don'tshootmeagainmuthafucka!”  Great, now he's going into shock. I throw his bitch next to him on the floor and make myself comfortable on a chair that's by the bed, my gun never leaving him.

“Let's try this again, fool. Money, where, and now.”

“It-it-it's in the closet.” By the sound of his voice, the sumbitch is going into shock. By the way he's grabbing that shoulder, and bloods pouring out, I'm surprised he hasn't. “Take that shit and go!”

I prop myself on my knees, still aiming the gun at him. “You raising your voice at me, nigga?”

“I said take that money and get the fuck outta here mutha-”

I pump another bullet into the same shoulder, blood splatting the wall and sheets behind him, but this time he doesn't scream. He gets an expression of pure pain on his face, and he finally passes out. That's what he gets for disrespecting me, then it hits me; I'm enjoying this. That thought and feeling turn my fuckin' stomach upside down, and I know it's time to go.

I walk past them to the closet. I see the only shoe box sitting on the top shelf and find lots of money in it.  I take the whole damn thing and point to his bitch before I leave.

“Not a word to anyone. Don't make me come looking for you.” She nods frantically and I'm out the door.

I'm out the front door and walk back to the front where Duval's youngins from Cafe Loco are waiting for me to make a getaway; tall ass Miller, short fuck Shawn. I toss the box to Shawn as I enter the car. Miller takes off.

“ 'Bout time, thought we were gonna have to come save yo old ass! Get the money or what, nigga?” Miller as usual with his big ass mouth. Gonna have to show him who's boss, soon.

“Bet this mu'fuckas a-a-a-a-arithis kicked in n-n-n-nigga”. This from Shawn. Miller points and laughs at me. Now I know why his ass kept quiet this whole time. He stutters so bad sometimes I think he's gonna have a seizure. They're both pure comedy, but I know how to check Shawn.

“You mean arthritis, Shawn? You're gonna hurt your damn self someday trying to talk, fool, then Duval is gonna blame me for how fucken r-r-r-r-retarded yo ass is.” Yes, I mock him and Miller laughs, all the yellow crust showing on his teeth, and yes, Shawn shuts the fuck up, mad as hell, but they're not what's irking the shit out of me right now.

It's me.

Can't believe how easy I've fallen back into this lifestyle. I'm frustrated and I'm taking it out on others. Wasn't supposed to be this way for me. That's the first time I've shot someone, where before, I'd just beat their ass. But shooting someone? Believe me when I say that I surprised myself back there.

The monster was back in a worse way, and I'm enjoying it.

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