Dreads was smoking sour diesel on his couch as Lil Gunner played PS3 on the big screen.  Lil Gunner was almost 13 and did as he pleased like he was 31.  His baby face fooled a lot of folks, but everyone in the city already knew what it was him.  Lil Gunner had quite a rep for laying homeys flat, just like he was doing on the game he was playing…But what he did in the streets was all real.  Dreads thought he was a phenom….He never met a young cat that was so well versed and insightful and dangerous.  As Dreads took in the sour diesel, he considered if what he was doing was wrong.  He had been paying Lil Gunner for every kill he made.   His girl Trina hated the idea of Dreads using the young boy for mercenary purposes, yet she didn’t hate coppin’ Louboutin shoes and fresh Prada coats.  She never had that type of stuff on welfare.  She smoked a cigarette outside while her man and the youngster LG chilled inside.  She knew very well that Dreads would have dude make a another kill…And it was always, always with a knife.   LG preferred guns and was a serious marksman, yet Dreads thought that knife work made a better impression.  So it was what it was.  Every few nights, Lil Gunner would be digging his blade into a hustler or anyone who was putting pressure on Dreads.  It felt good to LG…Like he was fulfilling someone’s destiny by shedding their blood all over the place.  The only thing better then that to him was pu…No.  There was nothing better to him then that.  He handed the controller to Dreads and took a pull. 
“You know I gotta job for you, youngin,” Dreads said nonchalantly.
“And I know you got that doe to get it done,” the youngster replied.  Just then Trina walked back inside, Newport smell entering the living room.  She completely ignored them as she went to the back. 
“Say pause when you walk past, girl!” Dreads yelled.
“Screw your stupid game,” she yelled from the hallway.  LG shook his head.
“Man, you aint got your woman in check.  And unc, she gotta fatty to be sucha slimmy.  She gotta sister?”
“Yeah, I was about to have you kill her and her man, remember?” Dreads said as he continued to play the game.
“Yeah, I know that, I meant another sister.  But it’s cool.  I got too many on me now.  Old enough to be my mama…Hell, old enough to be my mama mamma.”
“You get it in like that, bwoy?”
“Come on, man.  What kid in middle school keep a knot and stay fresh like me?  But it aint even about that.  My swag is beyond swag.”
“Haha…Swag beyond swag.  If you ever want to take a break from killing, we could get you in…”
“What??  I’m not taking a break from killing until I’m killed.  Real talk.  And you need to get some more batteries for the other controller so I can beast on you right quick.”
Trina got on her computer and checked her online resume.  Still, nobody had offered her a position.  She desperately wanted to prove to herself and her kids that she could be somebody without using a man for a crutch.  That was getting so old.  So many dudes had been in and out of her life.  Some were good in bed, others were good providers, and others were just good listeners.  The ones whom she favored most were tatted on her back…Except her current man Courtney aka Dreads.  Although she wanted him to leave the streets alone, he had a special place in her heart, and she would eventually get a tattoo of his name over it.  Even though he used to be her sister’s man and she always felt like karma would come back to bite her, life had been enjoyable since they made it official.  Still, every time she wanted to do the right thing something always endangered her credibility.  Her cell phone rang and it was her preacher calling….And on the first ring she thought how handsome he was with his 6 foot height….the second ring had her thinking about how thorough and compassionate he could be…and the third ring she wondered if she should just answer it or let it go to voice mail……………….*

See the chickenhead cluck?..

Trina picked up at the fourth ring, retreating between a flood of high fashion in her walk in closet.  She prayed that the expensive clothes would muffle her voice some.  Didn’t need Dreads catching feelings.
“Hello, Pastor Jenkins, how are you?”
“I’m good, sister, thank your for asking.  I called to see how you are doing and if you are attending tonight’s service?”
“Ohhh, umm, no thank you pastor.”
“We would love to have you come.”  His voice was so potent and effective.  He came with the boom when he spoke and commanded all whom listened.  He seemed so respectful and courteous.  And he fit into his tailor made suits something terrible.  It was hard for her to think about Jesus when his very sight had her wet in church more times than not.  Total opposite end of the spectrum from Dreads.  She loved Dreads…But she didn’t know if she loved sex more.  Trina had been diagnosed as a nymphomaniac a few years ago.  When the doc told her the news she told him that if he knew that she was a nympho he should have no problem accepting that she was going to fuck the life out of him before he left.  She left his lil dick in trauma after she was done and was happy to know that she wasn’t just hot in the ass like her mama used to tell her all the time.  Lost in the realm of sex, she hardly even heard her preacher hang up.  Trina wanted to go to a church but  Dreads wasn’t going to take her, she didn’t feel like begging her sister, and she looked too good to be hopping in a cab.  Last time she did that she got gum on her Dooney & Bourke bag.
She dug in her nose to see how her nasal cavity was holding up.  No blood on her fingertip.  Good.  She heard the video game from the living room and felt congested with the bullshit.  She wanted to thump and Dreads was busy coaching that lil devil.  The gunshots she heard from the TV’s surround sound had her mind going, thinking about all of the stuff she had seen in her young life.  Although she was wet, she knew her mind needed to be on her kids.  She would never acquire custody of them as long as she was booed up with Dreads. 
Trina felt on her tits to calm her nerves as she laid on the bed thinking.  The bed felt uncomfortable.  The springs had been popped from all of the wild sex sessions.  Thoughts of sexual bliss seemed to materialize as her man came into the bedroom and looked at her with her hands in her shirt.
“How do they feel?” Dreads asked in a mellow tone.
“Perfect…” she said as she noticed a package in his palm.  He laid it on her stomach and said, “can you take care of this for me?”
She looked up at him and smiled slightly. “Yeah, I got you, boo,” she replied.
“My girl,” he said as he turned to walk out.  Trina stared at the brick of coke and shook her head.  She didn’t know if she should be considered useful or if she was just being used.  Now she wanted to go to church….

A bitch comes apart for the world but back together for her man…

On the other side of town, Trina’s sister Trisha was drinking down a can of Natural Ice.  She straight crushed that shit.  Her boyfriend Roy was pouring hot sauce on his popcorn as Trish let out an unruly burp.  “That was a good one, girl.  Next time you burp though, it’s gonna be some cum bubbles popping out, too.”
“Damn you a nasty ass, Roy,” Trish said as she pulled another can of beer from the fridge.
“You might as well just got a 40 oz, bitch.  Why you keep coming back and forth through the kitchen??
“Cuz I want to, boy.”
“Girl, you know I like you think like you are.  You lose any weight and I might have to disown you.”
“Man, you wasn’t saying that when you was with my sister and she’s a lil thing,” Trisha said.
“Well, things change.”  He put the hot sauce back on the counter and started to eat his popcorn as he walked out of the kitchen.
Back at Dread’s spot, Trina was taking lines to the nose as Dreads went in and out of her body doggy style while he puffed his sour diesel.  She was extra wet on his wood and the smoke was on point.  Deeper and deeper he went, trying not to the look at the many names tatted on her back.  He pulled out and sniffed a line up with her off the plate on the bed.  Back in the saddle, he gave her that coke dick.  He came all over the many tattoos on her back and rolled over, puffing the sour dies’ while she lay on her stomach, snorting up the goodness. 
“You should stop me.  I have a problem,” she said softly rubbed her nose.  He grabbed the plate and sniffed the last two lines and then smiled at her.  She took the smoke from him and indulged. 
“Do you ever think about getting out of this crazy game?” she asked him.
“Yeah…”
“When, Courtney?”
“When the Lord calls me to him.”
“It won’t be the Lord calling you.”
“Girl, please.  You know I keep you how you want to be.  Jewelry.  Clothes.  Money.  Who got you that car out front?”
“I don’t even know why you got it.  I can’t drive it ‘til I get my L’s back.”
“Well when you do get it, you’ll have that fly ride out there.  You know a lotta girls would love to be in your position.”
“And a lotta dudes would love to be in yours,” Trina said unmoved.
“Is that a threat?”
“Only if you feel threatened,” she said with a smirk. 
“Ok.  Well have fun tryna wipe my nut off your back.”

So the only thing left now is God for these cats – Diddy

Night had set in and Roy was watching the Carter documentary while Trisha cooked up some lobster and shrimp.  The aroma was smelling good as he took his 40 oz of Bull to the head. 
“This nigga Weezy crazy…” he said as he took a break from the bottle.  He looked and saw he was halfway done the brew as he scratched his nuts on the sofa.  Trisha’s two boys were kicking Roy’s legs as he sat with his buzz going.  “Ya’ll some bad lil’ fuckers.”
Both of them were small, 3 and 4 years old.  The youngest one got in Roy’s face and told him, “you’re a fat faggot.”
Roy swatted him out of his face as his brother laughed as he fell beside him. 
“I hate ya’ll lil niggaz,” Roy said as he went back to the bottle.  He finished the last 20 or so ounces in one gulp.  “That’s why ya’ll daddy don’t want nothing to do with ya’ll.  Nothing but trouble,” Roy spat out.
“Daddy left cuz he a faggot like you,” the youngest said.  His name was Natey.  He had a bald head, light skinned, and dark eyes.  He didn’t mind getting into trouble like his brother, nor did he mind getting punished for his actions.  Whatever. 
“You call me a faggot one more time and this beer bottle is going upside your fuckin’ head.  I don’t give a damn if you are three,” Roy said taunting him with the empty bottle of beer. 
Trisha came out of the kitchen with a displeased look.  “Ya’ll stop acting up.  All of ya’ll.  And Roy, don’t be talking about hitting my youngins with no damned bottle.”
“These muh-fuckers is out of control.  Somebody gotta put them in their place.  It aint gonna be no more fat faggot this and that,” Roy stated flatly.
“God made him a fat faggot,” the older one said.  His name was Rocko.  He was brown skinned with big eyes and a bald head, big lips that looked like he had an allergic reaction.
Just as Roy was about to come down on Rocko’s head, Trisha grabbed his hand.  “What the hell you think you’re doing?  You can’t be hitting my kids with no damned bottle, mannn!!!”
Roy got up off the sofa as the kids started throwing toys from off the floor at Roy as he walked out of the living room and outside.  He should’ve been cold in his t-shirt and jeans.  It was getting nippy, but he was so hot he didn’t feel any of the chill.  The house was feeling tight with those lil bastards.  They interrupted his sex life with their mom, they always were talking smack, and they were constantly in his business.  He wasn’t going to really hit Rocko in his head, he just wanted to scare the hellion out of him.  He loved them lil jackasses but they were really trying his nerves.  He needed some kush to clear his head.  Some kush and some good loving.  Some kush, some good loving, and a sub from Wawa.  He went back in the house and got his coat and the keys off the coffee table.  He hopped in the Tahoe and got gone.  He turned on 103 Jamz and let his mind go.  Roy missed Trina even though he didn’t.  Slim with a nice bubble, excellent b-cups, and his name was tatted on her back.  He loved how his name looked tatted on her frame; perfect.  Kissing her was like– shit, kissing her was like unexplainable.  Like he knew her his whole life or something.  He was hers and she was his.  He had her name tatted on his arm and he didn’t wanna ever get erased.  Even though he missed her he didn’t.  He was into Trisha now.  She was down for him.  She made him laugh, cum, and all of that.  She also made him think with his head instead of with his heart.  Challenging him was good for him.  He had been with two sisters before, once at the same time.  But hell, things were definitely different now.  If he could, he would be with both of them.  That would be nice.  But he knew it wasn’t reality.  Something about Trina…Straight nympho.  The broad stayed wet and wanted to go to sleep with a dick inside of her some type of way every night and wake up to it. 
He wondered if Dreads could keep up.  He knew that fucker didn’t have the kinda dick he had.  Couldn’t have.  Trina used to measure his wood daily and the last time she measured it was 10 ½.  Even though girls used to say he was big all the time, Trina never said it.  Not once.  When she said she wanted a horse dick he could only assume she meant a ‘horse dick’.  She was funny as hell though.  Even with all her emotional instabilities and black-out tendencies.  That girl right there like Usher said.  She was gone but not forgotten.  But fuck her.  He had a date with a sub…When he pulled into the Wawa he saw a few of his ol’ homeboys so he gave them some dap and then put his food order in.  Trisha text him:
{Sorry you and the boys aint getting along but yall gotta find a resolution.  I luv all 3 of yall n yall betta get it together 4 I beat yall asses  love u Roy}
Trisha was a peacekeeper…Sometimes.  He wasn’t even mad anymore as he ate his sub on the road home.  He thought about it and wondered why he didn’t get the kush and then ate but it was too late now.  He didn’t want to smoke like that now.  As he pulled back into the parking lot, he saw the living room light was off.  Trisha prolly had put the boys to bed and was ready for some one on one time with him.  Good he thought to himself.  His dick was already getting hard as he got out of the truck, wiping his mouth of the food he had just ran through.  He still wanted to eat some cooch.  That meat never went bad.
Other side of town, Dreads was running money through the money counter in the bedroom.  He had stacks all over the bed and Trina rubbed his back while he kept it going.  The bills were as crisp as they could be.
“I wanna fuck,” Trina said.
“Let me finish, baby,” Dreads said.
“No, I wanna fuck,” Trina said, this time more forcefully.  She grabbed him by his brown dreads.
“Girl, what’s wrong with you?!?” he burst out as he turned around on the bed. 
“I didn’t know you’re voice could be so deep.  That’s a turn-on,” she said softly.
“I gotta count this money.  I have to make payments.  This is something that has to be done.  You feel me?”
“No…But I want to.  If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to do something drastic.”
“Drastic?  Define drastic?” he said with a look of confusion.
“I’ll give you one minute to decide, and that’s it,” she said.
“Spoiled…”
“I’m a nympho.  The doctor said it himself.  Fuck me, man,” she said helplessly.  She ripped off his jeans and he took off her…hell, she was stripping before he could get a hand on her.  They did it for a few minutes and he came in her wetness.  “That was quick Dreads, but I’m not complaining,” she said as he rolled back over to count the money.  “We need a second round.”
“Baby, just get you a noseful.  I can’t help you right now,” he said a lil annoyed.
“Get a noseful?  I want a pusful.  Man, gimme what I want.”  He ignored her unforgivably.  Trina got up, nut seeping out from between her legs, and a look of discontent.  She grabbed the money counter and slammed it against the wall, fracturing the machine.
“What the fuckkkk???  How you gonna do that??” Dreads yelled as he got up looking down at the broken machine.  “How the hell am I gonna count my money now?  Huh?”
“The old fashioned way.  Fuck you.  I need dick.  I’m horny as hell and you can’t respect that.”
“Respect?” he said as he pushed her against the wall in aggravation.  She looked up at him and into his brown eyes.  He was sexy when he was mad, even though it was a rare occurrence.  He needed to fuck her…She was dripping her and his cum from out of her vulva as Trina continued to gaze up at him.  “What do you know about respect?  You act up because you know I’m about respect.  Because you know I won’t put my hands on you.  Because I’m soft, right?  Talk to me.”  Dreads looked her over.  “Nothing to say now, huh?”
“I’ll help you count your money.  I’ll count it all, in fact,” she said.
“Oh you will?  That’ll take you all night.”
“I know.  But you’re right.  I shouldn’t have done it.  But I don’t feel like talking.  Can you fuck me?”  She felt his chest and ran her fingernails across it.  He was slim but well toned and his complexion always made her think of the sands of the beach.  She was thirsty and wanted sex on the beach now.
Back on the other side, Roy was laying up with Trisha, kissing her on the back of the neck in the bedroom under the sheets.  The slow jams were playing on the radio.  Trey Songz Invented Sex came on.
“That nigga is fawn,” Trisha said boldly.
“How you gonna say a nigga fawn when I’m kissing up on you?  And fawn aint a word, bitch.  It’s fine,” Roy stated.
“That boy is fawn.  Whether you kissing me or not don’t make him any less fawn.  And fawn is a word.  Look it up.”
“I’m look it up alright.  The next time that nigga come back home we gonna hit his ass up.”
“Who the hell is we?”
“Me and my peoples from Richmond.  That nigga be rolling without security and shit.  Haha,” Roy said with a rude laugh.
“If I hear about you and ya broke ass friends robbing my Trey I’m putting an APB out for you.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” Roy said confidently.
“Oh yes the hell I would.  I be on Mediatakeout faithfully.  That’s all I gotta see.  All I gotta see!”
“You’re a traitor.”
“Go stick up The Dream or somebody.  Don’t stick up my Trey, ok?  Or Maxwell.”
“You’re getting on my nerves.  How you expect my dick to get hard and you talking about all these dudes?”
“We just did it, Roy.  And it was so good.  I can’t believe you want to do it again.”
“I did.  Until you started talking about all your lil crushes.”
“Boy, I’m not even thinking about them like that.  I love you, she said as she turned around to face him.  She rubbed his fat stomach and kissed him gently.  “How was the seafood, Roy?”
“Incredible.  You’re a helluva cook,” he said as he rubbed her booty. 
“Thank you.  I try.  I know you went to Wawa to getta sub that’s why I made you eat everything off that plate.”
“Oh, you knew?  Slick ass.  My stomach was about to burst.”
“You’re stomach did burst.  Glad we got incense.”
“How do they smell?” Roy asked her.
“Good.  Black Love is one my favorites.”
“One of mine’s too.  Hey, you know we gotta go to my uncle funeral Saturday right?”
“Trust me, I know.  And I’m sorry,” Trisha said.  She kissed him again and closed her eyes.  She thought about what the future held for them as she held him tightly and enjoyed his manly embrace.  His thick beard felt funny on her face as she giggled lightly. 
“We’re going to be alright.  Don’t worry about a thing.”
“I’m not,” she said.  “Good night.”
Later that night…Downtown Club – Granby Street -
A Versace suited cat with a Gonzo nose came into the bathroom, clutching his platinum cane and with a pimp walk.  He had an S-Curl or some type of textures in his hair that made his head matter slippery.  He was riding on his own cloud of cool as he spotted a youngin sitting in a corner with shoe polisher.  Lil Gunner, LG, demon child, whatever you choose to call him.  Well, that was him with his shoe polishing kit chilling in his lil chair. 
“Fuck you doing in here lil nigga?” the guy asked the kid.
“I’m here to do a job, man, that’s all.  You want your shoes polished, sir?” Lil Gunner asked him.
“These shoes never been wore before, so no, they don’t need any polisher, so get the fuck outta here.  You’re embarrassing with that query.”
“Fine.  Well, if you need anything, just holla at me.”
“Holla at you?  Kid, the only thing I need is to take a piss in peace.  And you can’t polish my dick so like I said before, get the fuck outta here.”
Lil Gunner looked at the fella as he turned away from him and went to a urinal…………..

Bring heat like Apollo to any metro...

“This fake ass pimp must not know who the fuck I be,” LG said under his breath.  He couldn’t believe how the guy came off on him like he was a punk ass middle schooler.  He pulled out his switchblade knife and crept towards dude as he drained the cognac out of him in the urinal.  As he zipped up his pants humming a tune he turned around and saw shorty with the blade ready to slice and dice.  There was no compassion in LG’s eyes cold eyes.  He was twelve years old, ice cold, in time froze.  He had a low cut, diamond earring in his left ear, light tan skin, and a square nose.  His eyes were puffy like he never got any sleep.  He hadn’t too sleep.  When you sleep, you slip away from reality.  As did the so-called pimp.
“You stupid lil fucker, didn’t I tell you to get the fuck outta here?”
“And didn’t I tell you I got a job to do?”
“Bwoy, if you don’t get out of my way with that damned lil knife,” he said as he went for his platinum cane. 
“I could’ve killed you when you had your back turned, but I didn’t want you to die with your dick in your hand.”
“Oh you didn’t?  And I don’t want you to die while you’re disrespecting your elder but now’s a good time as any!” he said as he went to swing his cane at the young.  He swung faster then Lil Gunner could ever imagine as the handle grazed the side of his face.  As the fella went for another swing, LG literally hopped his way into the bathroom stall.  The guy laughed at him as he did so.  “You look like a bunny rabbit hopping around like that.  I’m not going to kill your silly lil’ ass, I’m just going to give you a good beating.”  He ran to the stall after LG and immediately slid….And made a tremendous ThUuDd!!!  There was shoe polish all over the floor.  Pimpin’ didn’t know where the hell he was as he looked up at the ceiling as he lay on his back stiffly.  He felt all broke up from the crash but he knew he needed to get the hell up sooner than later.  Lil Gunner slid out of the bathroom stall and crawled on top of pimpin’ and laughed. 
“Damn, this was too easy,” LG said.
“…” pimpin’ was dizzy as hell.
“No last words, huh?  No begging?”
“Ughh*” He was out of it.  The impact he incurred was mostly to his head. 
“You’re a wack one,” Lil Gunna said as he proceeded to stabbing his chest area.  Blood was shooting up all into the air, spraying LG all over the face and dampening his clothes.  Pimpin’ tried to speak but his voice was gone.  All that came was…Well, you know.  Blood.  Lots of it.  And LG didn’t think it was enough.  Killing felt good.  Natural.  Right.  Pimpin’ kept looking at him as he trembled under his stabs that came faster and faster then the ones proceeding then them.  A blur of metal and closed fist followed by more blood.  It felt like forever but it was all but about a minute.  108 stabs.  Mostly to the upper body.  The floor was covered in blood and shoe polish.  He ran to the bathroom’s corner, grabbed his book bag, and then proceeded to change in the bathroom stall.  In under a minute he had on more appropriate clothing, his bloody clothes and napkin he used to wipe his face were in a bag stuffed into his book bag, and he was walking out of the door.  He neglected to check the man’s pockets for money, but he didn’t want to chance being caught.  Besides, Dreads would take care of his finances.  But shit…What if that guy had eight or ten Gz?  LG thought about it as he walked further away from the door.  Shit.  It was too late though.  Was it?  If he didn’t do it, then they would say it was a revenge killing instead of a robbery.  He had to make it a robbery…So he had to go back!
He ran back in and dug into the man’s pockets…seven hundred dollars…Good.  He would buy those limited edition Race Team Jordans he wanted.  Nobody at school had them.  He would be the first and only.  He thought about pimpin’s demise as he made way out the backway of the club.  His blood came out of him like it didn’t want to be inside of him.  Like it belonged outside of him.  He did the fool a favor.  LG thought his cane swing was pretty wicked, though.  He would’ve got the best of the average cat with that slick move.   He laughed about it as he made way out into the cold night.  He unchained his Huffy bike and pedaled his way home, listening to a Gucci Mane mixtape on his iPod.  It was going to be called winter he thought.  Not just weather wise, but because Dreads had a shitlist full of muh-fuckers he wanted on ice.  Not that LG minded, he just knew karma was a serious bitch.  Worse than death in some cases.  So he would do Dreads bidding for now.  He was the best cat to work for.  He paid on time.  He kept him busy.  He kept drugs close by.  And even he let him drive his whips.  And more importantly, he felt like a big brother.  That was good because all of his brothers were locked up except for one.  He figured he was dead because he had been missing for two years now.  So fuck it.  Born to die anyway.  But til then, do what you feel.  Really.  Do what you feel.
+ Dreads and Trina had just got done running the money through the new money counter he had just bought.  Trina was smiling seductively at Dreads as they looked at the work they had just got done doing on the bed.  Dreads smiled back at her.
“You know you’re crazy, right?”
“Know I don’t.  Kim said I’m complex, Patrice said I need a dildo or therapy, I mean what gives?  I’m just me.  ME.”
“Yeah, crazy,” Dreads said as he took the money stacks off of the bed. 
“Well, I can always be advance myself, you know what I mean?  I always want to better myself and not be stuck,” Trina said as she helped him with the cash bundles.
“Stuck?”
“Yeah.  I want to drift away from relying on you.  I want to be with you, but I don’t want to feel like I need to be with you, feel me?”
“I guess.”
“I feel like you my daddy on some real shit.  When I need a ride somewhere, I call you.  When I need my hair done, when I need you to listen to me, you know everything.  I feel real needy ‘round you,” Trina said as she kept up with Dreads moving the money.
“Isn’t that how you want to feel?”
“Hell naw.  I want to be independent.”
“Independent how?” Dreads asked as he stopped moving the stacks and just looked at her.
“I mean, I need to do my own thing.  I’m relying on drug money.  I’m sniffing up erryday.  I gotta fuck like lord knows how many times a day.  Forgive me lord.  That came out wrong.  That’s another thing.  I need to get my behind in church.”
“What Jay say?  Jesus can’t save you, life start when the church end.  You aint know that?”
“I can’t speak for him, but Jesus done saved me too many times for me not to give credit where credit is due.  And if you want to be quoting rhymes, catch this.  ‘Niggaz don’t hate, only God is great.’  Lupe Fiasco.  Holla.”
+When morning came, Roy was cooking up some pancakes for the boys and him.  Trisha was doing her hair in the bathroom and wasn’t much hungry. 
“Hurry up, fat man,” Rocko said. 
“Stop with that fat shit.  And this oven’s slow, so calm your ass down,” Roy said from the kitchen.
“I wanna eat now!” Rocko yelled.
“What I say??” Roy yelled.
“What I say, fat man?!?”
Roy snatched a plate out of the cabinet and poured the pancake batter out of the bowl and onto the plate.  He poured some Aunt Jemima on that and put it on the dining room table for Rocko.  Natey looked at his brother’s food with disgust.
“What the hell this is?” Rocko asked.
“Yo food.  And watch your mouth,” Roy said as he slapped him in the back of the head. 
Natey shook his head.  “I’ll wait for mine, fat man.”
“What did I say about that fat shit?”
“Sorry,” Natey said softly.
“I don’t want this.  I’m sorry too.  And hungry,” Rocko said with a sad look and puppy dog eyes.  Roy hated when he gave him that look.  He always felt sorry for his bad ass. 
“I need ya’ll boys to behave, you know?  Ya’ll can get Wii games, eat good, go to Chuck E Cheese, all that shit.  But ya’ll gotta act right.”
“But we like being bad,” Rocko said.
“Yeah…It’s good to be bad,” Natey co-signed.
“Geez,” Roy said as he took the batter filled plate away from Rocko.  He went to the kitchen and made a new batch of batter and got the hot cakes going for the youngins.  He fried up some bacon as well and put apple sauce on the side for them.  They dug in and watched their favorite movie…Juice.  Roy went into the bathroom and watched Trisha do her hair.  He held her from the back and she smiled up into the mirror at him.
“Hey, sexy man,” she said.
“Hey, sexy lady,” Roy replied in a sensual tone. 
“You feed my boys?”
“Yeah, I fed them knuckleheads.”
“I smelled it when you were cooking it.”
“I know you did.  But that aint what I want you want to eat,” Roy said as he felt her titties.
“Oh, here you go,” Trisha said with a smirk. 
“You know I get it in,” Roy said in his trademark masculine tone.  His followed around her thick curves.  “Thicker is better.”
“Yes, it is.”
“You know my unc is leaving me some things, Trish.”
“Yeah, I heard.  Are you going to accept them?” she asked Roy awaiting his response as she looked at him in the mirror.  She saw his eyes tear up a bit as he kept his eyes to the floor.  He never answered her.  He didn’t know.  So much pain was in his heart.  He just continued to hold her body from the back as his mind went to another time frame.  And it devastated him all over again….
+Lil Gunner was in school trying to focus on the history lesson but love letters kept coming to him from girls who wanted to get closer to him.  He was sooo dreamy to them.  Never wore the same thing twice, aside from sneakers.  His shoe game was sick…Jordans, Kobes, fresh Supras.  His breath stayed fresh, popping gum in class and absorbing the information.  LG’s crew sat in the back and dumbed out.  They didn’t get any knowledge in class…The only brain they wanted was from the girls that showed them moderate attention.  Usually it was just to get a lil’ closer to LG.  He always felt awkward with girls his age.  He felt like he was corrupting them; he’d much rather get a piece of their mama.  He hated to be in his small body and having to ride his bike places.  All he wanted to do was be grown…officially.  He hated being a 90’s baby.  Another note came, this one from Lisa.  She had already sent him one that he hadn’t replied to yet that period.  He nodded at her.  She was three seats behind him to the left.  Half black and Samoan.  He thought of her and all he could think was that she was a mutt.  That her father was probably black and didn’t think a black woman was good enough to carry his seed.  And he felt that if her dad could feel that way, then his daughter didn’t deserve to even see his dick.  Here he was trying to learn while cats were kicking freestyles, buying bubble gum from the bubble gum hustlers, and lil mama was sending him another note when he hadn’t replied to the first.  He penned a note back to her, even though he didn’t feel like it.  It was short and to the point.  ‘Fuck off’
+Dreads was driving his black 2010 535i puffing a Newport.  He hated to get that smell in the car but his nerves were shot.  He didn’t know if he could keep up with Trina’s sex-drive and if she was going to remain loyal.  All of that church talk had his mind going in circles.  And that pastor was getting on his nerves always asking if she was attending service.  If he loved the lord so much Dreads figured he might as well send the pastor to meet him in person.  He didn’t want to do that though.  But the dude was getting annoying as shit.  Religion was always holding things back for him.  As he waited at a red light, two girls slowed up to admire his black beauty. 
“Damn that’s a nice car,” one of them sad.  Her girlfriend was trying to pull her past the car as she all but drooled.  “And he cute with those sexy dreads…”
Dreads didn’t even pay attention to that talk.  He already had a girl.  As crazy as she may seem, she was his.  But for how long.  He couldn’t worry about that.  He had a big meeting to take care of.  And it could make or break him, so he had to get his act together.  He threw remnants of the Newport out of the car and drove off.  He had to look fear in the eye and tell fear that it wasn’t shit that it could do to him.