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"There Is a Nigga Inside All of Us" (Little short story I cooked up in two hours)

With the vocals of Lil Wayne slurring from this mouth Tank slid his corduroy house shoes along the white tile floor of Byron’s liquor store. It was a twice a day trip for the 28-year-old who  knew exactly were the 40’s were, but he still liked to walk the isles just in case there was some fine ass bitch that needed his attention or some preppy white boy that needed to score some weed.  With the ice cold 8-ball in one hand and the front of his baggy pants clutched in the other Tank slowly made his way to the register and dropped four wrinkled up dollars on the counter. Before the elderly woman could give him is change he cracked open the brew that was wrapped in a brown paper sack and took a long satisfying sip.  Once outside he reached inside of his large front pocket and grabbed his cell phone to check the time.  It was 8:45 and the parking lot of Byron's was usually packed with people who were trying to get their spirit of choice before it closed at nine, but tonight was different. Although there were dozen’s of people inside the store the parking lot was empty except for Tank’s green and yellow Oldsmobile Cutlass. Surprised by the lack of cars he turned back to look through the large glass window, but the lights were off and all the customers had seemingly disappeared. 

 “What the fuck,” he said to himself as he smelled his forty to make sure it wasn’t poisoned or tainted “I must be trippin’.”

  Not only was the parking lot empty but there were no cars on the road or people on the streets.

 “There is nobody out here expects us,” said a man who seating on the hood of Tank’s ride.

 People or no people Tank wasn’t about to let a Mo’fucker sit on his candy paint so he immediately pulled out his glock and put a nasty look on his face that rivaled a snarling pit bull.  “You best get off my ride nigga,” screamed Tank, but the gentlemen only laughed and smiled.

 With his heart racing behind his white, cotton wife beater and his gun cocked to the side Tank ran up on the dude and placed the weapon on his temple.  

 “I don’t think that’s going to work,” said the gentleman who was still calm and collective.”

 Surprised by the man’s attitude Tank took a few steps back and then his gun hand started to shake and his pit bull stare turned into disbelief.  And when the man stood to his feet the single light in the parking confirmed Tank’s fear as the strangers face became more visible. “Man, who the hell are you,” said Tank , but he already knew the answer?”

“I’m Tyrone Deshawn Richardson, but people call me Shawn” said the man who reached out his hand, but Tank refused to shake it and he held his gun even tighter. “I was raised just few miles from here near Northeast 23rd and Bath, but of course you already know that.”

 Confused and scared by the man’s appearance Tank let off three shots, but nothing happened.

 “I told you it wouldn’t work,” said Shawn who was the spitting image of Tank.  Except for the clothes, tattoos and braids the two men where identical in everyway. They even shared the same crooked smile that Shawn gladly put on display when the bullets magically missed his body.

 “What kind of shit is this,” screamed Tank who was looking around the parking as if he was on the TV show Punk’d. “How in the hell are you gong to be Tyrone Deshawn Richardson? I’m fucking Tyrone Deshawn Richardson, so you best explain yourself nigga. 

 “Or what, you’ll try and shoot me again,” laughed Shawn who sat back down on the hood of the Oldsmobile. “Why don’t you just put the gun down and have seat.”

 “I ain’t doing shit until you tell me what’s up homeboy.”

 “If you haven’t figured it out I’m you. Well I’m sort of you.”

 “Bullshit. I would never be some square ass nigga rocking some nut huggers, with a tight ass Polo Shirt. You must have me confused with somebody else, Nephew, and like I said earlier get the fuck up off my car.”  

 Disappointed at Tank’s unwillingness to accept the truth Shawn could only shake his head before a happy memory that they both shared popped into his mind. “You remember when we were eight years old and Big Mama bought us that bike for Christmas and we thought we were the shit cruising down Prospect.

“Man who told you that story,” shouted Tank who was still holding the gun. “Man anybody could have told you that story. Shit, my whole family was there when I got that bike.”

 “Do you remember what happened to that bike,” said Shawn who could see the hurt in Tank’s eyes. “You told everybody that the bike got stolen, but Mama took it over to Cash America and pawned it for twenty dollars so she could get high.”

 “Man that bike got stolen,” screamed Tank as his voice echoed across the empty parking lot.

“Man tell those lies to somebody else. That crazy bitch said we were going to the park, but instead of the playground she drove us straight to the pawn shop in that busted ass ford tempo. And when you tried to save that bike she told you to sit our monkey ass down or you’ll get popped. To make matter even worse she drove straight to the spot to get her shit.  And do you remember what she said before she got out of the car?”

 "Mama needs her medicine,” said Tank who was on the verge of tears but was using every ounce of his testosterone to hold them back.

 “A few minutes later she came outside stumbling, and she could barley open the car door. Shit, we sat in that cold ass car for nearly two-hours until she finally drove us home, and when we got there she said.”

“Don’t tell Big Mama what happened to your bike or the social worker will take you away. This is our little secret. I love you little man,” said Tank as he completed the sentence and allowed one single tear to run down his face. “So did I get blasted coming out the liquor store, or is this some kind of twilight zone type shit.

 “I don’t know, but seeing that I know everything about you and because you couldn’t kill me I’m probably a figment of your imagination. I’m basically what you’re life would have been like if you would have stayed in school and didn’t start slinging that dope.”

 “Since you know my life story then you know I had to do what I had to do. After Big Mama died, and Mama got locked up I got introduced to the game by some cats that knew I could put in some work,” said Tank who finally put the gun on the hood of the car and took another sip from his forty.

 “Obviously there was another way, or I wouldn’t be here.”

 “I wasn’t listening to that God shit Aunt Mary was pushing, or that school shit. I needed to get paid. That bitch was working two jobs just to take care of her real family. She didn’t have time for me. I wasn’t wearing any hand me downs.  I wanted that fast money, kid.

“But look at yourself now. You’re 28-years old and you’re still selling weed and crack. Doesn’t the shit get old? Don’t you want more out of your life then just malt liquor, cars and these ghetto ass bitches?

 “So you think god sent you down here, so you can get my life in order. So you can teach me how to be a bitch ass Uncle Tom and drive a 5-series BMW.

“So you think every black man that drives a 5-series BMW is a sell out. I see why people like you don’t make it.”

 “What do you mean people like me don’t make it?”

“All day long you walk up and down 23rd street selling that shit, chasing bitches, and drinking. Why don’t you cut your hair, pull up your pants, get job and stop living off the government. People like you make me sick. 

With a crooked smile on his face Tank took a sip of his forty and then passed the brown paper sack to Shawn. “Here my nig take a swig of this -- it will calm your nerves.”  Tired of arguing and his throat somewhat parched Shawn reached inside the sack and pulled out a single malt scotch.

 “I thought you were drinking a forty,” said Shawn as he took a quick swig before he put the cap back on the bottle.  Seconds later he was placed the bottle of Johnny Walker Gold on the hood of the car and quickly noticed that the green candy paint had been replaced with metallic silver. “What the fuck” he mumbled to himself, as he jumped up from the car and realized it was now his BMW.

 “This isn’t my spiritual intervention this is yours,” said Tank who still sitting on the car with a crooked smile.”

 “What you mean this my intervention,” repeated Shawn as he quickly picked up the gun and pointed it at Tank.

 “Go ahead nigga squeeze that trigger. Let your inner most fears come out. There is nobody watching except for me. That cold steel feels good in your hands, don’t it?  It’s been a long time. You even got it cocked to the side just like me”. 

 “What are you talking about?”

 “I’m not real Shawn. I’m the nigga that lives inside of you. Ever since you moved in with Aunt Mary when you were 14-years-old you’ve been trying to forget about me, but no matter what you do you can’t get rid of me.  The braids, the baggy clothes, and the car they’re everything that you’re not and never want to be.   How you look at me is how you think other people look at you.  

 “Get the hell out of here,” said Shawn as he let off three shot, but once again nothing happened, and he threw the gun away in frustration.  

 “Now you knew that wouldn’t work,” said Tank with a smile on his face. “When you were growing up you loved basketball, fried chicken, and hip hop, but all you do now is play golf, eat fish, and listen to soft rock from the 80’s. I know you don’t want people to think you’re ghetto as nigga, but you’ve lost track of who you are.

 “I don’t have to take this shit from you,” said Shawn as he disengaged the alarm system to his car and jumped inside, but when he tried to start the luxury automobile nothing happened.

 “You’ve been running from me for over 14 years and this car isn’t going anywhere until we get some shit worked out,” said Tank who was now in the passenger seat and was drinking form the bottle of scotch.

Tired of fighting with his own imagination Shawn took a deep breath and pulled his keys out of the ignition. “So what do you want from me? Am I suppose go rob a liquor store or go smoke some weed,” said the defiant investment banker who reclined his seat to make himself more comfortable.

 “You see my nig that’s the kind of attitude I’m talking about. Every time you see a nigga like me you turn away so we don’t make eye contact, or you frown up your face.

 “Because the shit is ignorant,” screamed Shawn who wiped his face with his hands. “Because of niggas like you the black community is gone. A matter a fact it we shouldn’t’ even call it a black community it should be called a nigga community and your motto should be ‘if you don’t want to do shit with your life move into our luxurious section 8 housing,’  or it should be fuck a nigga, have a baby, get a check.”

 “Like I said earlier I’m the nigga the lives inside of you, so if you hate apart of me you hate a part of yourself,” said Tank who took another sip out of the bottle. “And you didn’t make it out of the hood with out a little help. Along with Aunt Mary there was Mrs. Wilson the art teacher, your old principal Miss Spencer-Winston, and what about Dr. Clark and Mr. Pitts when you went to college. They were the one’s that told you to cut those braids, study hard, and find the lord. What if they would have turned their backs on you like you turn your back on me?”

 Feeling somewhat guilty Shawn was at a lost for words, but he still dug down deep to find an excuse. “It’s not the same. These niggas today don’t give shit about anything. When I was there age I pulled myself out of the water and those names you just mentioned pointed me in the right direction. Do I want to help my people, yes, but I can’t afford to get pulled back into the ocean.

 “Then what about Brandy,” said Tank with the trademark smile. “You’ve been dating that girl for two years. She’s smart; she’s beautiful, and has her Master’s in education and the girl got ass fat booty. ”

 “What in the fuck does this have to do with anything,” asked Shawn who was more then puzzled.    

 “Six months ago you walked into B.C. Clark looking for rings because you thought that girl was wifey material, but after you got that promotion her caramel skin got a little too dark for you, and you’ve been checking out those snow bunnies.”

“Man you’re full of shit,” screamed Shawn as he grabbed the bottle away from Tank and took a sip.”

 “Don’t get mad nigga; because a pimp like me don’t discriminate, shit I’d hit anything that can walk on two legs and can speak if you know what I mean,” said Tank who tried to get some dap from Shawn, but was denied by his ice cold stare. “Alright nigga be like that, but the point I’m trying to make is don’t turn your back on the all the hard working brotha’s and sista’s out there just because you’re afraid of becoming like me. You’re not me Shawn.  Being with a black woman doesn’t make you ghetto.

“But why do I have to be the savior of black of America? I just want to live a normal life, have a family, and chill out. I don’t see any white people running back to the trailer park, so why do I have to run back to the hood.

 “Like I said earlier I’m the nigga that lives inside of you. So whatever you decide it’s up to you.  You’re not obligated to help your people, but I also want to remind you that you’ll always be black no matter how much you try to run from us.

 

 

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Replies to This Discussion

Hi T.: This is the bomb. Great storyline and great dialouge. The realism bleeds through on every corner. This is something that could be expanded into a novel. Check into using a little more description between dialouge.

"I'm Tyrone Deshawn Richardson," He held out a hand, but Tank refused to shake it. The man shook his head and smiled, "I was raised a few miles from here, but you already knew that, didn't you?"

See how placing a few spots of simple action into a sentence help push the story along? Overall your story shines. You did a great, and creative work here. Can't wait to read more. 

I'm n love with There's A Nigga Inside All Of Us; OOWEE

The Spices In Life by Kimberly Wilson

We add flavor our foods, our homes, our wardrobes and most of us add a little flavor to our lives. Meet Christine Veronica Webbster whose life is flavored with emotional, financial and social spices that fires flavor into her every waking moment.

From the day of her platinum-spoon birth into the household of the super-wealthy Webbsters, her emotional stability went on a downward spiral in to never, never land. Along the way she knowingly makes a life-long nemesis of Angelia McCarthy, acquires two Master Degrees and two multimillion dollar businesses, all the way to giving away her fortune and meeting the Grim Reaper face to face; delicious.

The Spices In Life has all the flavors in the mix.

My first novel can be ordered: http://www.amazon.com/dp/ B007F22K6I and it’s .99.

Thank you for your literary support. Please Facebook this to your family friends and every social circle you have; again, I’d greatly appreciate it.

 

BOLD STATEMENTS

Why are so many people needing to be un-acceptable. Why do they reach out to me in such a forceful manner. Do I appear to relinquish my RIGHTS as an achiever in any given effort. Read me my MEMORIES and the answer will reach out and touch someone; any one. The remedies that reside within my mind are consequences that may render one USELESS in their efforts. Recycle mandatory affections and reside amongst the COMPETITION that may master anger’s rejects. What we fail to sometimes realize is that we make MISTAKES but we are not to be held accountable for the such. RECAPTURE every demeanor that may fight to survive and within that circle, may become beknownst to you. When a TIGER cries and that they do, we can’t hear it as well as when a TREE falls and yes, it does make a SOUND. Feel me when you can’t and even when you won’t because everything I ATTEMPT to become only remembers that which may bring about my DEEPEST fear. ROARING is a call of the wild. Screaming comes from inside the closet and the mercy never rest. FAILURE can never be accounted for if the attempts are MEASURED. Record the evidence and scream it from within. Never allow FORCES to be with you; there is a heaven and the only way to know that, is to FORGIVE. Forgive when you can’t or simply when you don’t want to. Escape and FREE your…..

Knowing their mind allows the PLEASURE to revolve around what I resolute; and the REWARD will be all mine, no yours too.

Support that which is MANDATORY. I don’t think so far that which we accept is only as far as the eye can see and to only see can bring about UNBELIEF. Boldness is a fortified ELEMENT that will extinguish an enormous, burning DESIRE; there is another understanding which must be LEANED on.

Kim Wilson

OOWEE

onmyownkikl@yahoo.com

http://www.kimkologne@synthasite.com

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