blkdragon

grounded
2005-10-13 04:45:14 (UTC)

An earlier life

Ordinary day, seems status quo still reigns, for now!
Patience, documentation should feed the light of truth.
Fariss came to work with me today, the machine I operate is
suffering program glitches, making the operation unsafe; it
can be frustrating. When it gets to the point where
operating it is too hazardous, I’ll walk away from it, just
another bullet in the arsenal; when war is declared. The
average company looks upon it’s workers, as the military
looks upon the lower echelon, pawns to be used and
sacrificed; if necessary the upper echelon will be fed to
the flames and the elite will enjoy the game. All of this
must change, for the sake of life itself, before man; life
was not dog eat dog.
Man’s rise introduced preying on one’s own,
fratricide/patricide/matricide/genocide, until then; each
species sought to extend it’s own existence and for that to
happen they had to respect each other’s territories. There
was dominance, there were battles, yet none of them were
fatal; the wounded was allowed to survive as best it could
or it would become food for another species. Most animals
are territorial, very seldom will a battle end in the death
of one of the combatants, people do
that.

I was thinking about my early days in New York, back when I
worked as a chef, back when I still dallied in “the life”.
I’d been introduced to opium one day, a resinous substance
with a lavender scent, it was smoked for it’s effect. I
didn’t experience the state of euphoria depicted on screen,
it was an enjoyable high though, perhaps it was merely just
another form of “ghetto heaven”; an escape from “my life”.
I’d introduced other’s to it and one of my co-workers asked
me to cop for him, since I was getting some for myself, I’d
pick up some for him as well. I went to the spot, my man
wasn’t around, the person I asked said he had access and I
followed him to a house a couple of blocks from where we
were. I gave the guy the money, he went inside the house,
after an hour of waiting I realized he wouldn’t be coming
out; going to the door might have been tantamount to
suicide, no telling what was on the other side.
I was heated, everyone in the "life" expects to be taken,
at one point or another; considering the type of people you
were dealing with, it’s inevitable. On the shady side of
life, no one needs to know your name, or your face. I had
to call my man and tell him I’d been taken off, I’d left my
belongings at his house, had to go there to retrieve them
and told him I’d have his money for him in the morning. I
then went home and called a friend, told him that I needed
money, wasn’t a problem; he asked how much I needed? I told
him the amount wasn’t the priority, the priority was the
time I needed the money, no later than 5am the next
morning. He said he’d be at my door when I needed him, he
was indeed, when he brought the money to me; he asked if I
needed any more? I didn’t want to take the money he was
giving me, but I was responsible for the money that was
taken from me, that didn’t belong to me.
How about that, a junkie with scruples! I got to work and
gave the man the money he’d entrusted to me, he was
grateful. When I returned home I gave thought to having
been the victim of a set-up, I was ready to go to battle. I
went to the bathroom and pulled out the clippers, I began
shaving all the hair off my head; everything but my
eyebrows. I put a Grossman air pistol with a fresh CO2
cartridge in a fabric bag, I imagined that I could shoot
the pellet through the bag, if close enough to my target; I
expected to do serious damage. I was planning to shoot
through the eye, if successful, my target was a dead man. I
went back to the spot, no one recognized me, even though I
was a regular; normally I’d be in the uniform of the day
and not my personal clothes.
I stepped through the door, unzipped the bag slightly,
enough to stick my hand in it. I scanned the area for the
face of the asshole that took someone else’s money from me,
had it been only my money, I would have chalked it up to
inevitability. They eyed me warily, never stopping
their “craps” game, I stayed in my corner and they stayed
in theirs; keeping half an eye on me. My target didn’t show
and I left the spot after a while, I told the gamers who I
was looking for, I wanted them to warn him. I didn’t see my
target, I’d return tomorrow and the day after that until I
found him. I wasn’t the first or the last person this loser
would target, the okey doke was his stock and trade, there
were times when he’d actually sell what he said he was
selling; the other times it would be a “jack” move. Almost
a month later, I was still shaving all my hair and going to
the spot in my own clothes, I spoke to no one and everyone
gave me plenty of space. I saw my target talking to a
couple of kids, doing his good deed for the day. I opened
the bag and put my hand around the stock of the gun and
waited, he never noticed me. When he was done talking and
the boys had walked away, I approached him, the first thing
he noticed was my hand in the bag. I said, “we need to sit
down and talk”, he said; “why you got your hand in that
bag”? I told him that he didn’t need to worry about my hand
in the bag, if he told me what I needed to hear. He’d
recognized me now, as one of his recent victims, we sat and
I asked him, “do you have any kids and would you like to
see them reach 21"? He immediately apologized for taking me
off, I told him that I didn’t want to hear all that, I only
wanted to hear what he was going to do about it. He
proceeded to tell me that he’d have my money for me the
next day, I never should have believed the con, I thought
I’d sufficiently put enough fear in him; I was wrong.
I didn’t return the next day, but eventually I returned to
the spot, looking to “cop”. I was on my lunch break, I hit
the block and there he was, talking to a couple of
brutha’s. I stepped to him, my first mistake, it might even
prove to be my last. I said, “where’s my money man”, he
looked at me and said, “I don’t owe you any money
muthafukka”. I said, “oh, ok” and proceeded to back up and
leave the area. His bravado suggested that the two guys
with him were “with him”. I’d see him another time, when he
was alone. He then said, “I got your money muthafukka, come
with me”. He started down an alleyway, if he thought I was
going to follow him to the gates of hell, without an
equalizer; then he thought I was dumber than I looked. I
headed in the opposite direction. I should have known that
eventually he'd arm himself, all the people he'd taken off,
that would eventually come looking for him.
The only thing I carried today was a radio, I hadn’t made
it out of the area when he walked around the corner with
his hand hugging his leg. I glanced at him and imagined he
was carrying a knife, I pulled the radio from under my arm
and adopted a defensive stance, I’d plan to use the radio
as a club; if need be. I was confident I could beat the
shit out of him, hell he only had a knife, we’d have to get
close to get serious.
He pulled his hand away from his leg, pointed it at me, it
was then that I saw the “22". He said, “you’re going to
defend yourself against this, with that”? I said, “no
man” , returned the radio to my armpit and started running
scenario’s in my mind. It’s only a 22, I was only 4 steps
away from him, with the element of surprise; I might reach
him before he could hit anything vital. I thought he might
have to empty the gun in me to stop me. All of this ran
through my mind in micro-seconds, I began to back away, he
allowed this; I made it to the corner and turned it. I
started making my way back to work, I was on my lunch hour.
I took a deep breath, air had never tasted so sweet. Seems
when you're looking oblivion in the eye, time ticks in slow
increments, what seems to be forever is but mere moments.
I couldn’t believe how close I’d come to death and now I
had to go back to work as though nothing untoward had
occurred.
I made a decision that day, time to leave the “life”, time
to give up the dope. Only the shadiest people are found in
the darkness, death is always around the corner. I wasn’t
afraid to die, but I had people depending upon my survival
for their own survival, who would care for my Sons? I
realized that I didn’t want to kill anyone that looked
remotely like me, another black man, or anyone for that
matter. This was the beginning of me finding myself again.




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