Part 2 of "All I Gotta Do Is Pull This Trigger?"

Here's Part 1 if you haven't read it:

http://stfuimtlkn.blogspot.com/2009/12/all-i-gotta-do-is-pull-this-trigger.html

Part 2


Chuckles told me to meet him in front of the liquor store on Valentine and 183rd . That's his favorite little spot man I swear. The hood calls him Chuckles cause dude is hilarious. I called him Chuckles cause that nigga looks funny as hell. He's about 6'4" and thick boned . Not really fat, just solid. His eyes sat so far apart from one another, that when you look at him from the side , it looked like he was looking dead at you with one eye. His nose took up half of his face and was missing the bridge, so from the front his face looked mad squashed. He wore a full faced beard and a leather jacket, even in the summertime. And when I say he's mad black , i mean that nigga is madddd black. Darker than his own shadow. I used to tell him, "Yo, I hope you never get lost at night cause no one will be able to find yo ass. You'd just have to wait till the mornin'. There he go!" The darkness did work in his favor though. He was a smooth ass Nigerian so he got all the ladies. Shit, more ladies than me. I guess they liked the contradiction of his complexion and his smile. It also worked in his favor because at night, niggas would never see him coming. That's why he was the hit man for all our late night missions. And tonight, I was in training.

I ran up on Chuckles from the back when he wasn't looking. If he wasn't standing in front of the streetlight I wouldn't hae seen him.

"Break yoself muthafucka", I joked. He turned around quicker than Dash from The Incredibles just to see me smiling up at him. He noticed it was me and put himself at ease.

"Aww nigga you was boutta get murked," he chuckled. "Don't be rollin up on me like that."

We greeted each other we were supposed to. With a handshake and a pat on the back. Chit-chatted for a minute then we got down to business.

"Alright man, so it's these niggas up in Queens right," Chuckles started. "They sprayed Big Mo's crib last week. Shot up all the windows, ran up in the house and popped one in Mo's shin so he couldn't move. Then they took all of his shit out his house. Diamonds, drugs, guns, money... all of it. I'm tellin' you, the nigga's wiped out. So we gotta go tighten these niggas up. They think they gonna get away with this shit?"

He looked to me in hopes of seeing animosity and agreement in my face. Really , I didn't have any. Mo was an asshole, yo. He went around town taking every man's girl and lacing every body's weed. There's a few hoes around the block that haven't been the same since they smoked his shit. He deserved what came to him. But of course I couldn't say that. Instead I put on my facade of frowned eyes and flared nostrils and said, "What? These niggas got life fucked up. They must not know who they're messing with! Lets go get these niggas."

"That's what I'm talkin' about C-hood!" The excitement in Mo's face was like a kid at Christmas. His wide eyes lit up and you could see his florescent white teeth from ear to ear. He was so excited that I was down to ride. Hmph, if he only knew.

"Alright where here you go." Chuckles scanned the scene before he reached in the back of his pants and pulled out a brown and gold 9 millimeter Smith and Wesson. My heart stopped. I stood there in the 78 degree weather frozen. That gun meant some one's life and I would be the one to take it. "Take this shit nigga! I can't just be holdin' this out in the open," Chuckles instructed.

I grabbed the gun. It was so cold. Probably as cold as my heart would be after I go and kill these men. Probably as cold as their bodieswhen their lifeless on the ground while their families mourn them. Is this really what I want to do, I thought. No, it's not. but it's too late to back out now. I snapped out of my trance and grabbed my facade. "Let's go get 'em."

all i gotta do is pull this trigger?

i changed my major to creative writing today ! (: yay me . im claiming my double major of philosophy in fall too . but anyways, i think i wanna start doing short stories -- a series kinda. lets see how it goes.

Part 1

Its just another day in the neighborhood . Niggas decided to act up yesterday so now I got business to handle. Im staring at this man in the mirror. Is he ready ? I gotta be . I got my durag on , i got my bomber jacket , and i got my nine . the epitome of a black man tryna make it in Bronx, NY. killin was never really my thing till i started fuckin with these Bloods . but they do for me so i gotta return the favor.
"Carrington, get yo ass out of the bathroom and come eat dinner!" I wish she would stop callin me that shit. "I told you, its C-hood now mama! Damn." She dont listen.
Ma did her thing on them greens. She always knows how to make a nigga happy.
"Alright Ma, I gotta go."
"So soon? Where you goin baby?"
"I got buisness to handle."
Those words pierced through every inch of her body. Those were the same words my daddy said to her 7 years ago the night he died. She hung her head as she tried to suck the tears back into her sockets. "Carrington, please be smart. I know you grown and everything now and you THINK you know everything but really don't, boy. You don't have to live this kind of lifestyle. You don't have to follow in your father's footsteps."
"Alright Ma, I'll be safe." I wasn't tryna hear all that. I'm a man and i gotta do what I gotta do. I embraced her with a long hug and gave her a kiss on the cheek. I let her know I loved her as I walked out the door. I usually dont do all that extra shiit but today I had to. A nigga didnt know if he'd ever make it back.