The question with no answer.

Hey yo, just a quick rant on some shit that happens quite a lot. Occasionally, somebody will walk in and ask a question that will leave me speechless. And that aint no easy thing. They'll say,"Hey, How much is your beer?"... I'll just look at em for while and reply,"I don't know how to answer that question." and some take it even further and respond with,"yeah your beer, how much is it?" with that tone as though I am the one that should be wearing a helmet. at this point, my left hand is already reaching for "tazer time," but I know that stupidity doesn't constitute "tazer," as a response.(I wish it did.) So I usually respond with,"Okay, you want me to start alphabetically or with imports? you got some pen & paper cause I'm only gon do this once." or I'll say," You want me to count up the beer in the storage room too or just the ones in the walk in cooler?" thats when they finally specify which beer they want prices for. But what the fuck yo? Its like walkin into a restaurant and sayin shit like,"hey, how much is your food?"... Oh well, whattya gon do, right? its the hood yo. peace

Island Bros

When I first started here a while back, there was this "essay" gangsta dude, all tatted up with jailhouse tats n shit, that would come by almost eurday. He was cool. you see, the thing bout gangstas n shit that I learned over the years is that you can compare em with dogs. You know how those lil bitty fag dogs like Chihuahuas n yorkies n shit are always barking their heads off goin outta their fukin minds? and generally, the big dogs,(I have to add,"from good owners." cause those fucked up owners who treat their dogs like shit really fuck up the "infrastructure.") don't bark all that much. Cause they're,"Big dogs," you know? they aint got nothing to prove or front. but the little ones can get smacked down quick so they try to have a bark thats "big." Well, in the world of gangstas n shit, in all aspects actually, same shit usually applies. The ones who do call the shots are generally pretty cool cats. they aint got nothing to prove. They know who the fuk they is. and then you get the punkass, lil dick bitches that walk around with that exaggerated strut and that constant scowl on their face. (the classic,"what the fuck you lookin at?" scowl)They are very tough when they're with their homies, you know? but if you catch em solo, all of a sudden, they act like they born again n shit. but anyways, you feel me right? well this cat was a big dog. and he was a fukin "PIMP." every week a different set o girls. and they was hot as hell too. none o that,"belly bigger then they boobs, but still rockin the belly shirt," crap. which seems to be the standard in the hood. We're talkin USDA choice, grade A, Select, Hotness. and not only one but 2 or 3 all up on him when he rolled up. And the "honies" wouldn't even let him pay, yo! I understand that "thug life" has that "badboy" effect with the ladies but this was beyond that. So whenever he'd roll up with no honies, I would say,"hey yo thug life, how the hell you do it man? you change honies more then you change shoes, man?" He'd just shrug his shoulders and say "I don't know man, they just seem to like me." So after a lil while, we became pretty cool. I met his sister and lil bros. The whole family was cool to me, so I was cool to them.(didn't know what the relationship would mean down the road.)
Locked up. was the word I got after not seein him for a lil while. When I asked,"how long?" 25 to life. Don't know what. Learned a long time ago not to ask the details. Last I heard, Homie was up @ Pelican Bay. Fuckin "Pelican Bay" yo, thats the "Super Max" shit. 23 hrs of "lockdown," a day. Houses the most dangerous criminals in California. (member what I said bout "big dogs") Anyways, a couple months later, his twin bro, "bad boy" gets out. Big as a muhfucker. And always in "bangin" mode. just on the hunt, lookin to fuck someone up 24/7. I'm just glad we was cool. (another long one yo, gon have to cont.)

Check this shit out yo....

A lil piece of info has befallen acroos my path yo. Turns out that "Violin's" crazy ass wife, you know the one thats always screaming n shit and according to Violin the other day, They won the publishers clearing house last week. They're gon get $10,000
a day for ten years. I said,"Holy moly! another sweepstake? thats like 3 in the past 6 months. Did you tell your buddy Peter Pan yet?" violin: "oh no, it's coming. its coming." The crazy pissy pants that was yelling at her husband last week in front o the store. So I go out and say,"HEEEEYYY! TAKE IT EAZY! NO YELLING IN FRONT O THE STORE. THIS IS AN OFFICIAL NO YELLING ZONE!" she turns towards me and with her half demon child half smoked for 35 yrs voice says,"FUCK YOUUU!" me:"THAT'S IT, 2 YEARS! YOU JUST GOT YOURSELF A 2 YEAR SUSPENSION!" she started to talk some mo shit, but I cut her off with,"YOU WANNA PUSH FOR 3? HUH? HUH? CAUSE I GOT PLENTY WHERE THAT CAME FROM."... "alrighty then." some o the regs were laughin they asses off... yeah, that one. Well it turns out that she is Rawls... AUNT! yeah no shit. fo fukin real yo! his uncle is married to her sister. Haaahhhaa! she don't know... yet! but last time they were yelling at each other, I said to Rawl," yo, you gon let him talk to your aunt like that?" aaaahhhhhh! this ones gon be good yo! peace....

Meet the regs...Snoop

Hey,.... I would like to introduce you to "Snoop." Of course its my nickname for her. I just think she looks like the real snoop dizzle. You know?... Well shes more like,"What if Snoop Dogg had chosen a life of crack." He should hire her to remind himself to never ever try crack.... anyways, me n "snoop" here r pretty cool. I can't understand half of what she says, but we get along. She's actually "Locs" sister.(a splittin image indeed.) But she's the shot caller of the "CrackerJack Crew." She aint no baller, but She a shot caller. I guess one out of two aint too bad. But the funny thing bout her, is that she gets all "gangsta" on Rawl. I'll be chillin out back and I'll hear her start raising her voice.."bere my bhuhkin chain? bhukthatmuerbhuken chhiit!"(translation: wheres my fuckin change at? fuck that motherfucken shit!) I'll come out and she'll go off bout how Rawl tryin to jack her shit. and I'll start instigating. Like "yo. Rawl why u trying to jack snoop?, She gettin all gangsta on you." "Snoop, he said he won't do it no mo." and She'll walk away all mumblin n shit. As I laugh at Rawl and tell him,"yo, watch out holmes, you want the "Dog pound gangsta crips" on yo ass?".... peace. (fyi, there's never any mistake or whatnot on Rawls part. it's just snoop trippin.)

chili peppers n BBguns (fin)

It had to be done at night. But not after closing, cuz that bitch ass snitch always calling the police and I needed an alibi. But it made the mission harder. I'd have to be fast and accurate. Like a fukin ninja yo. So I grabbed a black "beenie," that we sold in the store, and cut a slit for my eyes. (Not exactly "ninja" lookin when I put it on. more like a "wtf's up with dude with a beenie pulled all the way down with a slit for his eyes?") and pulled out all my black clothes which consisted of a pair of black jeans and one hooded sweater. "fuk man, I gots to get more black shit yo." Whatevas yo, is gon have to do. The plan was to be quick anyways. the plan: Spot that muhfuker in the vicinity, change into "stealth" gear, get up on my roof,(which had like a 3-4 foot wall surrounding it) get in position, and tag that bitch as many times as i could. then pull out, nice n smooth.
well here i am on the fukin roof, sweatin my balls off. Gaaddamn sweater is hot as hell. and when I got to to the roof n begin approaching the wall, I realized i'd be completely exposed. So I had to crawl the last half. of course this roof's got that semi gravel shit on it.(lil rocks n shit) they fukin hurt. and I spot the summbitch
across the street but no clear shot cuz he's on a payphone thats right smack between us. All I see are lower legs and top half of his head. So I wait. ("fukin rifle would be perfect") and wait. "who the fuck is he talking to anyways? what the fuk does a crackhead need to be on the phone for longer then 20 secs?" I'm fukin burnin up yo. feels like i might die of dehydration. I'm hittin the threshold yo... "FUK IT, I CAN'T TAKE IT NO MO. I'M TAKING THE SHOT." So I lift up and aim. this shit is far yo. i'm talking parking lot, fourlane street then the payphone to add to the difficulty factor. Watevas yo. I aim for the top part o his head thats sticking out, then I think,"what if I take dudes eye out?"...Fuk it, then they can call him "one eyed jack n shit." slowly inhale,(learned that shit in the movies) pull the trigger, saw his hands go up to his face and yell out, as i do a couple of those "james bond" shoulder rolls,(good thing i practiced yo) and scramble down from the roof. fukin relief as I get out of the "heat wrap." stash BB gun and beenie. hit the restroom to clean up a lil. Then calmly get back to the counters. all the while I'm thinkin, "dude I hope I didn't get his eye n shit." round five minutes go by and as expected, the police show up. I go outside with the whole,"what now" look on my face. The cops tell me that jack claims I shot him with a BB gun. I do the ,"whaaat? Guys, I have a business to run. I don't have time to be runnin round with a BB gun." Then I see Jack. That fool haad this huge ass welt on his cheek. shit was all throbbing red. And he's pointin fingers again and accusing again. I tell the cops that ever since I kicked him out of here, Hes got this vendetta against me. and how ridiculous it's becoming. I look at jack and say,"you probably got stung by a wasp or somthing." Cops just tell me to have a goodnight and tell Jack to quit callin the police all the time. I can't help but to crack a smile as I walked back in. Jack suddenly stopped his antics after that day. Redemption....

chili peppers n BB guns (cont)

Jack was like those muhfukin flies that keep landing on you. where your constantly waving, hoping it goes away. but it don't. just keeps irritating the shit outta you.
Like standing at the edge of the parking lot with whatever weapon he conjured up. Fukin broomstick, metal pole, rocks etc.... and yell shit like," COME ONNNN MOTHERFUCKER. I GOT SOMETHING FOR YOU. COMEON OUTTTTTT!" So I would run out there with my weapon,(it was a Louisville Slugger TPX aluminum bat) expectin a battle, but he would run away. I'd go back to work n within 5 min. the Piece o shit would be back doin the same shit. would go all fuckin day. and thats just the tip o the iceberg. I can go on and on, but i think you feel me,?... You see, I realized then that Bums have an advantage over regular folk when it comes to the game of "annoyance." They aint got no job. Do you realize how much time that would free up in a day? They can allocate days, even weeks to their goal. Advantage: Bum.
After puttin up with it for weeks, I finally had enough of this punk crackhead mufuker. I had to hurt him but not "hospitalized" hurt, you know? So I decided to go with a test mission first. On my way out, to prolly Walmart, that night, I grabbed my BB gun. I knew where he slept.(across the street, empty lot, on a trashed couch) So I figured it would be a good idea to see how much, if any, damage/pain I could inflict from a distance. So as I came around from the back of the market to make a right turn, I stopped, pulled the BB gun, took aim,(it was dark as hell but I could faintly see his figure. he was standing at the moment.) and fired 3- 4 shots at him.
Then I see him grab his ass and yell,"AHHHHHHHHOWWWWW,SONOVABITCCHHH." test: pass. advantage: me n my trusty bb gun. I was laughin my ass off as I drove off. "Redemption" was near. I could fukin feel it. you knowwww? uh huh. anyways, the next day when I saw him the end of the lot, He was all yellin n shit. and I knew that he knew. So I yelled out,"Hey Cracker Jack, hows yo ass?" and smiled. Fool was all ragin away. Soon, I thought to myself. Very soon.....(to be cont.sorry, no time yo. busy as hell.)