IF THIS IS DEATH... BRING ON THE ANGELS

...The truck lights varnished my vision into effulgent white. BAM!!! The Vice Lord next to me yanked the wheel and we rumbled into the ditch. This isn't a biggest bass at the pond story, so I don't know how close in millimeters to the truck's bumper we were -- but I know it was razor close.

The next minor hurdle I had to leap...

Death. The amphetamines ripped through my body. My heart pounded like mobilized artillery being fired. Pride kept me from paramedics. Once again I knock knock knocking on hell's door. The Vice Lord got me to his sister's house.

My once sexual tryst turned into a dance with the pied reaper, trying to lead me down the pit of hell. The Vice Lord's sister washed me down in cold water and that's as Hubba Hubba as it got. Deplorable and decommissioned as an astute leader all in an hour's time.

Demonic swirls splashed off the dark ceiling. Shadows tempted me with the release of death off the periphery of my eye lines. I thrashed, tossed, sweat like a thousand fat men running in the desert.

The Sun Popped Up

With two scoops of Raisins. And like some commercial, once the night flamboyantly disappeared with all it's hideous creatures -- my temperature lowered to human resonance.

A week earlier I almost popped someone for calling the only black family in this town, "niggers." Now I if feebly appeared outside, they'd lynch me with Barney Fife watching. No fear. Always kept a gun near. This time it wasn't bullets or bad attitudes that almost got me -- it was love at last sight. Five heart shaped pills. Sorry to break their hearts, but I had more important business at hand -- gangbanging in a war the Fat Santa started.

BACK TO THE HOOD

It took me a weak to recover over at Biker Breath's. A week out of battle gave out enemies the upper hand. The Latin King seat Inca approached me to begin a lucrative cocaine distribution pipeline. He wanted someone outside his own clique to split up the drugs.

When you drug deal, you learn that your inner circle becomes your closest enemies when the god cash reigns on the throne. The Inca admonished me to just distribute to heavy clientele he'd send and don't low deal small quantities on the streets. Cool. The bigger quantities don't make as much but is safer.

Only one caveat -- do deal freely, That meant worry about just the snitches and pigs and not rivals trying to blow you away.  I would have to take out my arch nemesis -- Fat Jamal and his hanging thunder rolls that protected his Brontosaurus brain.

THE PLAN OF EXECUTION

.As fortune cookie fate would have it, we lounged at a park with one of Jamal's ex-girlfriends that sold weed for me. She had a G.D. with her named -- stupid face. I forgot his name. So it's stupid face. A couple of Vice Lords under me and a Latin King hung out at the park as well.

The G.D. talked big game that he'd dust Jamal for treating his now girlfriend like that.  He quickly changed that to stab when he saw me salivate seeing Jamal's corpse barbecuing and spinning over a spit with a knife and fork in my hand . Okay, "Let's do it."

As unluck would have it for Jamal, we had his coordinates where he was hanging that day. Literally, a few blocks from the park and the projects. The King, G.D. and his girlfriend would ride in one car. All the Lords in another. I told them I had to fuel up for getaway purposes and to stop by the projects to meet us so we can grab our guns and properly take on the Black Santa if they have guns.

Wires Got Crossed

Since I had a bunch of one celled amoeba brains with me, they forgot the most important part of the plan. Car One didn't meet us in the projects, or they chickened out. We got some artillery and waited for them to show up. Okay, less minds think alike. Let's go to the location and handle Professor Clump ourselves. Then if things get out of our favor -- we got guns.

We headed to the location and landed on a scene of cops and bedlam everywhere -- MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!