Fear That Gives Men Wings......

Only true heads to the game know what that means above. I took a hard fall down my stairs today (laugh now- go ahead...) I twisted my ankle like a muthafucka, think I popped something. I got up quickly to see how bad it was and damn, as soon as I got up to my feet, I dropped down again. My fucking ankle looks like a tennis ball is attached to it. Now I am at work, with a icepack strapped to it. Yup, that's right yall, I'm still working with a bad wheel. Mo money, no problems. Sucks having to stay in the house with the type of weather we are having, warm without being muggy, hot without being sticky. Perfect ball playin weather, and me? Stuck in the house with an ankle that feels like the aftermath of that scene in Misery, you know the one.

Let's talk about yesterday for a minute, got a call from one of my friends from the "Team" now the team is a group of females who are some of my closest friends whom I had the pleasure of receiving help or helping out from time to time, whether it be boostin, takin care of a opposite gender issue (crazy exboy/girlfriends etc.) and most importantly making the best out of a mediocre situation. Anyway, a few months back, i received a call from one of my friends who had an issue with her now ex-boyfriend who had her jumped while she was pregnant. Now, I don't take too kindly to domestic disputes, especially when there is a third party involved with no knowledge of whats going on. So I took the name, and address and all that other shit I need to ruin his life piece by piece and headed to see my good ole white collar crime buddy from Uptown. He took care of messing up his credit, and red flagging him on any checks he plans on writing in the future. The physical was up to me. I had known what block this dude was on because I had one of my peoples track him leaving his job. This block was whack, all these cats I know, bunch of pussies with both parents at home, trying to be rappers living out their lyrics. Anyway, I show love to the OG considering I'm about to beat the shit out of one of his workers, I needed to let him know why to earn the pass. I went to school wit dude so we already had respect for each other. I greet him with a hit of my haze and he's like "thought you moved" I say I did, but I got some shit to take care of this way. He gives me this look like "me?". I say nah, but I got an issue with this kid (R*) it seems as though he wanted to live like Ike and fucked my homegirl up. My man looked at me with that look as though his moms just got slapped and said "Really? he's been snappy lately, like someone put some hot shit under his tongue, said he was having problems with his girl or some shit like that. He beatin her now? Damn Wood, you know we don't get down like that here, but you know that's my girls lil cousin, I never liked dude anyway." I take a few puffs of the el, and look at kid make another sale in the alley, I lower my head and say there's more...she was 2 1/2 months pregnant. "WHAT? You playin right?" nah dude, he flipped cause she told him she didn't want no drug dealin father for her child, she said he went off and punched the shit out of her, and for the finale, kicked her ass down some steps. That's what brings me here. "damn son, this shit is fucked up. Look I'll let you do whatever, just don't kill him or cut off anything I wouldn't know how to explain that to my girl" I say you have my word, give me only ten minutes. I went to the car and got some pliers and a hammer, only things I needed for this trip. I saw my man Chubbs come out of the alley and I asked him where R* was and he said he in the spot baggin up, I asked him if the haze was still poppin (gotta throw em off) and he said "yeah, he still movin dimes of that now, he back there just knock man" I asked who was with him cause I ain't into back alleys and robbin, so whassup? he smiles and says "nah Wood, it's cool here, we cool man, he by himself just holla, he a bitch anyway." damn, another one who thinks the same way. I knock on the door and of course homeboy lets me in. I ask him about copping two oz. of haze and he says come on. Brings me to the back room leading...I have the hammer and I clock his ass right in the back of the knee Kerrigan style. He drops and I stand over him with that look like the head was next, he starts with the pleading and crying and the whereabouts of all the money and product. I say shut the fuck up and turn over, he does and I ask him if he knows (________) he says yeah, and I punched him right in the jaw, the next shot was a kick in the same jaw just to make sure it was broke. I then took the pliers and proceeded to break off nails and shit so it would look like someone else got to him. I then used the hammer to break his thumb, middle, and pinky fingers on both hands. He was pretty loud, so I put his ass in the closet with clothes over him so no one could hear him crying like a bitch, I then took a good handful of haze for myself and bounced. If there was any time where I felt more satisfied after a violent act, well this is the one, but for the record I can't say that I used pliers before on a person, try it sometime, that's some shit.

Anyway, the war is not over yet, on the real, as a former Marine, I've learned that America is a bunch of nosy asses, almost every war we have been in was one we jumped in. Nothing to do with us directly. This one is some bushhit (thats bullshit Bush style). My view on the war? Three things:

1. You can't beat a fucking suicide bomber, period.
2. How in the hell do you support fighting, when YOU never fought?
3. Didn't we provide funding for their arms?

Oh there's more but that's not for now. Either way, you can always talk shit behind a desk while your fellow Americans go to bat and die for this country, or you or whatever the fuck reason they are overseas right now. Terrorism is here as well, and if the plane that hit the towers came from Boston, then why the fuck are we over there again?

In all actuality it's fear that gives men wings.

I need to apply heat on the ankle right now. Much love to all my peoples out there, K* holla at me, King? I've been there with the change bruh, it's even worse when you have $200 in quarters to give to a 25 year old teller who you used to have a crush on in high school.

I'm out like a drunk's tooth after finding some vice grips.

Da Champ