Sunday, April 17, 2011

Treioux

 "BERETATATATATA" burstfire clips on the scene of my den, damn ho must ave got abducted else i can't find no reason to why they find us, denzien crack fiends take that Methamp to chase em on motor bikes, racin down murciellago boulevard brandish gatstraps automatic tag team killin the riders and the tires, she crashes deep hard into a dear tree, and the cripples can't move, Jaxo flips a roach in their gas tank and closes the cap to run for the 5 seconds it has before the car explodes, engine still running but sputtering. Robbed car only amounted 67 dollars and a few jippo jappo peices, dirty as hate, so they stay, they burn the paper in the pyre, and stare at beauty, dumbfounded. Ain't no police in unsanctioned zones, takes an hour for anyone to show up, and my bikers all ready back to the crib to start running. They do.

    By now it's about 3 a.m and i know Roxy is still workin and suzanne is probably sleepin in some motel, so i run back to the trap in the jag and pick my little girl up, tell her i got the man, and she's safe. When it's a game of pimps and ho's, every pimp knows never to kill a ho, so they sit like sheep. Only seems white men needen powder and a good fuck come aoround so late, some of em twice, so she rolls in bout 500 a night, with Big Rig goin around the country playing fetch and crop on his Maryjane wonderland he tosses up deuces every time and keeps on rolling. Tasting shrooms from the burrows and cutting the ripe. rolling underground with the forest militia, thrown out in the wilds like animals. Now my ho's are safe at home and i can finaly rest, Tyé still methed out and noddin like a gremlin, starin out the upper door windows, sitting on the stairs, porchlight on blacklight, little lumineers and colorful globes lighting up the pathway.

 I don't see anybody dead, so i walk right up with my bitch in my arm and take her to the warm indoors sitting fancy with red checker carper, soft corduroy antique couch from my grandfather, bloodstained red velvet was always my thing. Police never come but the phone it always rings, I let my ho's gripe for a while before i tell them i'm done with it, and hit the schnapps, laying down slow with deaf toes, cold blind and numb from the weather. Fireplace smoking we light our blunts with it, mine pure green, the ladys and Tyére smoking white lace pure. "figure we tossed enough rock to kill a few militantes. " slowly and passively mulling my thoughts as though we had anything else to do but slang and bang all night. Bookshelf windows like bulletproof armor, my son sits in the crows nest, a nestled corner of the attic with perfect street view, with my corner block hopper always calling cars on the 2 way. Gunner is sharp, keen, and well witted. We throw him a Garand and the man is a top shot. always pop the tire, damn fiends get angrier every day. Could swear i should've cooked the crack with absinthe and arsenic. metal detector tazer/sprinkler brings the pain on any trespassers, ham usually takes down the sights from 3 blocks down. and Gunner an just aim and shoot, self defense. A lock up is a lock up ain't nobody comin in without a warrant, vacuum bags and bulletproof floor safes. By nightfall, most of the product is moved, at night the real hustlers bring out cardboard craps tables and roll bones for scraps of powder and deathhash. Most of it is snatch and grab, but no nigger i've seen ben able to outrun the speed of a bullet. kneecaps first, mercy second. We always put them up in a shopping cart and have dem Ho's push em out into the streets, 9 mile down hill for the riders, coasting steady ready to die. The streets are barren, cars never think to enter cold north Allegheny,  everybody knows what goes down, they take the bypass. The raging ghetto of peices and poverty reigns still, and war rages at every hour of the day, flamboyant ostentatious negros playing true color gangbangin tracks get ousted on old 86, every fiend in the state of the york trying to drop it all on the line for the gingercrack. Snipes got hold ups between billboards, hammocks and a treestand holding clutch positions pointing guns out of holes for eyes, stay in touch with the hamm, just killer green to calm the nerves, some of them popping pills, all of them militiamen trained in the art.

Gangs rule York, the york is all colors and pride, Mexicans and puerto ricans hold cock fights, the niggers play craps and the bangers just kill people. The true money comes out of the clubs, all mobs and mafia, the asians running the one train of pure bone down from port city, the fabled land of international impunity running bone for the "hospital". Most non affiliated whites have left the scene doing only white collar capitalism extorting the few old rich, the new died out do to the drug war, ingrained and implanted from Mexico.

It took six years for the mexican mafia to overrule the previous standing gangs of york by pure blood lust, belligerence , and crank, straight from the sewers they own the underground network of trafficking gone unnoticed by the police. The higherups of the mafias fled back to china or italy, and the Irish back to boston. All of them practically powerless over the new regime. Mexico had legalized drugs in an effort to quell the civil war, and with that, their only cash crops turned to drugs, and their only intention was to cripple the populous of the united states. The restless abandoned were the first to go, most died within weeks of the begenning of the free KAMP giveaway, a so called reatsie with mexico calling KAMP the cureall. Honestly it made people into hopeless delerious speed freaks. One man i know was chasing cars like a dog and honestly just started stealing them, the cops were all corrupt because the latinos had majority rule and all the irish fuzz went eastward where they rule with the iron fist and heavy hands. With the chinese controlling the far east exports the price of opium was always on a cataclysmic rise as all of east asia experienced a 1920's era heroin rampart, so hardly any of it went to the states. Mexico was number two, they cut poppy with dirt and china white and the disgusting chinese candy was now laced with Methylfentanyl. With their clans all taking opiates to the dome every day, the pacifism showed when the poor would riot and the leaders would stay in the underground. Wars became brutal, as hundreds of people were dying every night for their cause, and York slipped into Gang run anarchy. People would lose all initative to work or do anything productive and the economy simply stopped. The drug trade was all black market and every nations GDP would slowly plummet. Only in mexico were there efficient taxes run by the cartels bringing money to the state and essentially controlling the American drug trade with applied eugenics regarding Gregor Mendel and genome splicing. With this dope they were able to corrupt the government and the general workforce, and the war would still rage between dogmatic Americans and the second amendment and underground terrorists. This all still happens to this day. Still we stand with a small outpost of rural farmers and underground chemists who produce the classical drugs and bring them into the hands of the outcast and the bourgeois essentially creating an underground movement for peace and pacifism, as most small towns are negligible, the cartels and the mafias pass them over for the main hubs of import an export, thoroughly maintained through the port cities mainly, LA, and NYC. The rebels who fight for confederate rights and wish to see all states laws abandoned are fairly well met with the complete lack of police, after all police became bought out by any of the major crime families, people no longer feared or resented the law, as they were just glorified gang bangers.  This meant to a rebel the police were kill on sight. And that we did.

No comments:

Post a Comment