[No problem, i only sat here hitting 'refresh' for like a WEEK!]

'Mutha-fuckah...'

I sit up as Cole goes down, both my hands on the back of my head as the serious wound to my skull knits closed.

'Oh shit Joey-boy, look-it this shit.'

I reach down grabbing Coles face, pulling his lips back to show Joey the fangs in his mouth.

Still using his knees as impromptu feet and dragging his shattered shins be hind him, Joey watches as  the impostor falls hard to the pavement and remains still.

"Foo musta thought it was Whiteboy Day. It ain't Whiteboy Day, is it B?"

The statement is made that much more surreal by the fact that Joey's skin is nearly the same shade as Cole's. He does even not bother to clean off the knife before shoving it back in the newspaper sheath in his belt at the small of his back.

As his partner-in-crime pries the dead-man's mouth open, Joey will blink at him a couple of times in rapid succession apparently not understanding the significance. He says, as though Beans had not figured this out.

"Yo man. Them ain't gold. You gotta check the wallet, and the left sock. Muthafackuhs always be puttin shit in they left sock."

This of course means that Joey stashes shit in his left sock, and the concept draws his attention back to the region of his own person. Reaching to see if his sherm is still there, but having lost the adrenaline of the fight, the pain of two broken legs is what he finds.

"AAAAAAAAAgggghh!!! THAT DiRty MUtha-FaCKuH Done BRoke mah LEEEGGS!!!"

Joey nearly hurls himself onto his back, screaming and carrying on. Not that this is anything new for Joey.

'Be still mothahfuckah!'

I shout at Joey, hes going to attract even more attention carrying on like he is. Luckily this is a crackhouse and the hood round here is deep, noone sees shit, ever.

First things first I gotta get Joey outa the street. Lucky for me I outwight him by at least 90 pounds and can man-handle his cracker ass right up the steps and into the building.

'Yo call Zaine, aight?'

I tells Joey as i flip him my phone. I head outside to grab up Crackah-ass Cole. His butts gonna bleed on the rug, but that happens.

As soon as Beans fails to show Joey any sympathy whatsoever for his two ruined legs, he immediately ceases his wailing. It is doubtful he feels anywhere near the amount of pain that he should with all the drugs he has in his system, but if there was a chance that he could play it up and get a few days down-time to go hog-wild on some of the really heavy stuff he's got stashed, well it was worth a shot.

Beans isn't having any of it though, likely he's seen Joey cry wolf too many times before, and Joey just does not recall. Either way, Joey is disappointed.

"Ay-eet dawg. Damn. Ain't gotta be yellin' at people n' shit. Chill."

Joey catches the thrown cell and just lays down on the sidewalk, flipping through the contacts until he finds 'Boss Hoss' and hits call. As soon as Beans drops out of sight through the door, Joey vents his frustration over the loss of his potential drug binge, albeit very quietly so Beans does not hear.

"Fuckin' con-den-send ta me, man... I'll fuckin' stab you with an umbrella.... An' then open it. right in yo butthole. I've done it before man, I'm telling you. Peel yo cap nigguh. I peels caps all. day. long. mo'fuckah. they used to call me the KING! Big King Wheeler Cap Peeler. Bettuh rekonize. You fuch around and end up like Jamal's folded-ass. You see what happened to him when he fucked wif me...."

This self inflation of his ego will continue in a steady stream until Beans reemerges from the building, or Zaine picks up.

Zaine answers after seven rings, "Speak."

Joey quickly stops his rant when the big man answers and tries to remember why he called in the first place.

"Whut up dawg. Yo man, we got some crackuh-ass bitch that came rollin' up on our hood tryin'a act like he know sumthin'. Muthafucka broke my legs. Iss all good tho' I stabbed him in his butthole. Beans says the muthafucka ain't dead tho, he's jus' 'sleep. Beans says the muthafuckah ain't human, he like you. Beans says I had to call an' tell you. You herd? So whutup dawg? Whatchoo wan' us ta do yo?"

There is silence on the line as he figures out what the fuck this crackhead tried to say.
"Put the blunt out, get him in the trunk and get to the plantation in the next fifteen minutes."

Zaine hangs up and waits for them to show up.

Joey stares at the phone for a moment, still just sitting in the middle of the sidewalk on account of his two broken shins. He cranes his torso and neck around, trying to locate Beans and unable to lay eyes on him begins to stare intently at his shattered limbs, trying to remember what Beans once told him about fixing himself.

"Quit playin' yo!" He says sternly to his right leg. "C'mon foo! We gots ta git! Zaine gonna whip yo ass six ways till Sunday you don't quit bein' a bitch." he says matter-of-factly to the left.

[Spend 1BP to Heal, Joey is now at Wounded -2]

Joey cries out in surprise and pain at the rapid reconstruction of the bones in one of his legs. "Ahhhhh Dayumm! That shit hurts man!Yo B... I think you need to carry me Dawg!"

'You gotta be fuckin kiddin me homes.'

Im realizin right about now that if Joey was a midget, hed be one weird motherfucker. Hes weird anyway, but hed be downright, hide-ya-baby weird. Straight Creeper.

Coles bitch ass has been deposited in the Escalade we roll in these days. Luckily this is a chill neighborhood. Noone calls the cops when its a white-boy who gets clapped. Especially when its one of us, we dont play nice. We park in front of houses and shoot until the goddamn foundation crumbles.

Then we eat yo baby!

Least thats what I told the mouthy Ho out front who mentioned po-pos. Im gettin sick of carryin fools. But at least Joey isnt as big as Cole and I know he wont bite me. Hes gettin bodyslammed down the stairs if he even makes a wedding joke though. Ill hoist my homeboy and bring him to the ride too, legs all danglin and shit. The boss aint gonna be happy with us tonight...  

--Last edited by Beans on 2009-02-21 08:29:01 --