THE DRIP CAPITAL
Prologue
The nerve of these niggas Gang!! What?! Who told you that Atlanta was only about snap, crackle, and pop music, country-grammar, swag lingo and strip clubs?! Niggas say us Southerners are slow.
Yeah, we slow ai'ight Shawdy. Slow to speak but fast at listenin'!! That shit so cap! Hugeee difference Lil' Buddy!!
And since you have been misinformed about the spot, let me take this moment to put you up on Drip! We turnt up to the max Shawdy!! Fasten your seat belts and enjoy this ride around the City as you see for yourselves what the A is all about!! A-Town stand the fuck up!!
"Lames sit the fuck down!! Welcome to the place I call home!! WELCOME TO THE A - WELCOME TO THE HOME OF THE DRIP - THE DRIP CAPITAL!!!"
Chapter One
"Who is that Mama?!" Chill Will inquisitively asked.
"Oh baby that's just Fathead and 'em having fun with their new toys," Pumpkin reminded her ten year old son.
"Look Mama! They got four-wheelers and motorcycle bikes!" Chill excitedly screamed out to his mother.
Though in the back of Pumpkin's mind, she did not want her young son to grow up and be like any of those teenage street drug dealers. She had aspirations of him finishing high school, along with college. Truth be told, the mean and tough streets of Atlanta had indeed detoured so many young African American women and men from discovering their one true oyster-pearl, better known as: 'Success'. As with Chill Will's mother Pumpkin, she too had been robbed of the opportunity to completely finish high school due to her unplanned pregnancy. To complicate matters even further, she was only fifteen years of age when little Chill Will was conceived. During her pregnancy, she made the dreadful decision to run away from home because of irreconcilable differences with her mother. These differences usually led to verbal and psychological warfare followed by a series of hard hitting knuckled clenched fist fights shared between these two.
Trish, as she was called and known by was Pumpkin's mother. Trish had given birth to Pumpkin at the quite so tender age of thirteen. So instead of these two having a meaningful and significant mother and daughter relationship, they viewed each other as being sisters due to the slight marginal age gap between them. Besides this issue, Pumpkin completely despised the fact of Trish having and keeping so many random men in and out of her bedroom at night. Trish turned tricks and sold pussy and whatever else she needed to do to get by. She worked mainly over on Stewart Avenue. This hustle had paid her weekly and monthly bills for as long as she could remember. Several of the men whom she routinely brought over to her house to entertain between the walls inside her small compact home, were middle-aged lascivious freaks in whom were actually willing and ready to pay whatever price she wanted just to get their sexual orgasms off. Many of these same men tried their hand at Pumpkin through detestable and pedophilic sexual advances. She constantly would inform Trish each and every time these sick incidences would occur. Trish playing coy and absent-minded instead of most concerned detective, paid all of her daughter's cries and pleas no never mind once they were brought up for serious and critical discussion. Subsequently, Pumpkin eventually fled away from their home to go live with a then in time, close childhood friend. Momentarily she lived right off Simpson road.
It was at this residence in where she met Chill Will's father Chip. Chip was a ruthless and quite dangerous made nigga who got dumb rich years ago from hustling heroin inside of a man-eating million-dollar trap called 'New Jack' inside an area of the city known as: 'The Bluff'. The nigga was rich but irresponsible. Chip valued money over women. In his mind, as long as his bag was all the way up, bitches would automatically flock to him with no hesitation. His eyes and mind was focused solely on accumulating vast amounts of untold paper money rubber band knots he had no earthly idea on what to do with, once it bundle-stacked to unimaginable heights. Although Chip's weight was up, his priorities were not. He fathered several babies around the city and genuinely thought that he was God's personal gift to the world. Many of the women he had impregnated, their full-government names he did not know. Chip knew all too well that these very exact same women had feasted not only their eyes, but that warm and wet spot between their legs on him because he was now helplessly considered a 'Money-God', who had the financial wherewithal and ability to relieve them from their agonizing and not so promising ghetto conditions. This theory held absolutely no merit or credibility involving Pumpkin. She was an exception to this rule. Chip never did just like so many other dope boys in the city of Atlanta, take the necessary and required time to figure and sort all this out. Pumpkin eventually shortly after the birth of Chill Will, realized that she had made the natural mistake of becoming involved with Chip and his childish and immature ways. Nevertheless, she came to the conclusion to move further down the strip to call 'Paines Avenue' her new home.
In fact, Pumpkin and Chill Will stood curbside along this street as Fathead and his speed monsters popped wheelies, and brandished off their new two-wheel and four-wheel hell razor companions. Pumpkin prayed that Fathead would not stop to try to talk to her. Besides, he was also close buddies with Chip, Pumpkin baby's father. She had mentioned to Chip that Fathead was trying his damndest to get inside her panties. Chip would always blow it off whenever she used to advise him of it. But as an arrogant, conceited and flamboyant nigga, the words that spewed forth from her mouth, rolled right off his back just as water does a duck once it exits out of any body of water. Fathead and his posse were famously known for trapping and distributing all over the westside of the A. His crew members wore big thick-knotted up dreads that swung and extended a little pass their shoulders.
Before Pumpkin's wishful thought could magically disappear, her worst fear had indeed become an unexpected reality. The irony of this is that Fathead, as if he could somewhat sense Pumpkin's uninvited invitation, subconsciously, cat-walked his bike up the block and came back speeding down the block like hell until he reached her residence. His bike came to an abrupt halt almost immediately upon arriving curbside to where Pumpkin and Chill Will stood. Fathead's other partners goofed around while doing silly stunts, like blowing rings of tire smoke as they circled each other in 360 full-circle spins. Acts and performances like these will usually call for and demand the attention of any neighboring crowd of people. In this case, the crowd of attendees who stood out further up the block, were completely blown away and awe-stricken by these speed-stunting demons' spectacular street bike performances. This brief delay also afforded Fathead the glorious opportunity to kick some fruitilicious game inside of Pumpkin's ears. As far as he was concerned, his only motive was to squeeze inside the sweet and tight vaginal folds of her pink wetness. Besides, she was a redbone in his honest opinion, who needed to firsthand experience the open-handed smacking you on your ass hand impressions, he wanted to personally hand out himself, if she ever allowed him that once in a lifetime pleasure of hitting her from the back. Truth be told, redbone asses were quite easy to bruise during rough and rugged no holds-barred while screaming out for God types of sex! Chip, not knowing how to conceal certain details about his private and very intimate love life, used to discuss very candidly his sexual conquests with all his boys. Let Chip tell it, Shawdy had that 'Fire'! Nevertheless, Fathead was a treacherous nigga who was destined to find out!
"Vrooom! Vrooom!" Fathead's bike ferociously sounded as he reared its gears.
"Nigga don't be revving that bike up like that in front of my son! Are you fuckin' crazy?!" Pumpkin shouted out over the sound of the roaring Kawasaki's monstrous redesigned engine. He immediately silenced the noise in an attempt to adhere to Pumpkin's loudly audible request. He then spoke.
"Sorry 'bout that Lil' Buddie. Anyway, Pumpkin what the fuck goin' Shawdy?!" Fathead asked as one of his feet rested on the foot bar and the other planted on the ground.
"Nothin'," she coldly replied.
"C'mon now. Is that how you supposed to treat a man when he asks you somethin' as simple as what's happenin'?! Shawdy you got some nerve," Fathead stated.
"A man?! Boy please!! You so god-damn cap! The only man I see and acknowledge out here right now is my son Chill Will, who's standing right here beside me! He is only ten but he's more manly than you'll ever be!!" Pumpkin fired off. Fathead brushed the insult off. He proceeded as if Pumpkin had not just made her outlandish comments and remarks.
"Now let's try this again. Pumpkin what the hell goin' Shawdy?!" he asked again, but way much more aggressively. Pumpkin then mumbled under her breath sarcastically: "I don't know what got these niggas thinking they're entitled," she said as she folded her arms and cuffed her hands beneath her armpits.
"Hmm... Now what was that Lil' Buddie?! You said somethin', huh?" Fathead replied to the indistinct comment Pumpkin had just made. He then extended his hand in a polite gesture as a means to unfold and unlock one of her arms, which she had cradled across her bosom. Pumpkin quickly took a step back while managing to successfully avoid the physical contact he so desperately wanted to execute at this particular moment.
"Nigga, don't be tryin' to touch me with your trifling-ass!" Pumpkin yelled as Chill Will just stood back drooling and awing over the pretty-colored lime green bike. His little eyes then traveled to Fathead's long and thick sun-burned and bleached-colored looking nappy locks.
"Boy take your eyes off his bike! I told you I'm gonna buy you one when you get big enough to get your driver's license! Now didn't I?!" she reminded Chill Will while softly and gently tugging at his arm to get him away from the conspicuous Class-M one seater thrill rider.
"But Mama!" the determined little shorty screamed out in defense to his up-close curiosity.
"Don't Mama me! Get away from him and his bike boy!!" Pumpkin shouted as they engaged in a loving and concerned Mother/Determined Son tug-a-war match.
"Let the lil' nigga get a close look at this bike if he wants to Pumpkin. Quit acting all stank and stuck-up. Besides, if you plan on buying him one when he gets old enough to ride, then what's the problem with him taking a close look at all these exotic features my bike boasts of right now? You too extra Shawdy", Fathead asked and subtly suggested all in the same sentence. Pumpkin, being just slightly convinced by this logic, smacked her lips in response.
"While you thinking Shawdy, you might as well let me start swingin' by here to scoop the lil' nigga so we can begin our first bike lessons. I'll teach him how to ride and drive this vicious mu'fucka with no problem Shawdy!" Fathead's logic had now become a bunch of science pulp-fiction. Pumpkin waved her hand around erratically as she moved in closer to Fathead. She violently shoved his arm, almost causing him to lose his balance and footing.
"Nigga I wish I would let my son hang out with you and the rest of your no-good ass partnas! I'm raising my boy the right way! He's going to college! Chill is not gonna be just another petty-ass street thug! Fuck you and this goddamn bike! If he chooses to learn how to ride a piece of shit ass bike, then I'll show him how all by my mu'fuckin' self! You hear me?!" Pumpkin warned and instructed Fathead of how things were gonna be with her and her household as she drove her index-finger hard into Fathead's chest.
"Shawdy it feels good to touch a real nigga, don't it?! That shit there made you cream all over ya'self, huh?!" Fathead sarcastically asked and implied. Pumpkin who now was infuriated by his obscene outbursts that he was making while in front of her son, forcefully shoved Fathead's upper torso area. He had no business or reason to be disrespecting her like that, especially in the presence of Chill Will! Fathead's behavior was not welcomed, nor will it be tolerated any much longer either.
"Nigga don't you ever disrespect me like that in front of my child! You hear me?!" Pumpkin threatened.
"Whoa! Hold up Shawdy! Keep ya damn hands to ya'self! Fuck is up Shawdy?!" Fathead shouted. He continued.
"You right though. That's my bad lil' man. I'm sorry ai'ight," he sincerely said as he apologized to Lil' Chill Will. Chill Will's enormous fascination for bikes had completely temporarily nullified all of his hearing faculties. The explicit and complicit adult-talk had without a doubt went flying right over his head.
"Huh?" was all the little guy could say because his mind had drifted way off into 'bike-bike' land.
"Never mind lil' nigga," Fathead blurted out while trying to pat the awe-inspired little happy soldier on the top of his head. Pumpkin with a lightning swift reaction moved Chill Will out of Fathead's arm reach.
"Don't you fuckin' touch him either nigga! Fathead I ain't playin' with yo ass! I mean it! You gonna make me fuck you up!" an angry and disgruntled Pumpkin screamed out as she now stood nose-to-nose with her challenger.
"Calm down Shawdy with your feisty behind ass! If you come any closer to my lips, I'm gonna kiss yo red-ass Pumpkin! Fo'real now Shawdy! I ain't bullshittin' either! Pucker up like the white folk say Shawdy! Mmmwaw!" Fathead said as he shut his eyes and poked his lips out, pretending to kiss. Pumpkin got even by slapping him hard in his face.
"Goddamn now Shawdy! You startin' to play rough now Shaw—-!" he yelled out as he could not contain his laughter.
"C'mon Chill, let's go back in the house boy! C'mon here!" Pumpkin shouted to dispel her son from this powerful Kawasaki's motorcycle spell that was being fiercely cast upon Chill Will's little bike-riding imagination. As Pumpkin and Chill Will turned to walk away, they heard multiple tire and engine noises along with other loud and wild-sounding commotions that filled the air. It was Fathead's gang of niggas in whom he was getting to the bag with, making their way back down the block. They all stopped at where Fathead was parked in perfectly rowed columns. Fathead then cranked his bike and revved the engine. He allowed the vibrations to stabilize all the way out into the atmosphere. He looked over in Pumpkin's direction and then spoke again.
"As I said Pumpkin, what the fuck goin' Lil' Buddie?! Can a nigga come back over and spend a lil' quality time?!" he uninvitingly asked.
"Ain't shit like I mu'fuckin' told your bum ass just seconds ago! What makes you think anything has changed since then?! Don't stop by my mu'fuckin' house no more! I betcha I'll burn that ass baby! Oh... And don't let me tell Chip cause he'll wet that ass up too! And you know it! Trust and believe that boo! Why don't you find you one of those cheap ass pussy-sellin' nickel bag tramps you been fuckin'!! Nigga I'm not with it!" Pumpkin shouted as she and Chill made way to their front porch.
"Oh, you mean like one of those hoes that be sellin' ass like your Mama Trish?!" Fathead fired back. His niggas were seated on their bikes laughing and making 'Ooh's and Aah's sounds at how Pumpkin and Fathead went back and forth at each other's throats during their verbal assault battle.
"Don't be talkin' to my Mama like that! And don't you talk bad about my grandma! I'm gonna tell my Dad nig-ga!" Little Chill Will warned Fathead and his men.
The bike spell had worn off and now he was paying very close attention. He broke free from Pumpkin and grabbed an empty colt forty-five malt liquor bottle and slung it aimfully at Fathead and his crew. The bottle missed them but the broken glass shattered inches away from them. After this act, Chill Will hurriedly ran onto the porch to catch up with his Mother.
Pumpkin placed her son's hand inside her very own as she hung her head down in shame. While Pumpkin and Chill Will entered through the threshold, Fathead and his team went dangerously and carelessly speeding down the street without having the slightest regard for valuing human pedestrians who may have been out and about on the stroll. Children could have been trying to enjoy the beautiful innocence of their precious childhoods, by pedaling big wheels, tricycles, and other battery-operated cars they loved riding. As for Fathead and his clique, they couldn't care less, being that they were self-proclaimed lawless men.
That is the opening. The sample continues free — take it with you.