Northern_Lights_2017

35 That’s why I fuck with Z-rock—he always has what I need. If not I always got my back up people. Never know when the next drought will hit or when the border will tighten up. Until then, though, Z-rock is the only person who I shop with. Speaking of the devil—I just pulled up. Usually I’ll just go park in the back alley behind his house but today he wants me to park out front. When I get out back I see why the whole alleyway is bumping right now. It’s like a McDonald’s drive- through—no joke. So I go back inside the main house till the back alley and garage clear out. I’m not about showing my face when there is people around me I don’t know. Especially in this type of situation. So I just sit back roll a blunt and wait for the traffic to clear. It does and when it does I head out back to the garage. Finally it gets to the point where it is just Z-rock, his brother, and his old lady that is around. This works perfectly for me because now I can speak freely, which is the way I like it. So I ask him, “What’s good on the next shipment”? He turns from talking to his old lady to me—to tell me that I should expect it to arrive within the next couple of days. This being said, I turn to leave knowing all the dope is gone. I’m not worried about it. Like I said I don’t even like moving that shitty little product that got the whole world acting crazy. How do you say? Oh, I remember now; I believe the way to put it is that it really is not my forte. Plus, I still have a couple pounds of Kush and about 100 or so Xanax bars or so sitting around so it’s not like I can’t turn a profit on my other ventures. With these thoughts I decide it’s time to go. Just as I go to step out the door I hear someone say, “Yeah that’s the house right there—let’s do this shit—these motherfuckers don’t even know what’s coming.” I go to turn to my dude to tell him what’s up, but he already knows. They are on the other side of the garage door closest to Z-rock. Without a second thought I grab my pistol from my waist, look at him, quietly signal for him to open the garage door. As soon as he does I start blasting. No better deterrent for a thief in the night than the beautiful sound of 40 slugs leaving the barrel of my pistol to light their asses up. With bullets whizzing past that ass they all take off running down the alley. They almost make it around the corner of the next house, but they’re not quick enough. Z-rock fires off a couple rounds which end up dropping one of their crew. We wait a couple of seconds to see if they are going to help their homeboy out. It becomes apparent that they left him for dead. At this point we put up our hoods and walk into the alley. The darkness of the night penetrating the ever cold streets. I’m not too worried about anyone seeing anything, but that doesn’t mean that someone didn’t hear anything. That’s what I’m worried about. I need to find out one little thing, though, first: who this little motherfucker is and quick. I walk up to ask Z-rock what the dude had to say but he isn’t talking. That is something I plan to fix. I’m not playing and I don’t particularly have time for this shit, I tell him as I hold the barrel of my gun under his balls. All the while a big smile plastered across my face. He gets the message loud and clear. It doesn’t take long to find out who is responsible for the attempted robbery. He flipped on his homies quicker than the bullet that hit his ass. That’s how it usually goes and for that I have no respect for this man. So I give him a proper burial like he deserves—alone, in the dark, bleeding out with nothing but the darkness to latch onto. With that last thought I take out the gut hook blade I keep at my ankle. To slowly drag it across his belly. I look up from my work to say something. Then I realize that words have no meaning for the dead: There is no use for words where he’s going. I look down at the man dying as the lights leave his eyes, blood pooling at my feet. Satisfied, I walk into the darkest folds within the shadows of this abysmal night.