Suicide Kings vs Peckerwood schemes pt. 2

I’d like to say that in this thirty-minute walk to see the O.G., I contemplated some deep shit or practiced what I’d say but I didn’t. I felt my body ache with each step and wished I’d taken a road joint from the guys. As I walked up to the O.G.’s house though, one thought did present itself.

“Mane, I hope this muthafucka don’t beat my ass.”

I rang the doorbell. The multiple deadbolts opening before the door does…

I didn’t bring up the meth lab as I spoke to the Big Homie, sitting at the kitchen table. I brought up our loyalty and hustle. I talked up all the little brothers, but amplified the fact G, TJ and I were always down to ride when Homie or the other O.G.’s called. I went on for thirty minutes, finding more confidence as I spoke.

Big Homie sat there, sipping beer from a martini glass, just staring at me; the confidence leaving me quickly as he held the silence for what felt like an eternity.

“Slick told me about the lab,” Big Homie said.

“Ya’ll don’t wanna get crumbs anymore? The pressure don’t come from the licks we hit, the pressure comes from the pigs if they catch us up.”

Building my courage, I said “Yes, sir. I know, and they know how the game go. And Suicide Kings never fold.”

The O.G. wasn’t impressed. Hell, he’d seen people, family or not, fold when the law is trying to give them a hundred years or more.

I didn’t say anything but I swore he could hear my heart pounding in my chest; and he must’ve liked the beat because he let that shit echo through the room for an hour before he spoke again.

“Y’all lil homies wanna level up, I’ll give you a shot. Get with Slick and map out the lab. Hit the lick and y’all get 30% to split. Handle this right and we’ll give you a higher cut next round.”

I looked into his emotionless face and knew that no part of this conversation was a negotiation, so I agreed cheerfully and excused myself from his home. I was not about to let him change his mind or add any stipulations.

I strolled my happy ass back to the part to find TJ and G long gone, so I took a stroll toward G’s house with no real sense of urgency. There’s gonna be a lot of long days and nights ahead. A lot of sitting and waiting, but it’s gonna be worth it.

Stopping at the gas station to grab some chicken, I stood by the ice machine eating and people watching. The evening brought all the ballers, players, whores and crackheads through this gas station. Plying their hustles or showing off the fruits of those hustles.

I wanted to rob all of them but that’s bad business, so like my bag of chicken, I was keeping it to myself.

I floated around a bit longer before ending up at G’s, tapping on his bedroom window.

No answer.

I waited a few minutes, tapping once more before leaving. Their bikes weren’t under his window so I had a good idea where they were. Grabbing mine, I peddled off in the suspected direction.

Gliding silently through the night was relaxing until you started seeing ghosts, but I didn’t see any yet, as I went towards the very back of the massive graveyard. A few minutes later I came upon the dynamic duo drinking King Cobra and smokin.

Dropping my bike on theirs, I sat down and listened in silence as they argued over some bullshit that didn’t matter. I thought of the lab and the possibilities.

We needed proper equipment and a ton of bullets, you know, just in case. Plus, bullets have no expiration date.

“What the big homie say?” G asked, snapping me out of my little world.

I broke everything down to them and as soon as I did, the jovial atmosphere got serious. We all knew what was at stake and we wanted nothing less than everything.

The night crept on. TJ snuck into his house and G and I headed towards the main drag.

It was too late for the normal throng of people and cars showing out, up and down the boulevard and the crackheads take up their door stoops in front of closed stores.

Cutting righto n the intersection, we were disappointed to find the BBQ spot closed, so we rode on, ignoring all the bum ass dope fiends trippin balls or asking for a dollar.

“Yo, I got an idea,” G said.

I didn’t respond. Just kept cruising. I could only imagine the absurd shit he was thinking.

We pedaled a few more blocks and stopped looking down toward our destination. Faint traces of light came from boarded up windows on both sides of the street. One lone street light in the middle of the houses, beckoned like a crackhead lighthouse.

G had explained his idea and suicidal as I was, I agreed wholeheartedly.

I knew this could be a deadly stupid idea, but if G was telling the truth, we’d be set for our future project.

Stashing the bikes by a dumpster, we went to a side street and snaked our way through alleys, hoping not to run into anyone that wasn’t a dope fiend, and we didn’t. I was slightly surprised but relieved as we made it right across from the lone street light.

The house behind it has a broken chest-high chain ling fence surrounding the perimeter. Plywood covered every window and nothing illuminated any door. Just another adandoned house on a dying street in a city that doesn’t give a damn.

A slight noise behind us. I spin, reaching. G, snub nose drawn and ready, pints dead on a homeless guy in the middle of the alley, barely visible. The shadowy figure stumbling towards us and muttering to himself stops abruptly. His pants drop as he squats down. The sound reached me before the smell, but it didn’t prepare me for it. Did this guy eat road kill that’d been in the sun for a week!?

I could hear G gagging as we backed out of the alley onto the sidewalk. The bum walked right past us, muttering about Jesus and Oprah as he headed across the street.

My eye froze on the dark shadowy masses moving within the fence as the bum stood at the fence line. A light appeared for a second as someone stepped out the front door and shut it quietly. Scurrying down the yard, the figure met the bum with two massive demon dogs at his side. Soon as the mystery man went back into the shack, G took off towards a side window. Prying a board off, he opened the window up and we slid inside.

The smell of humid mold and dust choked me. Cracking on the flashlights, we searched the few rooms for any campers and settled down to peak through a window looking over at the dope house.

We sat there for 2 hours, just watching in silence. Occasionally, the guy would come out and go to the fence to push some dope. The dogs would roam the darkness until he did and would just trot to him and make no noise when he went back in.

I was dozing off sitting up when G shook me back awake. Getting up, he went to the room we entered from and dipped out the window as I stumbled to my feet and followed.

Making our way around the back of the house we neared the fence. G knelt down by it and waited. Sure enough, the two big ass demon dogs appeared in front of him. Their low growls rumbled through the night like an oncoming train. Producing a bag of something, G started feeding the dogs whatever it was and apparently the dogs loved it. After finishing, they just stood there. I was confused to what was going on, but I had to trust my friend. He said he had a plan.

Stupid, I know, but I’d done way worse for a lot less. I didn’t move until G jumped the fence and headed toward the back door of the house. 10 seconds and then I was over the fence stalking down the side towards the front door and settled behind a small bush. I tried to keep my breathing low and slow, my mind focused on each step of the plan.

The guy went down to the fence and the dogs appeared trotting towards him and a minute later they went back up the walkway, 10 feet towards the door I saw the dogs wobble beside him. 7 feet they trailed off. 4 feet away I realized how big this guy was. I’m a heavy kid that can drag adults in my weight class, but this bastard had me beat by a foot in height and at lease 50lbs. I had desperation and a pistol, so fuck this guy.

The light illuminated his face for a split second, **with shoving him in the back of the head through the doorway. He stumbled forward dramatically, falling towards the couch.

“Grab it and die, mutha fucka,” I said, cool as a cucumber. His hands fell away from the bottom of the couch, where a shotgun was stashed. The big guy turned to look at my ski-masked face and saw my pistol drawn and G with his raised off to my side, and realized he wasn’t going to win.

Laying his big ass down, we zip-tied his hands behind his back and started to clear the house. I was looking through a bedroom when I heard a woman scream and the rapid sound of footsteps on the wood floor. I sprund out the room to see a bitch coming around the corner into the living room, sprinting for an escape. It was short lived, as I slammed her to the ground and smashed my gun hand into her ear a few times.

G came over, bound her and picked her up, haphazardly tossing her on the couch beside the big guy.

After everything is clear, G searched the house for our prize. Sitting against the wall, I stared towards our bound host with no real feelings, just one more obstacle that had to be handled.

G finally popped out and walked towards the couch and grabbed the bitch by her hair, shoving the snub nose into the bitch’s gag, he looked at the guy; “Where’s it at or I kill the bitch and fuck her corpse.”

The guy wasn’t impressed at all. He just stared at G with the same cold look since this party first started. G stomped on the guy until I clapped a few times to get his attention. I wagged my finger at him and he backed off.

Digging in my pocket, I pulled out fingernail clippers and took the big guy’s shoes off. He tried to fight but after G kicked him a few times in the back of the head, he went limp and we zip tied his legs. G went off again to search and I tried like hell to wake the guy up. I mean, what’s the point of torturing someone who isn’t awake for it?

I had to check his breathing to make sure he wasn’t dead because nothing seemed to stir the giant. Then it dawned on me. It might not work, but hey, it’s worth a shot.

Taking the nail clippers, I bent in close to his face. His breathing was shallow and his eyes jerked behind closed lids. Placing the clippers at a slight angle into the guy’s nostril, I squeezed down hard on the handle.

Blood rushed into the wound but it didn’t stir him; so I made a cute pyramid cut. When I snipped the other side that big bastard felt it. Waking up like a drowning man, he thrashed around. I barely dodged a head butt as I jumped back. He finally realized his reality and stared blankly at me by his feet. I let out a whistle and G popped back around and helped with the big guy’s massive shoes.

“You walkin on two toddlers! Damn, you got big ass toes!” G said. “This is gonna be easy for us. Where’s it all at Big ‘Un, and we will be out your hair.”

The guy narrowed his eyes but kept silent.

G sat on the guy’s knees, facing toward him.

“Now, I ask you kind sir, where the goodies at?” G asked.

Not a word from our stubborn host. Grabbing the nail clippers to his big toe, I cut right above the nails quick. G asked the guy one more time.

Nothing.

I mean, it’s to be expected. Keep your mouth shut and maybe the guys would back down and leave, not really wanting to hurt someone.

Jamming the clippers into the nail quick, I started to separate the nail from the toe. Big guy started to tense a bit but boy, he had no idea yet…

G saw his face change and felt his legs tensing beneath him, but said nothing to the big guy.

I reached into G’s backpack and pulled out a Ziploc bag, while keeping the upward pressure on the turtle shell of a toenail. Opening the bag, I pulled out a thin wooden toothpick and slid it into the gap I created.

It ripped the tiny filaments that held the nail to the toe as I pushed it to the very base of the nail bed.

“Shit hurts don’t it?” G asked the man, as he tried desperately to pull his feet away from me. “It’s gonna get just a tad bit worse if you don’t tell me where it’s at.”

Still no response, so G signaled me to continue. Placing another toothpick beside the first, I slid it in. His big ass struggled even harder, but to no avail. I give it to him though, he stayed fairly silent besides the groans of pain that escaped involuntarily.

Sliding the third toothpick in, I heard a slight rip as the toenail tore almost halfway off. I clipped off the obstruction with enough room to continue holding up the gap I created.

Sinking a toothpick into the raw skin, I pushed it underneath the nail and then through. I sprung to my feel to avoid the flailing this time. If he thought that one hurt, the next one…oh boy, oh boy!

The fifth toothpick had him screaming behind the gag as I sat on his shins and shoved it in. Positioning the clippers better, I gave the nail a shard jerk up to detach it even more. We waited for the big guy to calm down and tell us what we wanted to know, but he didn’t break. Not even when G showed him bloody pieces of his toe nail.

Stabbing 2 of the toothpicks into the raw flesh of the exposed nail bed, blood pooled around.

The screaming behind the gag grew louder and turned to whimpers.

As I grabbed the big guy’s next toe, G stopped me and loosened the gag. G patted the guy’s chest and tried to soothe him.