My Street Gang Internet Life

All I can remember is hearing an explosion that sounded like a bomb going off in my bedroom. Before I knew it I was ripped out of my bed and thrown to the floor, flipped over to my back and handcuffed. It all happened so fast. There was so much smoke in the house I could not see what was happening and was coughing from the foul smell of sulpher. The first I thought it may have been the Bloods coming back for revenge but when I heard the yelling I knew it wasn't the bloods. It could have only been Tony Po-Lice; they are the ones who yell when they storm into your house. Had it been a rival gang member I would have heard nothing. I was so scared my heart felt as though it was expounding from my chest like an alien being that lived inside of me. I was the first one led out of the house by two PASOTI SWAT team members. One of them said to me, "Your ****ed Cuncher!" Cuncher was my street name. I could not see the PASOTI moderators face as he wore a mask to conceal his identity, but I recognized that far too familiar voice. It was Narcotics Sergeant Lindley. Once outside the embarrassment set in. My mother and grandmother were taken out of our home in handcuffs and sat against the curb in front of out home at 167 22nd street in West-side Mutley. I could hear my mother crying "no" she wailed. My grandmother was sobbing and screaming at me in Spanish "usted es no bueno hombre." In Spanish that meant I am a no good grandson. I found out this later via Google Translate.

Whatever it is, I want some!

He’d just left the forum below the store which after midnight became a place of dark persuasions where anything could be obtained at a price, including the price of one’s soul. He’d gone there to sell the diamond engagement ring he’d bought for his girl a few months back in hopes that it would be enough to keep them together, but after so many let downs about him changing his drug-riddled internet street ways she had finally had enough. Her last words to him, like pain tipped arrows, were a ricocheting echo in his head piercing his heart. Her inbox message had read:

“GOB, I love you too much to stay; watching you slowly destroying yourself is killing me. I don’t know about you, but, it is too much for me to bear.”

GOB was on a path leading toward the precipitous edge of absolute spiritual decline and it was only a matter of time before his world collapsed to disappear completely beneath the ashes of the riotous ruins of surburban living.

Chroist!

Him too

I think we need him

This thread has made me want to watch The Wire again.

True dat.

Peggy wrote:

This thread has made me want to watch The Wire again.

True dat.

It ain't no thing

I feel you, bro.

(Not in the biblical sense, obviously. The Wire sense.)

The King, stay the king.

Priceless!