"Raquel what the fuck are you?"
"A person." she said. "I'm a person. A vampire."
"Technically speaking, I would like to add the history of the Obayifo at this time. It is a ball of light which is a soul, hence a vampire. Due to customs, a soul without a body is an Obayifo." said Adley.
"Addie..." bore Ferness. "Shut up."
"I'm just saying." Adley put his hands up in defense. "A soul is a soul, yes connected to the Obayifo. Yoc is sounding as if she's a zombie." said Zita.
"Are you a fairy?" asked Karolina. "Did you come from a vamp's shadow."
"No," said Raquel. "I'm a person."
"A person?" creased Mackie. "What does that mean?"
"I'm a witch, I'm psychic." says Emmanuelle. "She's going off vibes in the room." states Corrie. "Snitch, Witch."
"You a hoe." I looked at Emmanuelle. She stoic. "She's a zombie. Made."
"Made?" focuses Zanna. "What a minute. Corrie's my shadow. You calling me a hoe?"
I haven't finished my sandwich. The bread is getting stale by the moment. "Well, Zombies don't do anything. So, she's empty."
"Actually I'm a person."
"No you dumb Spanish bitch. You dead-dead!" hollers Wayo.
"Mama Beulah is dead for a moment." says Clayton. "She's a halfie, witch and vamp."
"But Beulah isn't here." Karolina gawks at Raquel. "How did a zombie get in here."
"They don't do anything." blurts Mundo. "But they got ears so who listening?" ejaculates Zita. "It's a damn mangle in the backyard. Beu is dead, this little girl is a witch, and she saying Corrie a hoe which we already knew given Zanna has a tail!"
"What is happening?" Ferness mutters. "Lucant hung Beulah outside by the tree."
I turned to Emmanuelle, "Do you know?"
She nods. "Emmanuelle said she came from The Yard."
"What's the Yard?" searched Janna. "I've never heard of it."
"The Yard is an old street baby." explains Mackie. "Niggas went the Yard to get weed, sex, drugs, and be homeless." adds Zita. "It's not a homeless street. My baby braided hair..." said Emmanuelle.
"Is your mother still alive?" inquired Karolina. "You." she leered at Corrie. Corrie crossed her arms... "I shot up the house..."
"I hate you!"
What is happening?
.
.
.
I put the blunt to my lips. It's sombrous in the club. Pink eyes waving like headlights. Teeth in neck with rap music shaking the club. I'm here on business.
I see gold in the distance. Going through people I reach the half circle table. He bares his fangs at me. "Adonijah!" he flashes his wide smile. "Boy say, I didn't think you'd visit me. You got blood and bone?" he lifts a brow. "Let me hook you up."
"I told I was going to California." His face is sniff with that head transplant. It's made out of the finest gold imported from Africa. Locucts gold shines brighter; even platinum would have sufficed.
I think it's a cheap mannequin head. But I keep my mouth shut on it.
"I can read you nigga..." Gata is the creepiest nigga I know. As old as I am. I knew his father, King Chere. Something happened to the young nigga. He doesn't talk about his son, or his wife.
He doesn't mention a lot of things. Not even the part about him being a halfie.
"I hope you got tea and crumpets." I take a seat at the table at the end. It's four others around, they wearing long black stocking caps with there teeth glistening in the darkness. "You tryin to be funny with me nigga?" he titters. "You is something else. Quit playing with me before I bite yo ass."
"I got word from the tribe. Did you know?"
"Know? Shit." his eyes shine through the head. "I been left."
"You left?"
"I don't fuck with white bitches like that. My daddy raised me better. I got my own shit." His smile permeant, I can't read his emotions facial wise. "Then don't sorry ass nigga. What about you and that fucking savior idea you had. You threw away all them junkyard dreams?"
"Not entirely. You find yo daddy grave."
"LORD KEEP THIS NIGGA SAFE!" he throws a gun the table. "If I spin it. Can I shot you? Obviously I can't do it to myself."
"But I'm sure you got an extra head."
He gasps, "I DO! I DO!" I can't stand this nigga. "I got a dozen, I got hundreds. Shit, I'll be lucky if I make a million." Gata sniggers. "Which I fucking will. Guess what head I'm going for now?"
The statue of muthafuckin liberty. "No. I got a put a soul in that bitch before I fuck it."
"What about Growden?"
"Did you know there was 67 graves that belong on the plot? I ain't even worried about the goddamn ring."
"What you want?"
"Damn, don't make me think. I want bitches, I want money, I want my daddy house, I want a kid cause a nigga winnin', I could have whatever. I'm dracula in this bitch."
"That King is dead."
"The King is alive for you are looking at him. You came to me for a reason."
"Mum."
"I said I don't fuck with white people." he tilts his head. "I don't eat white cake, coochie, wine; the walls of my house is golden like a fuckin temple."
Big headed ass nigga. "You helped for the most of it."
"It's fucked up he turned niggas into statues." he leans in the black semicircle sofa. "I hate I started fucking with that crazy ass family."
His mother is white, cajun, whatever. "And?" he leers. "What of it. If anything I'm being repectful because God knows my mama mad at my ass. A light skin nigga gold as bread it'self--You heard that? Bread. Like money."
It's green. "Gold don't rot." he states. "I'm not helping a damn sacrilege. Growden got me fucked up. I don't agree with what happened to Aleigha's daughter."
"But Darlene..." he's speaking in contradictions. "You cheated."
"Cheated? I know my girl gone but have some respect."
"Gata, you killed yo son."
"No I didn't or else his soul would be with me."
"The tribe is up. How you feel about it?"
"Nothing." he lifts his head. "I don't give a fuck."
I forgot why I came out here. "Why the Hood?"
"This home." he puts his arms up. "This is where I'm from. Ain't no place better."
"This is your resting place?"
"That and I ain't got no where else for my circle. It's only up from here and when I'm done. I get the house and my daddy house. I can take America turn this bitch into a real Black State. You get me?"
I just glare him. "Call it Urban renewal."