Need to find a video. What has inspired me lately? New music or old music? Well, old videos really. The only new video I think I've seen is Thug Cry. While that's a good video, I don't know if it's inspiring enough that I can come up with a story about it. Well, I am a genius. So, technically I can write a story about anything. I think I'm going to like that Penny Dreadful series. It's very dark. I like dark things obviously. For the Thug Cry video, maybe I could write something dark.
Funny, that was my beginning notes as I started to craft this entry. When I read back over it a week later, I thought I should keep it. It lets you know how random my mind wanders. Anyway, I absolutely have been obsessed with Rick Ross' song "Thug Cry" and when I saw the video, I fell deeper in love. Who doesn't like Wood Harris? Like honestly? Go Google him if you don't. I'll wait.
And Dre Films - (Jon J) Director of this awesome video, among many others:
Rick Ross - Rich Forever
Meek Mill - Amen
Wale - Ambition
(And almost anything else that Maybach Music Group does!)
Okay, watch the video, then read the story...you know the drill. (By the way, the intro is so extra. I would start at 1:33 if I were you.)
"Did you pick up the dishwashing liquid too?" Samera asked, sifting through the grocery bags.
"Yes."
"Yeah, but you don't always do what I tell you to, so I gotta check. And don't let Jerrod stay up late again. I gotta deal with that in the morning, you don't."
"I got it." Steve said, taking one item out at a time and putting it in the fridge. Samara unbuttoned the top of her bartender shirt, took Jerrod's food out of the microwave and set it in front of him at the table.
"Mommy loves you ok? Be good for daddy tonight while I'm at work and I'll see you tomorrow."
"Bright and early?" He asked.
"Before the birds chirp." She smiled. But Steve just huffed under his breath. Don't no birds chirp where they live. Gunfire chirped. Crackheads chirped. No birds though.
"So you trying to get beat in some video games before bed little man?"
"I'm better than you. You'll never beat me."
"Said the gingerbread man." They laughed.
"Yo, man open up it's me. And I got Abe and Ty too." It was Rocky. One of the friends Samera always told Steve to stay away from. Guys like him, were the definition of trouble. Steve walked across the kitchen and opened the back door to let them in.
"What's up with you? You coming out tonight right?" Rocky started.
"You know I can't." He nodded to Jerrod, who was silently nibbling on his food with his head down.
"Come on. This is getting tired. She can't keep hemming you up on kid duty and shit."
"It ain't like that. This is my son. I'm doing this because I want to."
"Yeah, well, I can't let you off the hook tonight. We need you." Steve looked to his other boys, who were no help. They both pretended to have the utmost interest in the wallpaper and the floor tiles.
"Ain't it your bedtime or something? Who eats dinner this late anyway?" Rocky said to the little boy.
"Jerrod, go in the other room. You can finish this later."
"But I'm not done." He whined.
"I said go!"
"Say what you have to say. What's the big deal about tonight?" Steve said when the boy was out of sight. Rocky took a seat at the table and rubbed his hands together.
"I got this problem. You know how I usually meet Andre every week to re-up on my stash right?"
"Right."
"Well, I'm going to come up short this week."
"So."
"So, that's a problem. He's going to make it a problem and I might not make it out of the meeting alive motherfucker, now you helping us getting the money for him or not? And before you say not, know that it's not an option." Steve put his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes vigorously. There was no way he could do this. He was on parole, had Jerrod to look after and promised Samera things like this were in the past. But he owed Rocky his life. If he said jump, he had to say how high. Taking a bullet for another man will do that to you, keep you chained to their ankle practically forever. Steve called the neighbor and asked if she could come over for a little while, watch his son and put him to bed. He put on his coat, tucked his gun in the small of his back, kissed the boy on the forehead and shut the door.
It wasn't quite 5 in the morning when Samera turned her key into the lock of their home. She expected to find the house a mess, tv still on and video game controllers sprawled out. But she found it exactly how she had left it. The only difference was her son curled up in a ball, on the couch, with no blanket. She put her stuff down and covered him, then stormed into the bedroom to yell at Steve. That no good, deadbeat, motherf-, she paused when he wasn't in there. She took the same attitude to the kitchen where she found it empty as well. He had left a note on the table explaining that Jerrod could finish the dinner in the microwave, then he had to go to bed. It was addressed to Kenesha, the neighbor. Samera dialed her faster than she could think.
"Please tell him I'm sorry. I left a voicemail that I couldn't come over. And since he didn't call back, I figured he was good. Girl, don't put him in the dog house. It was my fault. Was he trying to meet you or something?" Samera hung up. He had left their son in the house alone, overnight and never came back. Did he like leave? Like leave for good? Leave them? Or did something bad happen? Oh my gosh, if something happened and she's worried about yelling at him...She sat at the kitchen table, note in hand, until Jerrod shuffled in rubbing his eyes.
"Good morning mommy. Where's daddy?" And outside, a bird started to chirp.
