Gang Monologue

The rain had just stopped pouring, and we had all gathered in a park nearby, as a makeshift memorial for Johnny. It wasn’t really a funeral, we didn’t have the budget for that, and it wasn’t like his parents cared enough to give him a proper goodbye.

I kept writing. It was hard, but I could get everything off of my chest. I could explain to people what had happened to me. I could tell my English teacher. It was a little hard, but I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry. Greasers didn’t cry.

I could smell English Leather shaving lotion and stale tobacco, and I wondered foolishly if I would suffocate before they did anything.

I got to my apartment and had a huge headache. I shouldn’t have drank that much well off to sleep for me. I did my homework at the library earlier so I don’t need to do that. This is the one week I do it anyway. I yawn once more and climb into my dark bed sheets.I snuggle underneath and drift off to sleep. If only I knew someone was watching me the whole day. I woke up the next day, showered, and brushed my hair for the weekend. I love weekends, no school and no worries. I closed the curtains of my bay window so the whole room would be dark and went down stairs to the burning smell of pancakes. Uck… I hate pancakes.

My parents, well mostly my mom wanted to do anything to get me out of Chicago. She said chicago ain't good for me cause I was always getting into fights and i started gang banging so she said she was going to move I never believed her into one day she told me start packing. I was really mad cause I ain't want to move, but i guess i had to. We move to Decatur iL and our first week there I knew almost everybody, but i was only cool with like 3 people.

If anyone asked me—and they most certainly did not ask me—I never wanted to work at the YMCA. I wanted to get out of this shit-hole town, like everyone else. Pack up my car and head out to Cali.

I pull up and fuck your daughter, sike nah let me stop. I ain't 21 Savage and I ain't Lil Yatchy,

On Monday, I opened the front doors to my school and was hit with a wave of voices and bickering from all sides of me. There was a semi-large group of people gathered around a newspaper page hung on the wall. After pushing through the group to see the newspaper, i recognized the two boys shown on the picture. It was Johnny and Ponyboy, both running frantically around a church engulfed in flames. This had been the talk of the town lately, how a couple of greasers rescued children from a burning building. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation running through the group. Everyone was talking about how greasers could do something so heroic. But instead of sounding surprised, or even grateful the children were alive, they were calling Johnny and Ponyboy terrible things I don’t want to even begin to remember. Why? They’d been so brave, running into a burning building like that to save those children. Anyone else would’ve let them burn in there.

The best living or dead hands down huh? Less talk more head right now huh? And my eyes more red than the devil is

When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious

It all started with me trying to get into a gang. I was 12 and there was a local gang that all the boys my age dreamt of being in. Their leader, his nickname was Squints, was tough. There was about 9 of them at that time. When I asked him, it was at the local gas station.

I've dealt with his bs n mine for years and I wouldn't have stuck up for shit if it weren't for the fact that people bash the unknown, so as far as you go, maybe, just maybe you're the crackhead jumping to conclusions. I didn't fully say he wasn't in the wrong, I never said the girl that night didn't set him up, cuz in my heart, she fuxkin did. But for you to fuckin call me shit ncbash me or my family, grow the fuxk up or why don't u say ur petty bs to my face bitxh?! Cuz I can say now I'm clean, I've got kids to worry about and take care of.. And also, if u read, I've been gone from him for over 9+yrs... Go fuck

And rub it in so deep, salt in the wound like you're laughing right at me

ill fucking kill you bitch if you don't stop talking shit behind my back you dirty tart. You be suck all sort of dick my boy and I gonna expose your bitch ass if you don't stop. maybe ill brake your fucking family's knees in. I'm not going to fuck around anymore you fucking dirty ass bitch, another thing you owe me money you hoe. bitch I got niggas that are willing to beat your ass.........

It was just a normal day for me. My first interaction with the mafia prince was when we were seven. Daddy was very keen on taking to the business meeting that day. He had mother help dress me in my best dress. I didn’t argue, despite being seven and really not wanting to go to some dull business meeting. But what daddy said was law. So I put on a winning smile and went with him. I never knew exactly what daddy did. I asked him once and he brushed the question off and his exact words,, “I am a businessman, now go play or something Minnie, I’m busy. Children were to be seen and not heard. But I was quite the curious child. My curiosity got me in quite the trouble when I was younger. Heck it still does. Anyway back to the story. We got in the