Prowlah must have had to get in a beat-down to get his dues //content.invisioncic.com/y282845/emoticons/crap.gif.7f4dd41e3e9b23fbd170a1ee6f65cecc.gif
It wasn't a pleasant situation.
Apparently the fella that owed me has a pretty severe crack habit and that's why I've been getting dodged for quite some time now.
When I showed up at his house he tried to give some lame-*** excuse about not having been able to cash his check yet - but I knew better b/c his wife is who called me to let me know he had cash on him (cashed his paycheck at the liquor store on the way home) and I might better show up this evening if I wanted mine.
So I get over there, am told this ignorant story about him not having his pay yet and I quietly informed him that I know better b/c he cashed his check at Thrifty on the way home.
In the midst of this conversation here comes a loud knock at the door which at first, because of the manner of the knock, my first thought was "Cops!" along with wondering what kind of mess I had wandered into the middle of. (Remember I'm in the middle of applying to a foreign government requesting that I be able to come and live there legally for the rest of my life so I have to keep my nose clean, period)
Well, it wasn't cops but rather his dope man who was apparently looking for some satisfaction on a debt owed as well. //content.invisioncic.com/y282845/emoticons/crap.gif.7f4dd41e3e9b23fbd170a1ee6f65cecc.gif
It came very close to getting ugly since dope dealers generally don't much care for people they do not know - and there aren't any dealers who know me - so this f***er starts questioning who the f**k I am and why the f**k I'm there. I would guess that he didn't appreciate my raising a single eyebrow and telling him it wasn't any of his concern and I'd be out of his way momentarily as soon as I get what I came for.
Figuring that my hand might be dipping into cash he reckoned was rightfully his he drags a piddly little penknife out of his *** pocket (what self-respecting "baller" carries a knife with a blade shorter than 2" for personal protection, anyway?!?) and then proceeds to steal a line from that movie with Chris Rock and Anthony Hopkins about CR being a twin and getting recruited to be a spy or something...remember the one I'm talking about? Anyway - he looks at me and tells me I need to back the f**k up before I get smacked the f**k up.
Okay - now I'm pissed. //content.invisioncic.com/y282845/emoticons/pissed.gif.9f665f96bc89e98e708dabd4580bb591.gif
I calmly tell him that it would be in his best interest not to get in my face because the potential results could very easily eventuate into something more than a bit hazardous to his health. Looking for all the world like the use of any word that wasn't monosyllabic creates total confusion within his little drug-addled brain all he could say was, "WHAT, mutherf**ker??"
He then took two steps towards me like he wanted to try me so I shot my right hand inside my overshirt and drug out my .45.
I gave him two choices: Sit down or be sat down permanently.
Rather than sit down he hit the door at a full gallop like his *** was on fire and his head was catching. He was exactly the coward I had him pegged for as soon as he walked in the door.
So I turn back to 'ole boy as I reholster my piece and magically the money he hadn't had a chance to go get appeared in his hand.
I got my $150, told him to lose my phone number, climbed back in Gossamer and got right the f**k out of his part of town.
Not a good evening for Prowler. Crackheads are basically useless creatures on their best days but anyone that would endanger a child (Moron-boy has a 4 yr old and a 6 month old) is lower than pond-scum in my book.
