About The Funk...

Observational Spittle from the mind of a man of color in his 40s, without the color added (most times). Come in, laugh, and you may learn something...

90 Things That Irritate The Sh** Out Of Me Trailer

Sunday, April 6, 2014

The Future's Short Story Time


This is the LAST blog for the next few days...I promise...:)

To be honest, I wanted to showcase something I was messing with, and I hope the folks that read my blog on occasion would enjoy it.

Have a good week.

A Gangsta Mini

“You know, I think you are better off without her,” Mo-Fu-Quan said as he poured a glass of wine in front of a sobbing 45-year-old man. 

He placed the glass down in front of him, tapping his heartbroken friend on the shoulder as he sat down in a chair across from him.

“Man, she was my whole world,” Unique “I Write The Rhymes That Make The Gangstas Sing” Brown said through his tears as he grabbed the glass of wine Mo (for short) placed in front of him and sucked it down in one gulp.

“I mean, we were together for like 2 years, dawg! I even wrote that hit record that was on top of the charts for like 7 weeks!

“Yeah,” Mo said, shaking his head as he sipped on his wine.  “That track ‘My Future Baby’s Mama’s Booty B All Good’ was an instant classic.”

Unique placed his head in his hands, trying to control his emotions.  He had a concert in a couple of hours, and he had an image to protect.

“I’m gonna b alright, tho,” he said, as he wiped the tears from his eyes.  “I have a rhyme to let people know about heartbreak.  Yo, you wanna hear it before the show?”

Mo nodded, a smile on his face, glad that his boy was trying to get his head on right.

Unique stood up, wiped the last tear from his eye, and pulled out a folded piece of paper he had in his gold-plated stripped jeans.

“This is off the chain, dawg,” Unique said as he cleared his throat.  “It hurts to lose Foshakeabootyquuana, and she’ll always be in my heart, but hopefully this will help others deal with loss love, know what I mean?”

Mo shook his head in agreement, and leaned forward to hear what Unique was about to spit.

Grabbing the paper and raising it to eye level, Unique assumed his stage persona, and began to rap.

Yo baby
It’s all good
Even though you twisted my love
I’ll be OK
As soon as I drive by yo’ crib
Cold blast you and send you up above

I ain’t bitter
I got mad paper
And I’m gonna be alright
I’ll just hire an ex convict
Give him a few thousand
To make sure you go goodnight…

“Hold up!” Mo said, a slightly horrified look on his face.  “Umm…you’ve always talked about surviving the hood in your songs….now you are talking about killing ex girlfriends?”

“What are you talking about?” Unique said, surprised by Mo’s reaction.  “These are like metaphors and whatnot…my fans know what’s up!  It’s all good!  Let me spit this next line and you’ll see what I mean.”

“OK,” Mo said, his eye raised slightly as he leaned forward again.

Unique got back into his persona, and continued to spit his lines…

So girl
Don’t think you won
Because you broke my soul
I got two big brothers
Just got out of jail
That’ll put your lifeless body in a hole…

“’Nique!” Mo exclaimed.  “Where exactly are the metaphors in that?”

Unique folded his arms, disappointed that his boyhood friend wasn’t feeling what he was trying to do.

“Man, it’s just a man trying to express his heartbreak about losing his woman!” he said with conviction.“  “I had to make a little gangsta for my fans, ya feel me?”

Mo nodded his head nervously, motioning Unique to go on.

So I say yes, yes, y’all
‘Cuz now I know the truth
On why you chose to go
My homie Ja’Finger
Told me who u was foolin’ with…

Unique then stopped rapping, standing up straight.  Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out a revolver, and pointed it towards his longtime friend.
…my longtime homie Mo.

Mo’s eyes widened, as Unique walked over towards him, gun in hand, anger and tears on his face.

“Hold up man,” Mo said as began to get up, “it ain’t even like that.”

“Is that right, my man?” Unique said, as he stopped mere inches from Mo, his gun pointed at his head.  “That was my bitch, fool!”

“Hey!” Mo said, “Her name is Shoshana!”

At that moment, Mo-Fu-Quan Jones knew he just uttered his last word.

After the sound of the blood splatter faded, Unique tossed the gun on top of Mo’s dead body.

“I guess I’m gangsta now, huh,” Unique said as he went back into his pose.

“I think I’ll write another rap,” he said as he sat back down, the pain in his heart now being soothed by the salve of revenge.

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