Street Poisoned: The Game Chose Me

By Maurice Holland

"What's the solution for me?" I thought to myself sitting in a prison cell, thinking about the way I felt witnessing my mother having a seizure when I came in from school that day. I'm sure plenty can relate within this mind state yet my parents didn't understand that someday those things my sib

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maurice Holland LLC
• Release date: Mar 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9780578416489

Book preview

Introduction

IFound myself in captivity within the system that was designed to strip me of my pride and dignity. At the age of sixteen I once told my bottom bitch Pork chop if I ever had to sit long enough, or got caught doing those nefarious deeds, I would write about my life. A cold hard life that I didn’t understand but I had no other choice but to play my hand. Therefore, for those that never understood me, and in case those nightmares as a youth ever come true, maybe this book would further explain the things I couldn’t.

The stone walls echoed the profound voices and screams of the inmate voices around the room. Along with the television, or should I say trick box within the mist of voices bouncing from the stone walls. The sound of the heavy hands slamming the cards down on the steel bolted table as the inmates gambled. Also the squeaky announcement’s over the intercom, and unlocking and banging sound of the rusty cell doors being opened and closed. There I was in the back ducked off next to a young nigga twenty seven that just spent his past ten years in this bullshit.

I thought to myself, ain’t shit playa about this shit. I know I deserve better, but maybe I am an animal at times. This was the only way I was being controlled by not being able to live at my own will. Until I make it to court and put this shit behind me, I’ll be contained here eating, sleeping, and moving by the command of some young punk that probably haven’t imagined half the things I’ve seen. Confined, in an overcrowded cell shitting before other men with no privacy. Yeah it sucks!

Like a bitch teeth cutting your dick head.

It didn’t take long before that shit got aggravating. I kept hoping I fall asleep and this shit was just a dream. After that first morning I got that silly thought out my head and started to think of a plan. I could only blame myself for the numerous times I put myself here. I thought, staring at the man looking back at me from the reflection on the steel table. Conversation with these niggaz in here ain’t gaining me nothing. I didn’t see nothing we had in common besides these fucked up charges we all trying to beat; three hot’s and a cot, and the bright ass orange jumpsuits we wore.

At times within that cell I’d often see her face. I’d get so lost in my imagination that I could almost relive those moments that forever changed my life. I thought to myself knowing God could read my thoughts, was I born to be a Mack, gangsta, or drug dealer. Like an incurable disease I carried each one of those traits within me. I was street poisoned from the beginning. Before I knew it I would doze off into a deep sleep and begin that dream I just couldn’t seem to reach.

Those dreams seemed so real to me. I was telling my older brother B to go to the store for dog food and cleaning supplies. Then yell to my little sister, Nisha, sort out the color cloths from the whites, and put carpet freshener on the floor.

Right before having a light dispute with my mother about throwing away old junk we didn’t need that she never used. Momma the television barely work toss it out. Throw away those broken ornaments I’ll get you new ones. Matter of fact momma you in the way man just go clean your room, I’ll handle the rest dang! Her lips would move but not a sound would come out. Then the lights would come on and I’d be awaken by the sound of chow call and the loud unlocking sound of the steel doors to that cold cell.

I open my eyes and realize it was only a dream and be so pissed off and just lay there. As I laid for a few more minutes dragging out my thoughts trying to grip my feelings a warm salty tear leaked from my right eye onto the dingy pillow case over the plastic thin pillow. Then I prayed silently and got up to begin my day.

Ch. 1

The Beginning

There was a time when life seemed perfect. My older brother B and I would fight about everything. I’d find him across the street in the neighbor’s yard brake dancing on a card board box. I crack on him. Seeing him in that red leather jacket and tight jeans with the cuff above his skinny high yellow ankles. He wore the dusty black penny loafers with the rusty coin in the slits. He really thought he was a young Michael. He even had the glittery glove with the fingers stretched through the holes on his right hand.

From across the street I watched until I couldn’t take it and interrupt their play. He and his punk friends would be so into jamming they didn’t see me nearing them like a lion stalking its prey. Back and forth they would take turns competing. B was so into the shit. As soon as he would spin on the box and get up, I’d run and slid on my knees across the box and yell, He- he- he- woo! then take off running.

He’d chased me until he trip me up and a fight ensue. Like clockwork, mom appeared in the glass screen door and notice him ruffing me up and yell sat, Turn him lose you red bastard!

He’d reverse the game and put me in the cross when he shot back, Who told him to cross the street anyway! Asshole get us both in trouble now. We had to wait for the claw when Pops get in and Mom rat us out.

After she yell for us to come in B slap the back of my head as she turned away from the doorway. This usually set the fights off between us. He’d turn to walk away and I’d punch him in the back and take off running yelling for momma. That’s when he’d chase me around the yard until she hear me yell and come back to the door.

The fuck you doing to him mutha-fucka come in the house now got dam it, both of y’all!

It was my turn to play the con on her. I snatched away from B grip and ran and cling to mom leg. Then place my hand on her pregnant belly and play my role.

Mom really wasn’t too hard on us. It was Pops that was strictly by the book like a judge that knew nothing but law. We had to get all our play in before Pops come home. Even though mom would often forget to tell him we got on her nerves earlier or act like she forgot; until we get on her nerves again and upset her.

B would be so playful, knowing when pops get home we were in for an ass whipping. He didn’t care. He was the spoil one. He did what he wanted. As we play in our room he’d break something, or make too much noise, and that would be the final straw that broke the camels back for mom. We could hear her loud roar from the bedroom. Don’t worry about y’all hard headed son of bitches. Ya daddy ah be home soon mutha-fuckas!

That shit would scare me, but Bobby didn’t fear Pops until he heard his car pull up and him enter the door. My pops would come home moments after mom threaten to tell on us. In his thunderous voice, Bobby and Maurice get in here! I would trembled in my boots at the sound of his voice, Pops didn’t play. It was only three licks to our naked bare ass, only if we didn’t put our hand back there to try and block the slash. If so, that would be an extra lick.

All that shit talking and boldness went out the door instantly. B high yellow ass hated getting whippings but always was into something. The sound of Pops voice made him freeze up like a corps. The look on his face scared me. He’d pull me along, dragging me to our doom. I’d snatch away and yell, He called you first. Then run to Mom and say, He still messing with me and it’s his fault.

My father would calmly call us over with the voice of an executioner. Now Bobby you know better to be playing in the house.... B would turn red pouring into tears trying to explain to no avail. You know the routine.... not showing any emotions or sympathy for B’s salty tears. Then he give him this speech about how he hated whipping him and to pull down his pants and bend over. This the part B hated most.

After B got his ass cut to shreds with only three licks it was my turn. I’d cry scared shitless mad at B telling my pops it was his fault. I’d plead for Mom but she would ignore my cries as she wash up the dishes and prepare lunch. She hmm lowly, sick and tired of our bullshit and continue. But Dad! I’d cry out, to no avail until I got cut like a slice of pie by his belt.

After he spank me he’d always grab me by my cheeks and explain to me how much he hated whipping us. He’d confess his unconditional love for us and that this was for our own good. No matter what Pops was saying, I was so upset I wanted to kill B. He always fucking up something. Snot running down my nose mixing with my salty tears running off my lips. I was too upset to acknowledge his point, but everything Pops said stuck with me.

Once I was turned loose and sent back to the room, B would be in there making fun of me by mocking my cries. I’d yell and draw my fist but he’d pay me no mind as he continued to play with his He-man toys. He’d act the voices and fighting movement out of the characters to get my attention. Next I’d ask, Let me hold one and I won’t tell dad you bothering me.

He’d put down his toys and dig in his nose pulling a slimy bugger out the size of a fingernail. Okay, but you got to eat this bugger first, then you can hold any toy you want. Tempted I’d look at the slimy bugger at the tip of his finger, thinking how sweet my own buggers tasted when I’d pick my nose. I’d get lost in thought nearing him tempted to eat the bugger, looking back and forth from his bugger to his toy. Then he’d burst into laughter causing me to snap out my daze. Then I slap his hand and follow up with a jab. This would cause another fight.

As we fought, we would be unaware of my father in the doorway. He’d hear all the cussing and our bullshit as we rumbled in our room. Then the loud voice of Pops would thunder, Both of y’all drop your pants down to your ankles and come on! The sound of his deep voice sent my heart into a frantic shock. We both look like two weasels, as we raised our heads and look to the sound of his voice. My heart plummeted to the floor.

Bobby you first, you the oldest and should know better. I just told y’all about playing in my got dam house boy and you do what you want to anyway!

But dad! he’d yell.

But my ass, come here boy now!

Pop’s slid off his leather belt from the loops of his fresh creased khakis as B trembled and pulled down his pants and underwear. Trembling, B neared Pops slowly like Pops would have pity for him. Pops reached out and grabbed him around the back of his frail red neck and pulled B to him.

Wha-pow, goes the leather belt into his ass like a hot knife through butter. Wha-pow! goes that leather belt again. Wha-pow! as B hopped around like a human grasshopper.

Come here Maurice, ya ass next!

All of a sudden I got the shakes, trembling like a cold alcoholic in need of a drink. Pull them pants down boy! he roared. He sounded like a thunderous voice Barry White rattling my heartbeat, causing me to cry aloud and tremble uncontrollably. Bring your ass here, now! he roared. Don’t make me tell you again.

You would have thought I was a wobbling chicken on stilts the way I tremble on the way over to him. Once I got into reach he snatch me like the cane hook of the sandman on the Apollo show. His six foot two hundred and forty well-built frame stood over my young frail body, like the shadow of a monster. My tears, cries, or fear of him wouldn’t save me from the execution. I was doomed. The ass-hole crossed me over again.

Wha-pow! goes the leather belt across my tender ass, sending a shock through my body like a Taser.

IIII! I yelled to the top of my lungs coughing cold from my chest to my throat. The first lick was unbearable. I barely made it through the next two and a half because I twitched before he connected. My ass was sore and numb. It felt like I had sat on a hot stove. When he turned me loose I snatched my pants up and ran off to my bottom bunk. My ass was numb like I sat on ice, but blazing hot and on fire.

That good ass whipping put me into a deep sleep.

My mother’s voice awakened my brother and me to come to supper. As a family we all sat at the table as my Mom sing and fixed our plates. She had the kind mellow voice of an angel. Even though she got us that good ass whipping, I song along to the sound of her voice like she didn’t just get us cut.

She was so beautiful. Her butter soft pecan tan skin was flawless, covering her curvy frame like it was poured onto her. She had bedroom big brown eyes that lit up when she cast a smile. When she revealed a grin, her pretty pink lips peeled away from her pearly white teeth like clouds exposing the brilliant sun. Her hair was dark brown, shoulder length, bushy and curly. One of God’s greatest creation I would say.

Once all our plates were fixed, she joined us at the kitchen table. After I ate I went into the living room to watch cartoons. B asked to go back outside. Mom didn’t care so she sent his bad ass out along with his yellow ten speed. As long as we wasn’t tearing up her shit she preferred we be outside anyway. That’s until B would come back in after the other kids got on his ass. Like the little girl that scratched up his face after he grabbed her ass. Mom actually cussed the child out like she was grown; begging her to tell her mother, looking for a fight.

Tom and Jerry was my favorite cartoon. I was comfortable as I can be when B was outside. My spot was resting my head on my mother’s belly. She told me I was having a baby sister shortly. Before the child was even born I was already over whelmed to have her in this world. The fact another seed was planted after me had me eager to be responsible. Day and night I would rub and kiss my mother’s belly talking to the baby inside her. Hoping she could hear my voice.

When my sister finally arrived I could see the enigmatic joy on my parent’s faces, as my father stood next to my mother holding my sister. Wrapped tightly in a warm hospital sheet, my mother held her small body tight and close to her heart. My mother cherished the arrival of my sister due to my mother’s first born daughter dying shortly after birth. Moments later the nurse came in to take my sister back to the nursery to run more test and let my mother rest. On the way out we passed the nursery and spotted my sister among the other newborns. Pops and I stood at the window until I noticed her before leaving. There she was as beautiful as she could be resting peacefully.

Days later my mother was released to go home. As soon as she came through the door, Reese! Get these sticks and shit off my got dam floor! she yelled. I hurried and gathered the rocks and sticks I brought in earlier, and went out back to see Comrade, my father’s German Shepard. I took it as a sign she was happy to be home back at her old self again. I haven’t heard her cussing and fussing in a while now. I was glad to see her too.

Before I could make it out the door Comrade was barking at me wiggling his tail. Then he started digging a hole, signaling me over. The closer I got the faster he dug up that hole making that crazy sound he did when one of us came outside. As soon as I got close enough he pounced on me, knocking me to the floor licking my face. Then he sniff me all over and lick my sticky fingers with his rough tongue.

Comrade! Get down boy, now! Pops voice roared. Comrade followed his command and bowed to the ground looking up at Pops. Maurice what I told you about coming back her alone? I don’t want you out here by yourself, and never play around his food because he will bite you. Then he walked over and started petting Comrade on the head. Comrade rolled unto his back and Pops rubbed on his belly before taking me back in to get cleaned up.

My father worked on post in the kitchen the majority of the time. My mother and father both worked on post until she got pregnant. I got so use to her being home during her pregnancy that I almost forgot that she even had a job. I think this ruined her somehow, because after she had my sister she never returned back to work. She considered herself a homebody.

The most peaceful time I had is when B would be in school. I had the house to myself, just Mom, my baby sister Tanisha and I. I would be having the time of my life until I see that school bus pull up in front of the door.

I’d see his bus pull up and be somewhere waiting on him to come in. As soon as he entered the door I would come out of hiding and punch him in the stomach and take off running.

About an hour later Pops would come home and catch us outside playing and ask B have he did his homework and to retrieve it. It wouldn’t take but a few seconds to see B’s errors and Pops would make him come in to make corrections. B would hurry and rush to correct his work but Pops would send him back in and cancel that outside shit knowing B would rush through his work. This was the everyday routine and B hated that shit.

My father was strictly by the book. He did everything the right way. In reference to that, he expected us to do the same. Mom on the other hand, practically let us do anything we wanted. As long as we wasn’t fucking up her shit and getting on her nerves. There was times she’d take us to the store and let B and I steal toys and shit we wanted. Mom didn’t want to pay for shit and hated us nagging her. After she cussed us out and said no, she’d say just walk out with it. All the while she was stealing shit herself.

My father would notice B playing with shit he didn’t remember buying, and ask Mom where he got it from. Mom would lie and say she bought it. Pops knew she was lying, because she was too cheap, but he wouldn’t question her. As soon as B did some shit to piss her off she’d yell, Since you wanna be so dam hard headed tell ya daddy were you get them toys from. Hard headed mutha-fucka!

Toot, I thought you said you bought the toys for him? my father asked.

Nawl! His bad ass stole them. That was some cold shit after the fact she told him to steal them.

B always had his way. I can remember B being so spoiled. Pops bought him everything as long as he kept his grades up in school. Every holiday and birthday he got everything he wanted. I was always the rough one in the streets. While B would be riding bikes or playing with toys, I made weapons out of sticks and rocks. I never asked for much and made the best out of everything. As long as no one was fucking with me I was good.

I don’t think B had an inch of good in him. They spoiled him too much honestly. He was sneaky and hateful my father would come in from work and notice his fishes floating upside down in the aquarium. B killed them and act like he don’t know what happened when Pops asked. Even when he broke shit my mother would lie and say she did it to keep my pops from getting upset. This shit was turning him out early.

The difference between my parents caused a lot of arguments and fighting between them. Those differences and disagreements later separated them and hurt us all in a way. I say that because my father did enforce structure and believed in discipline. At times I think about the results if they were still together. Yet you never know if the abuse will become a continuous thing.

The arguments resulted into fights. That later caused my mother to take my brother, sister and I to my grandparents’ house. I was too young to understand why they were arguing. It had to be serious for her to take us and leave. My mother once said she had to stay at our Grandparents house. My father came looking for her but didn’t make it in the yard good before my uncle Mane socked him. My mother said it didn’t turn out too well for Pops against uncle Mane. That fight stalled him enough to stay away until she was crazy enough to go back home.

Things would go smooth for a few days between my parents. As much as my