Dangerous Curves Ahead

By Michael Jones Jr.

Born to Henry and Sylvia Dagwood, in the heart of the ghetto on Cleveland’s East side, brothers Fallon and James Dagwood lived as normal kids in the criminally corrupt Buckeye Neighborhood. The Dagwoods couldn’t have had a better life until that fateful day Henry lost his life due to a tragic accident that left the family devastated. Without her husband’s income Sylvia couldn’t make ends meet with the low wages she earned at a nearby pizzeria. The family were now staring poverty in the face, seeing his Mother’s constant struggle and shortcomings Fallon wanted a way out of poverty and was determined to do whatever it took to make it happen. Stepping into an unknown world, Fallon discovered what he though was an easy hustle, thanks to the uncle of a female fallen met. He was introduced to a man who would change his life forever. Fallon’s loyalty and determination made him wealthy beyond his imagination and the life of poverty was left in a cloud of dust, he made sure he and his family survived.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665535755

Michael Jones Jr.

My name is Michael Jones Jr., a lot of people call me Mike Jones or M.J., for short. I’m currently Incarcerated at Lake Erie Correctional Institution in Ohio serving a fifteen year sentence. Being incarcerated becomes very routine, you are literally doing the exact same thing every day. I like to read, write, work out, cook and research things that I’m interested in. One day I read a book to easy my mind and occupy my time, that’s when I realized that most of the books I’ve read bored me. So, I challenged myself to write a book and once I finished the book , I passed it around and everyone expressed how much they liked my writing and encouraged me to keep writing. I’ve been writing ever Since, I’ve found my passion and talent for writing while in prison. This has been a blessing to find My passion in life, this is what I love to do.

Book preview

Chapter 1

In one of Cleveland’s most murderous, crime ridden, poverty stricken, drug infested and notorious hood’s of Buckeye a.k.a. The Eye, the all too well known and popular baby making tune In Between The Sheets (By The Isley Brothers) could easily be heard crystal clear with-in ear shot, coming from a half opened window at the 8 suitor apartment building on E. 116th and Continental Avenue. Man! We been here for 30 minutes waiting on this bitch ass nigga to come out side, Lil J spoke to his big brother Fallon Dagwood as they were dressed in all black everything patiently waiting in the dark shadows of the buildings rear drive way until their culprit made his exit.

I don’t care how long we been here lil bruh, I’m not leaving til this bitch ass nigga De’nardo brings his bitch ass up out of this building, Fallon spoke as he held tightly onto the handle of his all chrome 45.

Ay! Ralphie, is that you back there? I need a twenty, Beanie one of the hoods long time crack smoke pioneers asked from the curb along the side of the building.

Neither Fallon or Lil-J responded, because they did’nt want their cover blown.

I know that’s you Ralphie, back there playing hide and go get it with them nasty ass street walking strawberry’s, Beanie spoke out loud as her feet beat the pavement on her way up to the block in search of a twenty dollar rock to entertain herself and her violin crack pipe.

The music just stopped, I think this nigga about to come out Lil J spoke as he repositioned himself next to one of the tenants candy blue 72 cutlass on 26 inch chrome and blue forgiato’s wrapped in kuhmo skinnies.

Just as expected, the creeky side door of the apartment opened and then slammed shut. In 2.2 seconds their target appeared in the same shadows where they had been laying patiently for the last 45 minutes.

Denardo dis-armed the alarm to his cherry red 2012 Buick Lacrosse smug and his driver’s side door swung open just as he was about to enter.

Where the fuck you think you going bitch ass nigga?, Fallon asked Denardo as he appeared from out of the darkness and put his chrome 45 to Nardo’s temple?

Ay! Man, please!, just don’t kill me, Denardo pleaded for his life as he witnessed another person in all black emerge from the shadows.

Instantly Lil J had the barrel of his 44 magnum poking him deep with-in his soft gut.

Don’t worry about your life right now muthafucka, worry about that paper and that work you took, Fallon spoke referring to the seventy thousand dollars and nineteen ounces of cocaine that was stolen out of his and Lil J’s stash spot.

Man I ain’t took shit from nobody, but I got a lil something in the apartment that you might like, Denardo spoke as he was reminded of Lil-J’s 44 magnum poking him in his bulging gut.

Well let’s make this shit happen then, Fallon spoke as he kept his 45 pressed against Denardo’s temple.

I got kids yall, please just don’t kill me, Denardo spoke as urine could be heard running like a leaky faucet falling from his tan Polo cargo pants, down his legs and onto the concrete pavement as he was being thoroughly escorted to the side door of his apartment building.

Nigga, fuck yo kids. You ain’t think about none of that shit when you took that work and money, so fuck you bitch ass nigga and get them damn keys in that door to your apartment before I blast yo whining ass right here in the hall way, Fallon spoke already appearing to be impatient after sitting in the darkness for 45 minutes waiting on Nardo to exit the building.

Seeming just as impatient and aggravated as his older brother, Lil-J smacked Denardo across the front of his face with the barrel of his 44 magnum causing a instant mass blood spill from De’nardo’s nostrils. This seemed to speed things up a bit, because now they were entering Denardo’s apartment.

Damn!, nigga you done broke my damn nose, De’nardo spoke as blood continued to gush from his nostrils.

Let me put this nigga down bruh, cause he doing too much whining for me, Lil-J asked Fallon as they now stood in De’nardo’s small and cluttered kitchen with their pistols still drawn on De’nardo.

Listen, I’ll give yall everything I got, just don’t let this nigga kill me, De’nardo pleaded and begged while staring down the barrel of Lil-J’s 44 magnum.

Nigga get to getting before your bitch ass won’t be living, Fallon spoke as he kept a tight grip on his pistol.

With out another word spoken De’nardo led the way to his bedroom and stopped directly in front of the closet.

Everything is in the treasure chest, De’nardo spoke in the saddest tone of voice now knowing he was being stripped of his worth.

With no hesitation Fallon entered the closet as Lil-J made sure De’nardo did’nt make any false moves. It did’nt take Fallon long to retrieve the two black book bags and one blue duffle bag from the treasure chest.

Make sure that shit official before we roll up out of here, Lil-J told Fallon referring to checking the contents inside of the bags.

Everything is in there, I ain’t about to play with my life, it’s all there, De’nardo spoke fearing that Lil-J was about to shoot his lights out since they now had his stash.

After opening all three bags, Fallon gave Lil-J a head nod confirming that all things were official.

O.K. you bitch ass nigga, lay down on the floor with your hands behind your head, Lil-J instructed De’nardo.

Don’t kill me man, please don’t kill me, I got kids who need me man, De’nardo begged.

1, 2, just before Lil-J got to 3, De’nardo quickly did as told.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Four loud blasts echoed through the small apartment.

Lil-J had sent four slugs into the back of Denardo’s kneecaps.

De’nardo screamed from the top of his lungs as Fallon and Lil-J quickly exited the building.

Running full speed like track stars with their guns tucked, they made it successfully through the cut that led to the next street over called Park view with the bags in tight grip.

You all good lil bruh?, Fallon asked Lil-J.

Yeah! I’m all good big bruh, let’s just get to our new spot, Lil-J answered.

We’re already on the way, Fallon spoke as they now entered Fallon’s jet black 87 Chevrolet El Camino.

With-in ten minutes they were pulling up to their new honey comb hide out on 104th and Shaker Boulevard.

Quickly entering their honey comb hide out two bedroom apartment, they plopped down on the soft suede sectional and began to empty the contents of the bags onto the fresh beige colored carpet.

Man!!! I knew this bitch ass nigga had our shit, Lil J spoke as he shuffled through all of the neatly rubber banded stacks of money that he had emptied from the book bags.

How you know nigga?, Fallon asked with raised brows?

Cause the rubber bands are red and double wrapped with yellow smiley faces on them, Lil J answered.

We got our shit back plus some extras, that’s all that matters, Fallon spoke as he rummaged through the contents emptied from the blue duffle bag.

How much work and money you think that is in those bags?, Lil J asked.

Hold up, I’m counting it now, Fallon spoke as he quickly began to count the work while Lil J counted the money.

After they were done with their count, they both learned that they were in possession of fifteen kilo’s, seventy seven ounces of hard, and two hundred and eighty nine thousand in stacks of rubber banded hunnid dollar bills.

Yeah!!!!!!!!!!, you already know what time it is play boy, Fallon spoke as he stood up and gave his lil brother Lil J a pound.

Ain’t no mystery big bruh, it’s big things popping and lil shit stopping, Lil J responded as he began putting the money and work back in the bags … … … … … .

Chapter 2

Fallon Dagwood and his brother James Lil J Dagwood grew up in a single parent home with their mother Mrs. Dagwood on Cleveland’s east side on Buckeye Rd. despite all of the crime and drug activity in the Buckeye neighborhood, Fallon and James still lived a decent childhood thanks to the spoils of their late father Mr. Henry Dagwood. Henry was a steel worker at L.T.V. Steel and because of his job he was able to pull alot of weight and provided everything that his wife Sylvia and their two sons wanted til one night on his way home from work an eighteen wheeler cut in front of him on the high way and the rear of the eighteen wheeler banged the front end of Mr. Dagwood’s 79 Cadillac De Ville and sent the flawless pearl white caddy hurling over the divider and tumbling over onto it’s roof in the on coming traffic lane causing Mr. Dagwood to be thrown several feet from his vehicle and was instantly ran over by a 83 Lincoln Continental. The injuries proved to be severe because Mr. Dagwood died at approximately 11:49 p.m. at Metro Health Hospital from multiple broken bones, contusions and a swollen brain. At that very un-fortunate moment, things seemed to turn upside down for the Dagwood family, especially Fallon and his brother James. They would indeed go on in life to miss their father. Their spoils of an overly fair childhood had slowly ceased because the odd jobs Mrs. Dagwood worked just would’nt cut it. She did all that she could to make ends meet, but nothing could make the slack go away. Working very long hours at Zesty’s Pizz on E. 130th and Buckeye Road barely paid the rent, let alone other utilities and necessities. Dealing with the harsh reality of losing her husband and working a under paying job, Ms. Dagwood still had alot to live for which were her two sons because they were her pride and joy. She would wake up extra early during the week days to prepare breakfast for Fallon and James before she sent them off to school. Fallon attended Harvey Rice Elementary on E. 116th and Buckeye Road while his brother James attended Woodland Hills on E. 93rd Street. Even without the spoils of their dad, the kids at school took a liking to Fallon and James because it was something about these two that every one could relate to. They made so many friends in school that their house phone literally rung every minute on the minute. Majority of those calls were from girls. Mrs. Dagwood had picked up on that immediately and one day she sat the boys down and had a discussion with them about young girls, and sex. Being intelligent youngens, they picked up on exactly the point Mrs. Dagwood was trying to make. All she wanted them to do was finish school with out making any babies before they did so. They both agreed to carry out their moms wishes. But only time would tell how that played out. Other than that the boys would come home from school and help Mrs. Dagwood with all the house hold chores and then hit the streets with the other neighborhood kids. Growing up in the Buckeye neighborhood was definitely a experience for Fallon and James … … … …

Ay! What the fuck are yall doing?, ay! Bring your little bad asses back here right now, spoke Arab Tony from the Arab store on E. 112th and Forest Avenue.

Tony had just caught the usual suspects stealing again.

Get the fuck back here, Tony yelled as he made the poorest attempt to catch Fallon, Bryson, Maurice, and Deshawn as they stuffed their pants and spring jackets with bags of hot fries, funyuns, doritoes, juices, candy bars and hard candy.

Fast as bullets, the youngens were able to escape out of the store just mili-seconds away from being caught.

Look at Tony! He’s sticking his middle finger up at us, Bryson spoke as they turned around to witness Tony throwing a hissy fit with his middle finger held high in the air.

The boys cracked up laughing knowing they had pissed Tony off for the millionth time.

Fuck you, you camel riding son of a bitch, Deshawn yelled back at Tony as they made their way further down Forest Avenue.

Tony’s store was just one of the many stores the fellas stole from periodically. Today was just his turn to be gaffled for minor goods. The next day it would be another Arab store in a up roar after the fellas ripped it off.

De’shawn who taught you how to cuss?, Fallon asked as they continued their journey down 111th Street.

Man!!! I been cussing since I was two years old, Deshawn spoke as he continued to cuss like a sailor.

Yeah! Right, yo momma would beat the mess out of you if she ever heard you cussing, Maurice spoke.

All my momma would say is, Boy you act just like your damn father and then she’ll walk into the kitchen and make me something to eat, Deshawn spoke.

You wish, Bryson spoke as they all started to laugh at De’shawn’s humor.

Fallon, Maurice, Bryson, and Deshawn were the best of friends and hung with each other every day. Being that they were all within the same age range they were able to do alot of things together.

Fallon’s brother James was the youngest out of the group which permitted him to stay at home with Mrs. Dagwood majority of the time because Fallon and the rest of the fellas was always into something that consisted of trouble and mayheim, meaning that if they had to run James would get left behind because he would’nt be able to keep up with the rest of the fellas.

By every one living only a street away from each other, all they had to do was hop the fence in their back yard in order to be on the next street to meet up with one another. This was their every day routine til they met up to start what ever trouble they could muster up. When ever they were’nt stirring up any trouble they would go swimming at Wood Hill Park, bike riding at bicycle jungle in Shaker, or be playing video games and shooting basketball over De’shawns. Other times they would all just be roaming through the hood looking for trouble and something to steal. Not being able to steal to them was like not being able to come outside.

When they stole, they stole everything imaginable. Bikes, games, skateboards, food, shoes, clothes, footballs, basketballs and more. They all shared something in common, poverty. What ever they stole from one another meant that they just could’nt afford it. What the fellas had in common was that each of their parents were in the low income bracket and that’s what made the fellas close cause they were able to relate to one another’s struggles.

Man, I’m tired of stealing every day, Bryson spoke as he sipped his lemon flavored juice.

We don’t have any money so we got to steal, Maurice spoke as he began to open a bag of cheese doritos.

I’m with Maurice, Fallon interjected.

Count me in too, De’shawn spoke while chewing on a banana now & later he had stole from the Arab store.

Well one day I’m gonna stop stealing and have a whole lot of money with alot of pretty women just like my uncle Mike Spivey, Bryson spoke referring to his bank robbing uncle Mike Spivey.

It ain’t like we’re going to be stealing forever, Fallon spoke.

You right about that, Bryson replied.

Til that day comes we still have alot of stealing to do, De’shawn spoke with a wide toothed grin as he stopped in front of a single family home on E. 111th & Forest and quickly began creeping up on the front porch to steal a hard red, blue and yellow Haro G.T. freestyle bike.

Soon as Deshawn stepped on the porch he was spotted because he saw the curtains to the front window move and some one yelling like a maniac.

Ay! Lil nigga get yo lil ugly ass the fuck off my muthafuckin porch, yelled an un-known male voice from the front porch window while Deshawn grabbed the bike by it’s handle bars and came flying off the porch with the bike in grasp.

That’s why yo hoe ass can’t catch me, De’shawn yelled back as he hopped on the bike and began to take off.

I’m about to kick yo lil ass nigga, spoke a big bearly looking man in his mid twenties as he exited the front door of the house in attempt to catch De’shawn.

Scared as a muthafucka, De’shawn peddled so fast his feet turned into whirl wind picking up major speed leaving the man in a haze of dust. That man was definitely no match for the speed Deshawn had accumulated.

Fallon, Bryson, and Maurice cracked up laughing as they watched everything un-fold before their eyes.

Later that day upon entering the house Fallon instantly had noticed how un-usually quiet it was and that