I woke up in a strange new place. I had a bed in the corner, but now there was a pile of dead cockroaches where it stood. I had a television that allowed two channels respectively, but now there was a black man with a gun pointed to my head. ” Just the way I like it!” he said with a fresh joint light on his lips. ” My momma always said that cockroaches don’t deserve to live” He claimed as the heavy smoke filled the corners of my tiny studio apartment. ” Why don’t you just let me get you the real deal. I was just messing with you man. I thought we were homie-gs or however u colored people refer to those hipster terms” I choked out over the blood that filled my mouth courtesy of my new friend.
The sound of sirens could be heard over hip hop music that blasted over the screen courtesy of our director trying to appeal to the youth and add ghetto-tension to this scene. ” I got to go because if I kill you now than the story is over and it will lack certain suspense to the climax of our manifestation.” He ran out the door as I stood up to deal with the blood running down my mouth. He stole my television and my bed to compensate for a bad drug deal and I still have my life? cha-ching $$$. I dug into my pocket to see how much money there was. four hundred two dollars thirteen cents. Yeah, I said it. My goal was to get a car cause I now knew what I had to do. I had to kill the man that stole my bed and television. It was a mission from God.
First, how did he know the word manifestation. I just learned that word the other day, and I’m not quite sure if he used it in the correct context. He had time to say the word too. As he was running out the door in almost slow motion. man-i–f-e-sta-ti-o-n then back to full speed. I felt like I was high, but I’ve never smoked marijuana or heroin or any other drug. I also didn’t partake in any alcohol or cigars or any other legal mood alters. I had no money. I did however love that bed. Its not really a bed but a sleeping bag on the floor, but god knows I imagined it to be a king size bed. My television wasn’t a 50 ft beast but it wasn’t that bad.. 10 inches 2 channels that I stole from my neighbor. My neighbor was an odd fellow, he locked every other channel as if he knew I was stealing from him. I got the mexican news channel and the weather channel. Not really award winning.
I guess you want or need to know my name to find out who will be your new role model or who to root for. Hi, I’m Mark Johnson. I’m 27 with gray hair and blue eyes. My writing skills suck cause I dropped out of school, but that doesn’t really matter in a country with a low ass graduation rate from college. I refer to myself as an entrepreneur. You may call me a drug dealer or con artist. I never sold a real drug to say by full definition. I sold 2 percent cocaine with 48 percent sugar, and 50 percent flour. The smart man never does his product even though mine is safe. I cook with it, so I know. I’ve never done a drug in my life. I don’t stay in a city long or care to get to know other people. I do have a main house where I am now in a disease infested part of town with low rent that I cant really afford since I don’t have a federally acceptable job. All I know is that I need a car and to get my bed back. I might even have to kill a man.
Written By William Foster
Title Art/Episode Title By William Foster
Stay tune for more episodes of The Entrepreneur. The story is just beginning my friends.