The Last African Amerik.K.K.An Slave

The Last

African-Amerik.k.k.an

Slave

Bryant G. Parrish

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

The Last African-Amerik.k.k.an Slave

Copyright © 2012 by Bryant G. Parrish.

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ISBN: 978-1-4697-7366-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4697-7365-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4697-7364-3 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012902846

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 02/10/2012

CONTENTS

-PART ONE-

-1-

-2-

-3-

-4-

-PART TWO-

-5-

-6-

-PART THREE-

-7-

-8-

-9-

-PART FOUR-

-10-

-11-

-12-

-13-

-14-

-PART ONE-

ROOTS

-1-

CHILDHOOD

I Bryant G. Parrish was born on September 6, 1972, to Mr. Bernie and Mrs. Lilly Mae Parrish, at the L.N.A.S. Leventon Naval Air Station in California. My dad was a twenty year veteran, of the U.S. Navy and retired, then went on, to become a private investigator, in which, where, he later lost his job. Due to the fact, that he acquired a D.U.I., Driving Under the Influence, traffic infraction. Back in the days when, D.U.I.’s where commonly committed, by law enforcement officers and officials, whom would routinely receive nothing more than a slap, on the wrist, for this said violation, of the law. However, he was a black man, attempting to perpetrate the same acts, that his Caucasian co-employees were perpetrating, expecting that the same petty reprisals that were handed out to them, if anything at all, would also be applied, to his case

Although, this wasn’t the case, and he not only ended up being reprimanded for his actions, but he was also, relieved of his job. Anyways, he went on to become employed as a janitorial/maintenance worker, for the Stanford Joint Union High School. Which, was where my grandfather, on my mom’s side named Quincy Johnston, was employed, but on different campuses. But, yet and still, they were working for the same school district. So I assume that my grandfather put a good word in for my dad, and he got the job. And as a result of this, I was underneath watchful eyes of them both being my grandfather was on the west campus which where I attended for my freshman and sophomore years in high school and my dad was there on the east campus throughout my junior and senior years that I spent during high school not only that I was being tailed, by my elementary school principle namely Mr. Theorpoles, whom was my principle, from the fourth grade until the eighth grade, on all the way throughout high school, which later would be the sole reason for him, expelling me, from school, just weeks shy, of me graduating and walking the line, during the traditional high school graduation ceremony. Which, I’ll elaborate on, a little bit more, after we flash back, on my child hood.

It was nice, I couldn’t complain, my mother worked hard to keep the G.Q., Gentleman’s Quarterly clothes on my back and I have two sisters, whom were dressed equally as well, which my mom broke her neck to pay for working as a textile factory line worker for some twenty years, after finding work in Ramona, California, where this story begins. I was just four years old, and we had moved in an all-Caucasian, Mexican, and Indian, neighborhood. Where we were the only black family, but there was two white boys, who were brothers, named Kurt and Jackson Simpson, whom, I quickly got acquainted with. Kurt was six years old, and Jackson, was five years old.

I remember the day vividly, they gave me a tour of the small town, and showed me, a U.S. blue postal mailbox, and warned me to never fuck with it, because it’s a big time criminal offense. Then we continued on riding our bikes on down to an orchard where both of them alleged that the spot we were at was a place where racist white people used to hang us black people which I believed then and moreover now. Anyways soon therefore after we started school and I used to get called Buckwheat, Nigger, etc… . by other races and what’s ironic is that I’m light skinned with hazel color eyes nonetheless, they used to haze me which caused a lot of battles, which I always won or I roasted them so bad, that they thought they lost, as I fled, because some of those corn fed fools, were honestly just too big for me to be fighting, so eluding them, was my best bet.

BORN INTO AMERICA

I really felt all alone, when I watched the movie Roots I looked in all four directions North, South, East, and West, now finally realizing it was me against the world there was nobody for me to turn to or to rely on but me I definitely wasn’t going to snitch and run to my parents talking about why they keep on calling me nigger. Because, I knew why after Roots, there were no questions to be asked, and the movement for equality became official for me in 1977, at the very tender age, of five-years old. My first test case was an act of self-defense, which I utilized against this girl, named Roxanne Sanchez, after she hit me with a barrage of punches, after I accidentally kicked a rock, which bounced several times before finally hitting her shoe heel. As I was in a rushing trying to get around her, so that I wouldn’t be late for school.

Now, after seeing total blackness, with each and every punch that she landed on me, I blindly returned fire, shattering her eyeglasses, and cutting her eye. Afterwards, she screamed out loud, and to my surprise I found her eye bleeding, at that time she held her eye, and ran off holding her eye. All the way, to the principal’s office leaving a trail of blood, behind her. But, I wasn’t worried at all, being that it was a clear case of self-defense, plus girls are bigger and stronger than boys at this particular stage of childhood. Nonetheless, I was suspended from school, in this purely political and racist finding. I call it the stringy hair game, where the advantage goes to any other race, but the nappy headed African Americans.

ON THE RUN

Now, her brother named Adrian Sanchez, was after me for cutting his sisters eye all up, and he was in the fifth grade, and I was in the third. So there was no way, that I could see the likes of him. Therefore, I used to run home after school, taking a short cut through the 198 freeway off ramp, and then jumped over Kurt’s and Jackson’s back fence, but I wasn’t a punk though. I still used to ride my B.M.X. Bike through there street, which was right behind ours, and they used to sick their pit bull named Red, on me. Whenever I’d strike through, he never bit me, but he was right on my heals on several occasions. Once he was so close up on me, that I had to jump on the top of my mom’s car, with my legs and arms raised up in the air like a sky diver, it sounded like tin cans being crushed ha! Ha! The shit was funny, had I had a pit bull, I would have done the same thing to him, had the shoe been on the other foot.

Now, in the next town over, to the west, where my mom’s dad lived, they had an all-black, old school neighborhood, that we call the ghetto. It was located in a real rural area, with cow pastures, chickens coops, and pig pens, all in and all around it. I mean, it was ruff, the mosquitoes out there, used to literally drink bug repellent, like it was a steroid to them, and all the niggas out there, where much bigger and stronger, plus older, then I was. And, my older cousins, Donavan and Teven Watson, didn’t help the matter any, because they, used to sick the homie K-Swiss, on me, whenever I left, from my grandmother’s front yard. So, I basically stayed in the front yard, whenever I went over there, and played with bugs. For instance, maybe catch a grasshopper and a praying mantis and shake them up a in a jar, and see which one, wins the fight, it was boring, but all this isolation training, that I was going through, was unknowingly, all in God’s plan, for me to survive through, the trying times, of solitary confinement, that I’d find myself in, later on in life, as an adult.

Nonetheless, I had the same problem no matter, which way that I turned. Because, I was too young, and small, to fade them all, so I played the role that I was given to the best of my ability, as young black man-child. I refer to myself as this, being that, I was only five-years old, representing my race, to the fullest extent, amongst a Klan, of racially biased, if not racist extremists themselves, all alone, as a child, in an anti-African community.

However, I would still go on to become the leader of my peers, after my year straight run, from Adrian. In which, were, I was finally caught, by him, after my cousin Teven Watson, came over, to my house, to visit and sent me, Kurt, and Jackson, to the store, for him, to get him, some M&Ms candy, after Kurt, hit him, with a stick and ran off. Because, he didn’t, want to see him, head up. So I got them, to squash it, then we went on our way to the store. Now once we got to the point, where we could either go all the way around their neighborhood, or attempt to daringly go through it, we decided on the latter. Now just as soon as we turned onto the predominately Mexican neighborhood, that Roxanne, and her brother Adrian, lived on. We were on high alert, while we were riding our bikes though it cautiously. And, it just so happened that we fortunately managed to make it through unscathed.

However, on the way back, we ended up getting caught up by Adrian and three more of his homies. When, he grabbed my bike, by the handle bars, then he spit a luge, dead in my face. Afterwards, Kurt followed suite, by spitting a luge in Adrian’s face, then chase was on. They, chased us, for a couple of blocks, before they finally gave up, their pursuit. Then, me and Kurt, put Jackson, up to go around the corner, to check and see, if their lying in wait, around the corner, or not. So we could head back home, being that Jackson, was the fastest one, out of all of us. However, he wasn’t quite quick enough, to evade them, after he agreed to go around the corner to see, if the coast was clear. When, they all ran out from behind the bushes, that we suspected, that they were lying in wait, for us at. In which where, they caught him at, before he could turn around, on his bike. Then, they gave chase, after me and Kurt, once again, before they finally gave up on trying to catch us. Then, they went back to their neighborhood.

Then, when we came back around, and hit the corner, where they had attacked Jackson at, we found him, still lying on the ground, beaten and battered, from the sticks, that they used to assault him with. Afterwards, we gave him some time to shake it off, then we finally made it home, with a true live war story, to tell Teven. Then, we all started arming up with whatever we could find, from sticks to home—made brass knuckles, etc… . but all of a sudden Teven, didn’t want to ride on them fools. Despite the fact, that it was his M&Ms, that were melted, because of them fools, and let’s not forget, that Adrian, had spit a nasty ass green luge, in his little cousin’s face.

Nonetheless, there would be no act of retaliation on them, because as it was, we were outnumbered four to three, without the assistance of my cousin Teven, and one of or oppositions homies, was a giant in comparison to us, but was equal in size to my cousin Teven. Therefore, we didn’t have a chance in hell to come out victorious against them, without Teven’s aid. So, we couldn’t partake in the rumble that me, Kurt, and Jackson, were so willing to engage in with them. So, we were all hotter than fish grease, at my cousin Teven, at the time, being that we could have finally put an end to all of the bullshit, that I was going through with Adrian, and his home-boy’s, as result of a justifiable act of self-defense. Where, I was forced to utilize justified means of force, upon his little sister Roxanne, whom was beating the shit out of me, unjustifiably.

As a result of all of this, the only thing that I could wish for was that I had a gun, so I could finally finalize on all of the bullshit, that I was going through from always having to look over my shoulder, wherever that I went to in Ramona, to always having to worry about having a Pit Bull, locking onto my leg, whenever I was riding my bike around my own block. And, that wish came true, after I went rambling through my dad’s dresser drawers, and found his twenty-five caliber, pearl handled gun. That he, had previously let me shoot, when we went fishing.

Then, I took it, outside in the back yard of our house, to see if I still knew how to operate it. I then, pulled the hammer back on it, and fired off a couple of rounds, into the air. As a warning shot to them, one day after school, around about 3:15 P.M. Which, is what I believe, spooked their family off from around my block, because they knew very well, that my parents weren’t home, from work yet, when I shot the gun, and soon therefore afterwards, they moved?

Which was a very smart move on their part, because honestly. I was at the point, where I felt trapped, in my own community. And, I was surely ready to blow up on society, at that point and time, which was evident, with the fact that, I was only in the fourth grade, at the tender age of eight year old, already busting caps, and ready, and willing, to pop a motherfucker, if I had to.

A BORN LEADER

Now, in the fourth grade, I was the man. I was the first one, in my grade, to French kiss a girl. Now, this girl, named Savanna Samoan, was down ass fuck. We were set to kiss, underneath the guise, of the darkness when the lights went out, for a class movie and after she followed through, with it, I became some sort, of idol, to my peers. However, I really didn’t like the idea, of exchanging, so much saliva, with her, when we kissed. Therefore, my stomach, started turning, so I asked the teacher, if I could use the restroom, and she said, yes, so I went to the bathroom, to wash my mouth out, with water. Then, I went back to class, and played it cool, in front, of my devoted followers, whom, wanted nothing more, than to be like me, the one that was dry humping and tongue kissing, the finest girls, at school.

I mean, they were devoted followers, of me, whom, utterly refused to snitch, on me. When, they were fully aware, that I was the one that taped the classroom door, with scotch tape, and then, doubled backed and sprayed, the fire extinguisher, to see exactly what’s inside of it, a few weeks after, I kissed Savanna. The whole classroom, was filled with a layer, of a powdery substance, when the teacher, came to open the door, and all of my classmates, started laughing. I remember, the teacher, was highly upset, but, she couldn’t do anything about it, at all, because, there was no way to prove, who done it. And, after all, we are presumed innocent, so I thought, in the United States of America, but later on in life, I’d find out, otherwise.

SPIRITUAL AWAKENITHING

Later on, that same year, I survived a potentially deadly, bike accident. After, I lost my mind, for a second and tried to attempt some dare devil type of shit, by jumping a diesel ramp, like the older kids, on the block, did. However, they were all, on B.M.X. bikes, and I tried to jump it, on my chopper bike, which was a completely insane move, being that, a chopper bike isn’t designed, for such activities. Anyways, after my failed attempt, at jumping the diesel ramp and coming out unscathed, all I remember, is waking up, in my dad’s arms, as he knelt down and held me, in his arms, and him asking me, if I was alright, in which I said, I was O.K., knowing that I wasn’t. Which, he should have known, en-light of the fact, that I was knocked out, for well over four to five minutes, from the time, that it took my friends, to ride their bikes, all the way to my house, to tell my dad what happened, and for him, to make his way, all the way back, to my location, on foot.

I’m telling you, I’m lucky to be here, from that ten to twelve foot drop, straight down on my head, and shoulders. Afterwards, I never really took it, for granite, that my life was spared. Because, I knew it, could have easily been taken, away from me, at that particular time and moment. Honestly, I was astonished that I actually didn’t have my head busted open, to the white meat. Therefore, I knew that God had me in his hands, at that time. Nonetheless, I still kept on running from him and the next year, when I was in the fifth grade, I almost lost my right arm, in a motorcycle accident. After, I ditched church, by meticulously waiting to be, the last one, to get into the bath tub, so to be sure, to be left, at home, by my grandfather, who used to pick us up, for church on Sundays. Now my mom, knew exactly what I was doing, and then told me to stay in the yard, and not to leave out from it, after my grandfather took off and left me, because I still wasn’t ready for church, when he came to pick us up. However, it didn’t take long at all, before I snuck off, to my next door neighbors Kurt’s and Jackson’s house, to ride their little fifty horse powered motorcycle, with them.

STILL RUNNING FROM GOD

Now, Kurt, got on first, and he pretty much, was professional riding it, he was able to do all types of stuff on it, like burn rubber and pop wheelies, and shit. Then Jackson, who was less talented on it, was next. And, he ended up running into the rose bushes that ran along their backyard fence, and got all cut up by the thorns, as hit the back fence and gate behind the rose bushes, and fell off in them. Because, the motorcycles throttle was idled up, and he couldn’t stop the forward progress. Afterwards, me and his brother Kurt, were dying laughing at him, as he was pulling thorns off of himself. Then, it was my turn and I also wreaked, while I was still laughing at him. After, I popped the clutch on the motorcycle, and it threw me back, and the right side handle bar of the motorcycle hit a tree, and I lost control. Which ended up making me slide down off of it. Then, as my right arm was flopping around, after I had slid off of the motorcycle, it ended up getting caught up in between the idled tire, which was still in rotation, and the hot tail pipe. Resulting, in my right wrist being synchronously cut and burned, to the point to where, it hardly bleed, being that it was like cooked the meat.

Afterwards, Kurt lead me, to their bathroom, to wash the mud off of my wound, and we saw the big old gash that we couldn’t hide. This was a case, that we had to report to my mom. So, Kurt escorted me to my house, and we went into my mom’s bedroom to show her, the damage that had occurred, to my wrist. Now my mom, whom was in a state of shock, when she saw the wound, immediately slapped Kurt, right across the face, in her state of shock. Then, she called my dad, from the bar that he worked at, as a bouncer, part time, in Ramona, called The Patriots Club. In order for him, to come home and take me, all the way, to the LNAS Leventon Naval Air Station, hospital. Once there, I was immediately taken into, an emergency room, where I was given a shot, directly inside, of the gash. Which, sent a piercing pain, to it, causing me to shed, a few tears.

Then, the doctor, continued on working on my wound, by stitching it up. But, I continued to feel the sharp pain from the needle, as he sewed it up. So he gave me, another shot directly into it, to alleviate, the sharpness of the pain that I felt, from the needle, entering and exiting through my skin, after I continued to complain, of pain. Then, everything went smooth, from that point on. He finished sewing me up and then, he informed me, of how lucky, I actually was, to still have a right arm. Because, had the cut, went any deeper, then it did, he would have, had to amputate my arm. Now en-light, of this information, I was once again, humbled by God. But, I still didn’t recognize, from all of these tell tell signs, that I was one of the chosen one’s.

BOYS WILL BE BOYS

However, being mischievous is a part of a young man’s life. Therefore, I once again, resumed my normal activities once my arm was healed. From shooting at birds with my sling shot to shooting them with my B.B. gun. I remember one time I seen a chicken running around, the block unclaimed so I got my B.B. Gun then started getting my blast on chasing the chicken across the street into the people across the streets yard, then the chicken flew up in a weeping willow tree and I got right up underneath it and got my sights directly lined up dead on its asshole, then I shot and the chicken made a clucking noise and then shitted and it came down like rain all over my head, it was embarrassing, but I must admit it was funny as hell. I remember Kurt, Jackson, and their dad, Charlie Simpson, was cracking up laughing, as well as everyone else, who witnessed it, even I had to laugh at myself.

Then, me and Jackson, went on to graduate to lethal injections, injecting frogs with lethal injections of household cleaning agents, with the rigs that I found really high up in the cabinet, over the refrigerator in my house. In our curiosity, to find out exactly how long they’d last, before they died. However, I had no idea of why my dad had them. Therefore, I could only assume the worst, and hope for the best, for him. If indeed, he had been, a drug abuser, because, I had my own problems to deal with, at the time.

Being, that I was pretty much, a loner, aside, of the fact that, I had Kurt and Jackson, to hang out with, but they had to do, too much, household chores and homework. So that left me, with a lot, of time on my hands. So I would spend it, talking on my dad’s C.B. radio that he had, in his Pontiac G.T.O. I’d be, talking big shit, on it, while, calling myself, ten, nine, eight trucking, not giving a fuck. And, pretty soon, almost all, of the truck drivers, in the area, knew me. I was one, of the best bull-shitters, on the airwaves, until my dad, sold the car and unhooked, his C.B. radio.

But, just prior, to him selling it, I was talking big shit, back to this older, Caucasian fool, named Don Blackwell, who was three years older, than me, across the street, from my house, in retaliation, for him, racially slurring me. And, I was on him, like flies, on shit, with your mamma roasts, to the point where, he got so infuriated, that he gave chase, on his ten speed bike. Chasing me, all the way up to my front yard and I skidded losing control and I slid up underneath my dad’s G.T.O. bumper once again knocking myself out completely unconscious.

Then, all that I remember was being, waking up, by my dad. So I guess, that the crashing sound, of my bike, hitting his car, alerted him, that something happened, in the front yard drive way, so he went outside to investigate, and he found me, laying there, unresponsive, for a minute. But once, I slightly, came to and I recognized, where I was at, and what had transpired, as well as, who I was talking to. I immediately stated, that I was alright, even though, I really wasn’t, because me and my dad really didn’t have a relationship although he was always there at home or either at work working hard at two jobs, we never talked, it was basically a hey, what’s up pop, and a simple utterance of hey, back to me in response, type of communication that we had, between us Whenever, I would see him, after school, or he would simply say, alright, see you guys later. Whenever, he was about to depart from the house, off to his, second job at night.

THE MAKING OF A MANCHILD

The reason being, is because, I guess we were too much alike, you know two hard headed and quick tempered people don’t mix and my mom had to play the role of a mediator, because my dad, was so hot headed, and I wasn’t, intimidated, by his military tactics. If anything at all, it only made me more rebellious. So, I basically stayed a soldier to the streets, considering myself, as a rebel with a cause, and that cause, was to find some sort of equality, being I was the only African-American male, in the community, all alone in this struggle, and my dad, really didn’t have my back, he was more worried about, how bad, that I made the Parrish name look, because he, came from, a prestigious family, and of course, the United States military brainwashing, that he was subjected to, during his twenty year service, in the Navy, didn’t help the matter, any.

So, he expected me, to carry myself at a higher stature, but I just don’t think that he ever, took the time, to put himself, in my shoes. Like, when I was going to war with the Mexicans, on the street behind my house, my dad, would be talking Spanish over the fence to them, like it was all to the good, but only if he knew. So I used to feel somewhat betrayed, because although, I never snitched, common sense, should have told him, what time it was, and for him, to come to my defense. However, I was routinely, subjected to double jeopardy. Where, I would have to present, my own defense, to the principle at school, and to my dad’s court-martial, held at home, afterwards, once I got home, from school.

MY 1st AND ONLY BLACK FRIEND AT SCHOOL

Now, in the fifth grade, there was finally a black kid, that went to my school, his name, was Daurice Smith, we were, in the same grade and class. However, he didn’t have to, go through, all of the racial slurs and racially motivated fights, because, I already suffered and paved, the way for him, not to, have to. So, I myself, jokingly, used to haze him, by singing, and changing, the words, to Prince’s song, Little Red Corvette, to little black Daurice, eating his chicken grease, ha! Ha! Just to haze him, as an introduction the unseen racial barrier that still existed in Ramona, California, at the time, as a reminder to him. That everything wasn’t, all that it seemed to be, in the town, that we lived. Because, he had it so easy, at our school, being that the racial wall had already been torn down, by me. However, outside of school, there were plenty of racists that lived amongst our community, for instance our fellow student’s parents, and more so their grandparent’s, and I didn’t want him, to forget that.

Therefore, I put him up underneath my wing, and elaborated, on how, I managed to tear down the walls of racism, in the town. In which, where, he was shown, not only by stories, but, by my continuous rebellious acts. Such as, my utter refusal to salute, the American flag, during the pledge of allegiance. That is, unless of course, we had some cake, and ice cream, or something like that, on any particular special event. Then, I would gladly participate in the program.

I remember, I used to go get Daurice, from his house, to ride B.M.X. Bikes with me, we used to pop wheelies and ride our bikes into each other kicking our feet out attempting to knock each other, off our bikes, like jousting, but we used to call it, bike war. It was fun, sometimes either me or him, would end up straight flat out, on our backs. We had, a hell of a lot of fun, whenever, he was able, to come out and play, which was seldom, because his parents, were strict. So the time, that we spent together, after school, was minimal, and not only that, but short lived. Because, they didn’t even live in Ramona, for a whole year, before they ended up moving, from the town.

MY OLDER SISTER COMES TO MY AIDE

So, I was on my own again, but like I said before, it was no big deal, because, I was envied, by my Caucasian peers. I was cool as a breeze, plus, I possessed the tanned skin color, that they’d die for, which was my most famous roast against them, when they used to call me racist shit. When, I was growing up, before I took the reins, and started controlling things. But, I still used to get flak, from the students, in the higher grades, then me. I remember one time, this fool named Christopher West, was calling me Buckwheat, nigger, and some more shit. And, I really couldn’t do too much, to defend myself, being that, I was barely in the fifth grade, and he was in the seventh, and corn fed, so I stalled him out.

Until, I saw my older sister Denise Parrish, who was also in the seventh grade, coming up, from behind him, through the park. Then I launched, my arsenal, of dehumanizing, comical jokes, about him, his mom, and the rest of his family members, that I could think about at the time, to make him irritate. And, right before, he came forward to attack me, my sister, blindsided him, with a brash of windmill punches, until he ran off. It was funny as hell, she beat that fool up, so bad. That I never, had any more problems out of him, when we crossed paths. Because, he knew that my sister, would kick his ass again or either worse we’d jump him.

MINOR LEAGUE BASEBALL CHAMPIONS

En-light of that, me and my sister Denise, became more close, even though, there was a two year gap, between us. Because, we previously used to occasionally go at odds, when we were younger, because she always seemed to get everything her way, at home. I mean she could get me in trouble anytime she felt like it by calling either my mom or dad, and telling on me. Whenever, they were gone and we were there at the house alone, and I wanted to watch something on T.V. or something for instance, and she wanted to watch something else. Now, she was older than me true enough, but she isn’t her biological daughter, so I used to find that kind of ironic, that he seemed to give more of a fuck about her, then me. Therefore, when we used to play co-ed baseball on the same little league baseball team, called Sanford & Son’s hardware. I used to take out my frustrations on her, by throwing the ball to her smoking hot. When, she was playing first base, and I was playing short stop. I also played pitcher, left field, and the position, that I hated the most, catcher. En light of the fact, that I had to wear, that hot ass protective gear and be squatting down, all of the time, plus its, dangerous. I remember, one time, this girl, named Katy Barnwell, was up to bat, at practice and she stepped back, and swung the bat, hitting me, dead, in the back of the head, which knocked me, face down, in the dirt.

As a result, I got T.K.O. Technically Knocked Out, but I shed no visible tears. The only way, you could tell, that I was teary eyed, was from the mud, that was in the corner, of my eyes. From the mixture, of the dirt and the tears, I shed. Nonetheless, I dusted myself off and then, assumed my position, at catcher. Afterwards, our team went on to win, the minor league baseball championship game. And, that was a wrap for me and my sister, neither one, of us, went on to play major league baseball, even though, we were the top seed players, on our minor league, baseball team. With the fact, that our dad, didn’t go, to any one of our games, that we had, as a mitigating factor of us, not being motivated to play sports, on an organized team. When, we decided not to go on to play for a major league baseball team, because, I myself, felt like he didn’t even give a fuck about me. Especially, after seeing, all of my friends dads, in the stands, watching them play. Hell, even Kurt’s and Jacksons’s dad, used to be in the stands with his video recorder, taping their games, and he used to beat their asses, all of the time.

MONEY AND THE POWER

Later, I would go on, to become a hustler, and ended up, finding many ways, to come up, with extra money. To buy, my junk food with, from selling fruit, from mine and my next door neighbor’s fruit trees, in our back yards, to selling parsley, as marijuana, to the kids at school. I would just smoke, a little hit, of it, and pretend to be, all high. And they’d, claim to be also, just to be cool, and fit in. I assume, but whatever the case was, I know, that I was making my money. That is until, I ran out, of the product. And, I couldn’t, find any more, inside, of my mom’s, kitchen cabinets. So I came up, with another plan. I’d buy some, sweet tart candy, and use the yellow ones, to pass off, as cocaine. I would simply, crush them down, into a fine powder, which, would then, appear to be white. Then, I would, sale lines, to them, to snort, which was another, big money making scheme. Which, I managed to pull off, for a while, by playing, a smart game, in which, where, I let a few of the students, in the in crowd, in on the fact that the dope was fake. Then, I propositioned them, to join in on the scheme, and pretend to be snorting the sweet tarts, along with me, and claim that they were high off it, as well. And, I would break, them off, a percentage, of the monies, that I was collecting from the operation, in which, where, they all agreed. Therefore, I was in the money. I was coming up, with funky ass shit, like this all, of the time.

I was also the kid that was all into martial arts. So, I would steal karate moves, from off, of channel fifty-one’s, Black Belt Theater, and use them, on my adversaries, in the streets, and I also took those skills, with me, to school, and utilized them, there as well. When, I started this shin kicking game, where one person, kicks the other person’s shin, until one gives up. But, the catch is that following being in so much pain, that you’ll have to hobble around, to shake off the pain, after being kicked in the shin, by your opponent. Revenge, becomes the motivating force, which compels one, to continue on, with the game. Because, then it was their turn, to kick, their opponent’s shin.

Therefore, it’s very addictive, and that’s exactly, what we were all, looking for, excitement and pleasure, and, the pain, was a small price to pay, to feel so alive and vivid. With this artificial high, that was free of cost, coming by the way, of an adrenaline rush, from the pleasure and the pain that was inflicted, by this game, and everybody, loved it.

I remember we used to play it every day, before class started that year, as if we were some drug addicts, addicted to drugs. Luckily, I was one of the best ones, at it, being that I started the game, and all. Therefore, I didn’t, have to endure, too much pain, and basically, the only person, I couldn’t defeat, at the game, was this dude, named Edward Topia. He had enormous, calf muscles, and powerful kicks, that would break people down. So, you’d think twice, about continuing, on playing the game, with him, after the very first kick, if you were smart. But, I couldn’t, put my pride aside, because, after all, I was the person that started the game, at our school. So, in essence it was a double edged sword, being the creator, of the game. Because, whenever Edward wanted to play the game, I was the one that was obligated to partake in a match against him, because of it. When, everyone else was free, to bow down gracefully to his challenges, without losing face.

SEA SICK

I remember one time, that we got a break from school, and was able to get away, and go deep sea fishing with my uncle Y.T. Young Terrance, Parrish and his son, and my cousin, Jamal Parrish. I was very excited to be going deep sea fishing, and was perfectly fine, until we were so far out in the ocean, that I couldn’t see any dry land, around me, after, I looked to the North, South, East, and West. Therefore, I began to start getting a little paranoid, but when I laid my eyes on a walrus, that was swimming, on its backside, right along the side of the boat, blowing water out of its mouth, way up in the air. It was enough for me, to become extremely sea sick, with the thought of all of the other sea creatures that were out there in the sea, that could eat us alive, if the boat had sunk, into the ocean.

So, I had to go into the cabin of the deep sea fishing boat, despite taking medication, which was supposed to have prevented sea sickness, prior to our departure. Due to the fact, that the waves were moving the boat around so violently. So, I stayed in there, until they got through fishing, only attempting to exit the cabin, one time, before I immediately, returned back to my seat, next to some pretty white girl, that I was previously, literally leaning my head on, because, I was so sick. Now, once we got back on dry land, I was back to normal. However, it was a great experience, despite me, getting all sick, because, it let me feel and except being helplessly isolated, at the whelms of God and his perfectly designed, marine life ecosystem. Honestly, it was a spiritual high that I will never forget.

BROKEN HOME

Now, around about that time, things at home weren’t going so well, between my mom and dad. Because, they were always fussing and fighting, over the most stupid stuff, that I ever heard off, and my dad, would sometimes physically abuse, my mom, when he got drunk, throughout the years, when me and my sisters, were little kids. But, they tapered off, from all of the bullshit, and settled down, when I was about nine years old. I remember the last fight that my parents had, vividly. Because, my grandpa Johnston, had to come over to our house, all the way from Leventon, and kick my parent’s bedroom door in. In order, to get my mom, from out of their bedroom, because my dad, was holding her hostage, behind a locked door.

I remember, after he did so, she took all the food out, of the refrigerator, while we were getting our clothes together, after she told us, to do so. Because, we were going to stay, at our grandparents house, in Leventon. Because, my mom, was fed up, with my dad’s shit. I however, had different plans, I was like a king at school, back in Ramona, and all the girls were on my jock, and I had no thoughts of leaving my legendary lifestyle that I had worked so hard for. So I told my mom, that I didn’t want to leave all, of my friends at school, and that I wanted to go back home, to Ramona, after we stayed at our grandparent’s house, for a couple of days.

Then, she called me a traitor, which I didn’t mind, because, I felt like I was being loyal, to my soil back home, in the town, hell I didn’t grow up, in Leventon, you know. So, I called my dad, to come, and pick me up, which he was happy to do. Only because, now he had some leverage, on getting my mom, to come back home too. Because, as it was, all of his begging my mom back, without me there, was fruitless. However, he managed to convince her, to come back home, soon after, I went back home, and he never put his hands, on her, ever since. He’d just run out, to the bar and slam the front door, on the way out the door. Whenever, they would get into a verbal dispute, and he got too angry to deal, with the situation.

MONEY AND THE HONIES

. Now, once back to school, I was at it again, making my money. This time, by fixing, my classmate’s grades, for fifty cents, which went a long way, back in the mid-eighties. What I’d do, was use my old, scotch tape trick, by covering, the classroom door jam, and then, I would double back, around to the school grounds, and sneak into the classroom. Then, change their grades, from whatever to A’s and B’s wherever, the teacher, slipped up and used pencil, and from F’s to B’s, despite her written it down in pen, to record our grades, in and of course, you know that, I changed, my grades too, first and foremost. So, I was in the money, once again, for sure, wanting for nothing, at all. I had all the candy, sodas, and beef jerky, that I could ever want or need, and the little white girls, in the fifth and sixth grade, was in love, with me, because of it. I was the one, that all, the prettiest girls, was choosing and I was French kissing, them all, right on, the school grounds. From, Sara Banks, and Diana Benson, to my truest love Kimberly Bartell; she was down, for whatever.

I remember, one time, we went to the movies, when we were in, the seventh grade. My older sister, Denise Parrish and her boyfriend, Jarome McDaniel, took us and dropped us, off. Now, at the time, I was kind, of intimidated, being out in public, with a white girl, in the mid-eighties, nineteen eighty-five, to be exact. And it showed, because, my palms were all sweaty, and I was nervous, as hell, visibly. So nervous, in fact, that I didn’t, even kiss her, all throughout, the movie. But, of course, you know, that I gave her, a good night kiss, though, I was a young mac, what do, you expect.

However, I never tapped that ass, though. But, I know, that I could have, because, she was head over heels, for me. I just didn’t, push the issue, in time, and she ended up, either moving, and or, going to another school, her eight-grade, school year. Therefore, I was once again, free to assume, the bachelors role. Now at the time, I was still a virgin, and was on the prowl, for some pussy. But, I didn’t, get any, until; I was twelve years old, and in the eighth grade. However, in the meantime, I was lucky and found my dad’s old stash, of pornographic magazines, in the trunk, of his G.T.O., from when, he was in the military. However, I damn near, killed myself, with them, by masturbating, to them, on a daily basis. But, at least, I was no longer horny, as I used to be, and all of the wet dreams were gone, but, I was still restless.

MARY-JAINE

Later on, I found the perfect cure for that, smoking weed, it calmed me down, and I had a homie, named Greg Velasquez, who would get me blazed free of charge. I remember I spent the night at his house and we got blazed all night long. He was a crazy ass stonier who had his whole room wall plastered with X-rated magazine photos I remember when I first walked into his room I was in awe. He then said, I bet you don’t even know what a clitoris is and I responded that right there where the light switch is at because he had a bitch posing spread eagle with the light switch protruding out from where the clitoris is at and he said, Yeah, that’s it. But, little did he know, that I had a stash, of my own, smut magazines.

Anyways, he then, pulled out his bong, and packed it, with some weed. Then, he handed it, to me, and said, fire, it up. So, I fired it up, and hit the bong, until I choked, on the smoke. Then, I passed it back, to him, and we smoked, until there wasn’t any left. Now, by that time, I was high as the sky, but I couldn’t go to sleep. Because, I was in fear, that I might, piss in the bed, so I convinced him, to pull an all niter, with me. As I would do, with everyone else, who’s house, that I spent the night over, at.

So, he asked me, if I wanted to blow, some more marijuana smoke, up in the air, and I was like, hell yeah, even though my head, was already bumping, on the moon. Then, he said, alright, I’ll be right back and he climbed, out his bedroom window. Now, after about five minutes later, he crawled back, in through it, with another, cool sized, sack of bud, that he got, from out, of his dad’s truck. Then, we really got fucked up, to the point, where, we got the munchies, and the next thing you know, we were in the kitchen raiding the refrigerator. Then, he pulled out some butter and eggs, and started frying, us up some eggs, which of course, started to make, loud popping and crackling noises.

That resulted, in his dad, waking up from out of his sleep, at four o’clock, in the morning. Afterwards, he got up and came into the kitchen, looking like Z.Z. top, with his long ass beard, and asked Greg, What in the fuck, did he think, he was doing? And, I was like O-shit, then Greg replied, what in the fuck, does it, look like, I’m doing? I’m cooking, some mother fucking eggs! Then, his dad went back, to his room, but I know, that he knew, that we were high. Because, you could smell it, all over us, and we were smoking, that shit, all night long. And, on top of all of that, his mom and dad’s bedroom, was directly across, from Greg’s room, so they had, to have, smelt it.

TRIPPLE (666) SATANIC-WHITE KIDS

Then, the next morning, his mom said, something, to him, about something, and he started, calling his mom, a bitch, and some more shit. Now, right then, I knew that I wasn’t going to hang around with him anymore. Based solely, on the fact, that he was too disrespectful to his mom, and after, he finished cussing, her out. She said, I bet Bryant, wouldn’t talk to his mom, like that, but I didn’t, even reply, to her statement, before, I left out of their house. Then, I managed, to taper off, my visits to his house, until the point that, I never even stopped, by his house at all, to see, what he was doing. While I was on, my way walking, to the store or whatever, and his house, was along the way, to the store, from my house.

However, before I managed to completely cut off and old friend, we did go to the Carson school dance, in Stanford. En-light, of the fact, that it was a combined dance, with our school and theirs, and he had invited me. And, unbelievably it was his mom, that drove us there, after he had cussed, her out. Anyways, once there, inside of the dance, everybody utterly refused to go out, on the dance floor, without me kicking it off first. And once, I did, I turned back around to find, the whole dance floor packed. It was a trip, like a scene, out of a movie, or something. But, that’s just the way that it was, being that I was the only black, at the dance. Therefore, it was expected, of me, we’ll at least they acted, like it was.

Nonetheless, this was the last time that I really hung around, with Greg. Aside, of the time, that I was walking, through the Mexican’s street, behind my house, which he lived on. And, he offered me some of the Red Man, chewing tobacco that he had. In which, I accepted his offer, after, he had basically peer pressured me, into taking a plug of it, being that we were previously good friends, up until the point that he disrespected his mom like he did in front of me, by calling her a bitch, and not only that but we had a mutual respect for one another, ever since, we had a hell of a clash, in the fourth grade. When, he was one of the last of the dying breed of racists, at my elementary school. In which where, me and him, had a toe to toe fight that went on, for a little over a minute straight. Now, I ain’t going to lie, he was hitting me harder, than I can ever remember being punched, by any motherfucker. And, I’ve been in a gang of fights, all throughout my life. But, I utterly refused to lose, and I was hitting him back as hard as I possibly could, until I finally made him quit. By that time we had punched each other with head shots approximately ten times apiece, with me landing that last bomb that made him, decide to bow down.

Now, after I heard him cursing out his own mom, I realize why he was hitting so hard. That fool was on some demonic shit for reals. Anyways, I remember the chewing tobacco, to be some of the nastiest shit that I’ve ever put into my mouth. Which, was then, followed by a light headiness, that had me, all fucked up, and off balance. So I made an excuse to go home, then I hurried on around the corner and out of the sight of him, to spit the chew out.

Now once, I got home, I found that my mom, had cooked my favorite dish, which just so happened, to be lasagna. But, I wasn’t, even up to eating, any of it, all I wanted to do, was to go, into my room and jump, in my bed, and go, to sleep. But, my mom, keep coming, into my room, to check, on me, because, I said, that I wasn’t hungry, and she knew, that lasagna, was my favorite dish. However, I finally, got her, to leave me alone, so that I could sleep off, the headache, after, I told her, that I just had, a really bad, head ache. Now, afterwards, I cut Greg, all the way off, but I still, used to get high, with my other, stonier homie, named William Madrid. We used to get high, right there, on school grounds, during our recess breaks. Now, this dude was cool as a breeze, and respectful, so I could blaze with him, and blaze we did.

CANDY-ASS

I remember, one time this dude named Valentino Garnica, who was also another relentless motherfucker back in the days, with his families racist views. Until that is, when I hit him with a loaded punch, after I got tired of him and his once racist ass families, take on black people. Which, made his ass think twice, and reanimate the fact that, my race of people, aren’t as ignorant as what they previously believed us to be. When, he thought that he was going to outsmart me, by using a stick in a fight against me, when we were younger, after he agreed to fight me head up. And, ran up on me with it, and swung thinking I was going to run, instead I stepped up and hit him so hard, with the home-made pair of brass knuckles, that I had made prior to me, Kurt, and Jackson, going around the corner, to meet him so I could give him the head up fade, that him and his family was begging for. That he found a newfound respect for me, and with the stick still in hand, he chose to bow down. And, from that point on, I never heard a racial slur come out of his mouth or anyone of his family members, when I rode my bike around the block, by their house. As they used to so often used to do, previously.

Anyhow, he bet me a dollar, that I wouldn’t bite this girl named Cindy, on the ass, for a dollar. So I laid in wait until Cindy, got close enough to me, before I gave chase and tackled her down to the ground and bit her on the ass cheek, it was funny as fuck. Everybody started to bust up laughing, and she got all embarrassed, and then went to the principal’s office to tell the principle Mr. Theorpoles on me. Soon afterwards, the principle called my name through the loud speaker to report to the office, which was nothing new. Now upon my arrival at the office he asked me, who I wanted to call to the school off of work, my mom or dad. In order, to come down to the school to resolve the issue, which of course I called my mom, because my dad, was a military freak, who had little to no understanding, in the insubordination, to authority.

Then, Mr. Theorpoles also called Cindy’s mom to the school, and I just know, that I was in big trouble, but my good sense of humor, got me out of it. When, I seen Cindy’s mom, and was like, damn Cindy, your mom, looks prettier than you, and everybody, even the principle, started laughing. Now, at that time, Cindy was embarrassed, because she knew that it was the truth. Nonetheless, I ended up receiving nothing more, than a little slap, on the wrist, and the dollar, from Valentino, for biting Cindy, in the ass cheek, ha! Ha!

CHEAT-SHEET

I was mischievous as hell, I recall the time, that I devised a cheating pattern, for Mr. Daniel’s class. I found him using the same pattern throughout the text book to give us tests so what I would do is write the answers out on my test paper and place it under my desk in between my text book and when the coast was clear I would switch papers, from the one that I was acting like, I was working on, to the one, up underneath my desk.

And, it worked like a charm, that is until, my dumb ass, put the scheme on the black market, and started charging my classmates, for the perfect design, to get guaranteed A’s, on every test, in his class. Which, I sold, for one dollar apiece and I had the whole class, purchase the blueprints, therefore, I came up on, close to thirty dollars, but it wasn’t worth it. Because, with everyone doing it, it caused a whole lot, of noise, to the point where, it would gain Mr. Daniels’s attention, and he’d quickly look up, which made it harder, to switch the papers, and sometimes everybody, would synchronously switch their papers, which was an obvious sign, of foul play.

But, he never caught anyone, in our class, he just started to walk around the class, whenever, we took our tests, but it didn’t stop me. Due to the fact, that I was quick handed, and knew exactly, how to slide the dummy test, out of sight, in order to replace it, with the cheat test, that I had concealed, underneath my desk, in my textbook. However, most of the