A Moment In The Life of G. C. Harris

I just saw some dude carrying his change in a Crown Royal bag...I haven't seen somebody do that since the mid 90s...People us to us the purple bags with the gold stitching for some very important things...They were a must in the hood house hold...I've also heard of using them for quilts. I've seen people using them for carrying their cameras, using them for dice bags, and storing fishing reels in them. I heard they're good for using in bank robberies and storing illegal substances in...I would know nothing like that...Talking about that bag brings me back to one of my scariest childhood moments (this flash back is brought to you by Twin Lakes Community...9406 Labette Drive to be exact). Well as a child my frontyard was the after school, weekend, and summer area for the ghetto olympics. I had the biggest yard on the block and my momma even provided the Kool-Aid (everybody loved my momma)...My yard has produced many Division 1 and pro athletes. Anyway, we were playing football one day and I was out their scrambling like McNabb on they ass...And I threw the ball up...It was one of the prettiest throws of my life...But it went to far...Pierre was parked on the other side of the street...Pierre was the neighborhood dope dealer...His ride was fresh...He had the typical dope dealer car at that time, a Ford Mustang V8 5.0, Candy Apple Green with gold flakes, and 100 Spoke Triple Gold Daytons...And guess what? I hit his car. I thought my life was over. Everybody knew Pierre was crazy...I ain't talking all that n@#$% crazy type crazy...I'm talking about Bishop from Juice crazy...This is the type of dude that would pistol-whip his own momma...I've seen his waste some dude in the street for something stupid...He us to carry his S&W 45 in a...guess what again? Crown Royal Bag...He was the type of thug that would keep his on the dash...He just didn't care...And it didn't help that his little brother was over their playing with us...He was the hood snitch...And he had that "Imma tell my brothah" look on his face...Well I ducked and dodged Pierre for about a week...But later on that next week he caught me at the neighborhood corner store...He told me to come over to the car...I thought I was just about to take my last steps...But I wasn't about to be no punk...So I strolled over their. He asked me did I hit his car last week with the football. I told him I didn't mean to (all the bitch came out of me)...He told me thats cool. He started to reach for his damn Crown Royal bag...He went inside the bag...I knew I was going to be another statistic...I closed my eyes because I didn't want to see what was going to happen to me...He started laughing at me and told me in these exact words, "n@#$% go get me some Hot Fries and a Jungle Juice, thats the least you can do for hitting my ride"...He handed me a dollar and some change and I took off like Toby on Roots...I returned to his car and he told me, "keep the change, keep the ball out the streets, don't be hitting car cause n@#$%s crazy out here these days (how can he call anybody crazy), and tell your sister I said wuzup...He had this GRIN on his face...Word is that he had a crush on my sister...I don't know why thugs liked my sister...They thought she was the hood Naomi Campbell or something...But I'm glad Pierre took a liking to her...Cause I could of been another brother on the 10 o'clock news...The moral of this story is "Life is like a Crown Royal bag...You never know what the hell you gonna get...And keep the ball out the damn street...You subject to get killed"...I'll keep you posted