If it Aint One Thing it's Another

At first he wouldn’t go into the bullpen when the guards had taken off his handcuffs; the other detainees didn’t look right to him. They all looked like worms with do-rags.

Kalif began to scream. ”Aaaaaaahh...no! No! No!” The guards jumped back and looked at one another. Kalif continued to scream and hold his head. The niggas in the bullpen didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him. They didn’t know that he was on his last dust trip.

The correction officers called for back-up to get Kalif inside the pen. His fingers were wrapped so tightly around the bars from the outside that they had to be pulled off one by one. The officers finally got him inside the pen and slammed the gate shut behind him.

Kalif ran from corner to corner of the pen, screaming like a madman. Finally, he stopped in one corner and stood there with his back to the wall. My God, he thought. Fucken aliens everywhere...do they have three feet?

One of them was coming toward him now. Kalif started screaming like somebody had his balls in a vice grip. ”Back the fuck up!! N-o-o-o-o!” he screamed in terror. The alien was saying something to him now, but he couldn’t really hear him. All of the other aliens started to laugh. They didn’t know what his malfunction was, and he screamed and yelled until the C.O.’s moved him to another cell.

Kalif curled up on the floor into a ball and wondered where all the aliens had come from. He wondered how long they had been on the planet and how many of them there were; they seemed to be everywhere. He bet that Lydia had called them on him. He was sure of it. He lay on the floor rocking, waiting for his name to be called.

Before seeing the judge, Kalif met with his attorney and was told what his charges were. He didn’t understand what was going on. He didn’t remember doing any of those things, and when the bailiff called his name and docket number, he jumped at the court officer when he walked up to take him to see the judge. That was the wrong thing to do; he was tackled to the floor and handcuffed so tightly that blood came out of his wrists.

The district attorney read off the charges against Kalif and asked that he be held without bail. Kalif’s lawyer recommended that he undergo a psychiatric evaluation to determine his mental state. The judge agreed, just based on Kalif’s behavior in the courtroom. Kalif was taken back to the bullpen and waited to be transferred to Rikers.

Petie decided to get a hotel room and stay in the city instead of going back to Roz’s place in Queens. He went to the Fame Hotel on 135^th Street and got a room. He didn’t care that the precinct was right down the block; nothing mattered anymore. Renee had him fucked up.

Petie got upstairs and laid his burner on the bed. He went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror and then wiped his face off with the towel that the rinky-dink hotel had provided.

It was early, and he still had to see Ladelle to find out what was too important to be discussed over the phone. He lay back on the bed and thought about everything that had happened since he’d come home. All this shit was Share’s fault. She was the one who had started all this shit.

Petie was definitely in denial. He just couldn’t stand the fact that Share had cut him off. Bitches didn’t cut him off. He cut them off. It was Share’s fault that there was a manhunt going on for him after being home for only two months. If it ain’t one thing it’s another , he thought.

He tried to call Renee at her sister’s house, but she wouldn’t come to the phone. Then he called Roz in Queens and told her he was going to rest in Manhattan for the night. ”Keep your eyes open, and make sure you make it back here safely—you hear me, baby boy?” she said.

”I will. Good lookin’ out, ma—one.” Petie snapped his cell phone shut. He had always been feeling Roz. She was a thoroughbred, and bitches weren’t built like her anymore. Finally he dozed off.

His cell phone rang, waking him up. It was Ladelle, telling him to meet him by the water. Petie put the burner in his waist and locked the hotel door before taking the steps, two at a time, to go and meet him.

Ladelle was already parked, and Petie pulled up alongside him and got out of his truck. Ladelle did the same. He didn’t waste any time; he dropped it like it was hot and told Petie about he and Renee.

Petie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ”What the fuck you mean you and Renee was sexually involved? So you tellin’ me you been fuckin’ my wife, dick? What kind of shit is that?” he asked Ladelle, hoping that this was just a bad joke.

”Yo, Petie, man, I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know how the shit happened. It ain’t like one day I woke up and decided I was going to fuck her. Nah, that’s not how it happened. We been doing this for a minute.” Petie looked at Ladelle, wondering if this was his best nigga standing before him or an imposter.

”Because, after all the shit that done happened with Lydia being taken hostage, my unborn’s life being put in danger and the gunplay at McDonald’s, it was like a wake-up call. Fuck that, dick. I’m trying to live right, and I think I owe it to myself and my unborn to get rid of the dirt in my life. I’m ready to give my life to God. You know what I’m sayin’?” Ladelle said, making a sincere effort to explain to Petie where he was coming from. Petie didn’t say a word, and his back was to Ladelle now.

Before Ladelle could say anything else, Petie swung back around and put his burner in his face. ”So you played me close all these years, and the whole time you was fuckin’ my wife? Now you want to come clean and give your life to God? Aiight, cool, I’m gon’ help you,” Petie said and pulled the trigger. Luckily, for Ladelle, the safety was still on the gun. In an instant he smacked the gun out of Petie’s hand. He tackled him to the ground and then punched him in the face. Petie head butted him, forcing him backwards. Ladelle jumped back on him and held him on the ground by his throat.

Ladelle was furious. ”You put a gun to my head? You talkin’ ‘bout all the years we stomped together, and you put a fucken burner in my face, dick?! You was never my nigga, doin’ some shit like that! I’d rather you fucked Lydia than put heat to my grill!” He released his grip from Petie’s throat and then went and picked the gun up from off the ground. He threw it at Petie. ”Do what you gon’ do,” he said. ”You punk muthafucka!!”

Petie took the safety off the gun and pointed it at Ladelle. Ladelle looked at him and turned his back. He heard Petie cock the gun. ”Yo, dick...dick!” Petie yelled out. Ladelle didn’t turn around. He kept it moving and headed back to his mother’s car. ”Yo, La, act like you don’t hear me and I’ma put two in your back!” Petie shouted.

Petie stood there with the burner in his hand. Ladelle’s words had stung him like a bumble bee. Petie watched him drive out of sight without once looking back.