49) ANOTHER DAY


Last week I decided that I needed to lose a few pounds...


My black ass is fat! The real reason I want to get my "healthy on" is because image is everything in the pen. There was a fight in the chapel Monday. A young black kid got his ass kicked bad. After the guards came they made every inmate in the chapel remove their shirts. (They were looking for cuts, scratches or bruises.) I got a real good look at my body and your boy is on busted status. Even my man Gold-T took a jab at me. Of course it was good natured, but it stung none the less. So I had a talk with an older Crip named, Chubb. Chubb and I are pretty cool and this nigga is ripped to perfection. His abdominal muscles are so well defined that his 12 pack abs are displayed prominently. (No homo.) So who better to get health tips from? Chub started me out on a walking regimen. 2 to 4 miles of walking twice a day 6 days a week. I was out doing my power walk thing when I saw him. "Him" being KK. KK is from my hood in Brooklyn. His younger brother and I were good friends in grade school. KK always had the freshest gear and the dopest cars. All the girls were on his dick back then. When I was about 10 years old my school (Nativity St. Peter Claver) had something like a "scared straight program." What this program did was take at risk kids an expose them to life in jail. It was suppose to scare you into staying on the straight and narrow road. The jail they took us to was Rikers Island.
I admit I was nervous as we pulled in, but when they took us to an actual cell block that's when I felt fear. Even though the inmates were locked in their cells our group of 40 students were in shock. The inmates were cursing, yelling and banging on their cell doors. A couple of kids started to cry. It got so bad that we could barely hear the guard speaking. That's when I heard a voice yell out, "Little Mike! Little Mike!" I looked to my left and there was KK looking out of his cell smiling. I spoke to KK and he called out to somebody else. By the time we made it to the end of the tier I saw three cousins, one uncle and a nigga that lived in the apartment below me. So much for being scared. It was more like a family reunion.

Somehow word got out about my journal. People are walking up to me introducing themselves and telling me their stories. The first couple of people that introduced themselves to me heard about my, "journal." The next few people said they heard I was writing a "magazine article" then it went to a "book" to a "TV series" and today it's a "motion picture."
They seem so excited when I pull out my pen and pad and listen to their story that I've decided to let them believe. I hope it doesn't backfire....