Thursday, December 18, 2008


I haven’t done any rehab since the surgery. Didn’t care. I’m one motivated motherfucker now. I’m back on my feet in no time. Have to wear braces on both legs, but I’m moving. A couple of months go by. Down to one crutch. Then just a cane. My Acheii’s cane. The wolf head. I use it, but I can get by without it in a week.

I’ve been thinking this whole time. How do I get these motherfuckers? They’ve been watching the house…where I go. They’ll be looking for me. I come up with a plan. Talk to my dad. He thinks it might work. And, it protects the girls and my folks if I fail.

We head to the mission. Make a big show of it. I want these fuckers to know I’m going. I just need them to let their guard down a little. We get to the mission. My dad gives me his old 380 Colt. Prays with me. Kisses me. There’s nothing at the mission for me now. My Acheii is dead. DĮĮD. The few that might remember me, that aren’t dead, live way out in the back country. The little girls that play with Ruby and Renee call me Tsii' yiiłch'iil. Curly hair. No one remembers Naaki. Too long ago.

I go the back roads to Crown Point. No bellagannos are going to follow me here. Hop a bus. Head back to LA. Time to do or die…Crip or cry.

On my last transfer. Back in the jungle. I look just like I did when I left long ago. Except for the cane. Some tiny Gs get on. Start fucking with the passengers. I tap the leader with my cane. He turns. Sees me.

“Jesus Christ...ain't you dead?”

“No, he ain't...neither am in my ride, mother fucker.”

They move like gahtsohs. Jack rabbits. I’m home.

Back with what’s left of my old set. Most of them are in the joint now. The ones that are left aren’t sure they want me back. They’ve been getting fat with me and BD out of the way. Time to remind them who I am.

“So, where you been, Duece?”

“You writin' a fuckin' book, cuz?”

“No, no, I, uh...I jus' askin'.”

“I’ll tell you where I been...doin’ your fucking job, motherfucker…findin' out who fuckin' rolled over on us...who got B.D. smoked...somebody's been sleepin' with the, you down for that shit, or not? Maybe it was you?”

“We know we down...jus' tell us, man...”

“That’s what I fucking thought…now, listen up. We got work to do.”


abaddon911 said...

And now I continue to pay my share of patience once again. Waiting like a dog at the family table for a tasty treat. Good work, my friend.
I wait with nervous energy usually reserved for events like public speaking or important sales presentations.
Can't wait.
But I will.

Christopher Blake said...

I hope I didn't make you wait too long...

abaddon911 said...

Not at all, you have been on fire lately! Keep them coming!


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Christopher Blake is a loving husband...devoted father...minister...crippled more than a little rough around the edges...