Wrong Answer
(book and online series release)
by author Michael Christopher Blocker.
Edited by Benita Blocker.
2017
Chapter two:
Payday weekend has finally arrived, and I’m meeting up with B-nasty to spend some of my hard earned money. The agenda is new clothes, new shoes, and some female companionship for the whole weekend. Now, this plan calls for an ounce of "gas" and 100 "Molly's" which I am about to cop from Nasty. I’m making sure this weekend is brought to its full potential. Anything else would be uncivilized. This is almost mandatory. I work too hard all week assembling go carts not to fully enjoy the weekend.
I pull up next to B-nasty’s Mitsubishi Eclipse. He gets out and jumps into my Mercury Cougar. He places pills in my center seat cushion and puts the ounce of gas under the seat. I can see that the ounce is wrapped thoroughly many times over, but I can still smell it loud and clear. I smelled it from the moment he sat in my passenger seat. I want to roll me a blunt so bad I can taste it! I pay him his money and we both get out of my ride to go inside the mall.
Shopping for new outfits and kicks happens every 2 or 3 weeks. I have to stay fly, and I’m sure B-nasty feels the same way. The way we live, this comes with the territory.
The mall is packed as usual. There’s “beautiful” everywhere I look. All these different flavors of females can make a brother’s head spin. Even the “cougars” are dimepieces nowadays. It’s hard to narrow down a selection. But someone has to do it. Might as well be me. After all, ya can’t have a party without some bad bitches, right?
Chapter Three
We decide to split up and meet back in an hour. We usually compete against each other to see who can get the most numbers. Nasty has cheated before though. Some of the numbers given to me were fake ones. That’s happened once or twice. Besides, today , I’m just not with it. Through all the competition, it would be nice to meet just one chick who’s real and can keep up with a nigga like me. I’m complicated, but at the same time, I’m not that hard to figure out. Ya feel me?
I stroll into FootLocker. I’ve had my eyes on a pair of of AirMax, and I’m buying them. I’ve already got two outfits to match them. As I’m standing at the checkout counter, I feel someone touch me on my right shoulder. Thinking it’s Nasty, I turn around with a “gas faced, cross-eyed” look. Even though my vision is a little distorted now from that pistol whipping that I received from my past "burglary went wrong" fiasco, I can still tell that this person behind me isn’t Nasty and they’re female.
As soon as I uncross my eyes, I’m staring into a pair of the prettiest grey eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. The face is a definite match, but right now, it’s showing shock and amusement. She’s trying to suppress her laughter. She is a very sexy ass White girl, and I’m wondering if she’s confused, so I say “What’s up? My bad about that, I thought you were someone else.” She giggles a little bit and says “I didn’t mean to catch you off guard. Really, but isn’t your name Chris or Christopher?” The only time I went by my middle name was when I was in prison and that was almost three years ago. She immediately sees that I’m a little uncomfortable. I ask her with all seriousness how she knows that name. She turns serious and tells me “Look, I thought you were someone I met a few years back, but I’m obviously mistaken, there’s no way in hell YOU’RE HIM!” Just like that she turns and starts walking off. Three thoughts run across my mind as I watch her walk away.
1. Did she just YELL at me?
2. She has a very fat ass, for a snowbunny, and
3. I think I’m in love!
I look around and note that everyone in FootLocker is staring at me. I forgot all about my AirMax’s and I take off after her. I cannot let her get away!
Please tune in NEXT Magnificent Monday for Chapter 4 of the book Wrong Answer. Thanks for following us!
#exonerateMichael A mind is a terrible thing to waste!
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