I check my pockets, and quickly realize my ten-dollar bag of weed is gone. They got me for my weed, my Top paper, my lighter—everything. Those niggas was off they rockers, but I’m somewhat comforted by the fact they didn’t get the money tucked inside the bottom of my sock. But I’m still feeling irate over getting my ass whooped, and getting clipped for my reefer. Young bucks nowadays take shit to the extreme. They real extra with their shenanigans. I could press the doorbell like a civilized person, but after the brutal attack I endured, acting civilized is out of the question. I pound irritably on the door. “Evette!” I yell in fury. I count to ten, trying to calm myself down, but it doesn’t work. It occurs to me to look for a rock and bash out one of the glass panes at the top of the door. Before I get an opportunity to deface her property, Evette finally opens up. Looking a hot mess, she’s wearing a grandma nightgown and has a silk cap on her head. “What happened to you, Kaymar?”
