Broken Babies by Vincent Morris & Generation Next

Author:Vincent Morris & Generation Next [Morris, Vincent & Next, Generation]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: United States, Urban, African American, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Amazon: B015T1KEVY
Publisher: GENERATION NEXT
Published: 2015-09-24T04:00:00+00:00

5

BLACK MEN BROKEN

After his restaurant burned, so did Tremaine’s spirit. The pro black soldier for free enterprise was transformed into just another nigga. He used to be energetic on the block, trying to get his weight up so he could transform the wealth into something his people he could be proud of. He wasn’t drug dealing to become a kingpin. He was dealing to escape the trap, only to have the trap consume him. What would his son’s future be now? Was he doomed to a life of crime? Where was hope or would there ever be any?

Tremaine usually stood up after he fell. There was nothing or no one that could break him, not even haters, promises of death or incarceration. Ninety percent of the money he invested in his dream had been eaten by the flame. There wasn’t enough money to rebuild even if he wanted to. The only thing he had the money to do was buy coke and make a fast flip. He’d told everyone he’d lead his people to the promise land and actually believed it. Something as simple as defective wiring brought him back to reality. Depression was an understatement.

Tremaine didn’t leave his room for a week. It showed and smelled on him. His facial hair grew out, the image of a homeless person. Chris wasn’t used to this version of his best friend. In addition to being the boss this was his role model and road dog. It was like seeing Jesus on crack or God celebrating a cesspool. Tremaine had always been strong for him. It was time for him to be strong for Tremaine.

Walking into his room he could see that Tremaine had reached his breaking point. No women. He’d jerked off to girls on the internet so much the room smelled like rotting semen. There were empty pizza boxes all over the place, weed ash, hot funk, and Tremaine laying in the corner like a broken man. It was time for Chris to do something before his friend died in his own piss, shit, and semen.

“So this is what it’s come to?”

“What?”

“You’re pathetic man. Like a street person. Worse, because at least they get up and walk in the sun. This shit is depressing.”

“A black man’s dream burning down is depressing.”

“So what you gon do? Lay here?”

“Another week. Then we get back on the block.”

“What you mean get back on the block?”

“I clean myself up and we get back on the block. That crack game baby. You know that’s all we got.”

“What happened to the freedom talk?”

“With what money mutha fucka? I lost my dream in a matter of a day. Everybody’s right man. We just niggas. We might as well be niggas man.”

“And what about the black man?”

“Save that shit for Barack. They let a nigga or two win but this is what we are man. We might as well be that.”

A look of pain comes over Chris’s face. Without realizing it Tremaine had changed the man he was. It’s funny, but he used to think the way Tremaine did.

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