‘Damn another funeral, an-oth-er funeral’ is what Trigga uttered when he put down the phone. It was the old friend Boonie who had passed away. He had just finished talking to his mourning mama on the phone. Boonie just got murdered in cold blood. Trigga had a good relationship with him and there is one thing he said that Trigga will never forget until he himself is 6 feet underground, ‘Life is like a dice game, you can throw whatever and it may not always be in your favour the next thing you know your worst enemy could become your neighbour.’
His death however was no surprise to Trigga. Many kids lost their childhood from guns, though not many people on the street cry no more because countless children have died for fun. Some people have started to celebrate it to death and whish they could die themselves, so they could get out of the vicious cycle which is life. He spent most weekends at funerals. How could he have a childhood when he had a funeral every weekend? This messed him up. It was as if he was running out of tears. Every night he cried, it was just like a daily routine.
He was starting to get as ruthless as he could and his heart beat no fear. He was hiding anger under his skin that was building up, and this was going to erupt one day and reveal his malicious side. Smoking weed was the one thing that kept his calm but he knew its effects would soon be far less and the drug’s effects would ware out. He never felt so much peace from doing anything else. For him it was like going back to the womb. Trigga was just your average juvenile delinquent in the hood to start off with, but nobody knew the evil he would do when he got a little bigger!
Some people in the hood he grew up in were crazy, far worse at first. Everyday he was seeing visions of people smoking and catching vapours. He was just influenced, all he ever dreamt of was to be a thug, but he didn’t realize that his dream would one day come true. No one saw it coming but He was to become the neighbourhood kingpin.
His father was a junkie, injecting death into his arms. His mother died from HIV, his grandfather was sentenced 65 to life as he was guilty of armed robbery and he was not in touch much with his brother. Now a friend whom he knew for years died, He did not have many people left, one of the few comrades he had was Lil’ knucklehead, he was a soldier to the fullest, down for his friends and always the first to spit bullets. He had been to so many reform schools in the end they had to let him go.
It was just another sunny day in southern California. #07 Happy Street is where Trigga lived. His street was full of havoc. Every Halloween you could be sure to check out the murder scene he could not help but duplicate the violence seen on the streets. Although the streets name was happy street it was quite ironic. Its obvious people would rather call it Danger Street. There was drive-bys and homicides most of the time and if you walked through the hood without getting shot, it was like parting the red sea, basically meaning it was a miracle, you were lucky. Even the cops were scared of the street. Dozens of Delinquencies lived on the street. They were literally hundreds of adolescence penitentiary bound. Trigger came home from the shop. He was 16 but was not aloud out after 6 o’ clock. His father never knew the evil he was capable of. His father, although a junkie still showed him love. They were very poor, cereal but no milk to name but one problem.
He never wanted Trigga to turn out bad. As soon as he had enough money he would move out but the problem was they never had the money and even though Trigga could get the money if he really tried by selling dope, the truth was he never really wanted to leave, he never told his dad but this was where he felt at home, the kind of person he was to become was a reflection of the street and he loved being scandalous doing misdemeanours to show off with his friends. He had a brother too although he didn’t hang around the house much his all night dope dealing got him out of touch although when he was in the house, smoking weed like it isn’t no thing was an everyday thing in his household and drinking liquor until his out cold. It was not just him but his dad too. He was born without a silver spoon just another teen penitentiary bound.
It all started because of a girl called Precious he had his eyes set on, not because he himself was poor but because Precious was. The problem was she was from the ghetto and to win the heart of a ghetto girl he needed gold chains, some extra change and the street fame, so Trigga and his man, Lil’ Knucklehead decided on a plot to make a profit involving their glocks spitting. They were going to use this plot several times in order to get the sufficient amount of cash. First time they used it was on a dark cloudy Friday. It was cloudy enough to not see a star in the sky.
They called some dealers over in an alley with no lights on. As soon as the dealers stopped their drop top Jag and their Mercedes Benz on the road in front of the alley Trigga and Lil’ Knucklehead opened fire with 2 semi-automatic nines, bullets sprayed over the whole of the two cars, The whole block lit up while the guns were firing. The dealers were sure to die, and that was it. As fast, and easy as that, As 2 months went on they continued to do this.
Once he got his gold Lexus and his gold chains which he used all his money on.
Trigga made a visit to the street in which Precious lives. He started getting to know her. 10 minutes later she’s snorting dope in the back seat of Trigga’s Lexus. He drives home. Trigga wants to go to the movies but their both broke, so they argue and play fight all day and make love until the daylight.
A few weeks later she tells him she’s pregnant and he’s amazed. He wants to marry her now and is so full of happiness.
The next day Trigga finds a job, an honest living. He started working at the local baker shop. While Trigga was working Precious was lonely, Lil’ Knucklehead sees her across the road. He goes with her to her house when no one is in. She’s getting with Lil’ Knucklehead. He spends a couple of hours at her house. As they left the house many people were surprised to see the 2 together as everyone knew that it was Trigga’s girl. The neighbourhood’s buzzing, now people are talking
Trigga’s getting pictures of the both of them walking hand in hand; he just could not understand how his baby’s mama could disappear with another man, his best friend!
Trigga comes home at 6 o’ clock after clearing up the shop. The day had already started to get pitch black. Although best friends before, Trigga and Lil’ Knucklehead are in an all out war over a friend they hardly know. He found them both just leaving the house. Trigga went crazy. He reached out slowly in his pocket took 5 fingers gripped them tightly on his .45 chrome; he had a dead aim to his brain with an infra-red sight. A sure aim and the fact that no lights were on, on the street in which she lived helped him make sure the infra- red was pointing straight to his head. Lil’ Knucklehead took his glock slowly trying to make sure Trigga did not notice.
Trigga just turned his jet black eyes to him as quick as a cobra which gleamed in the sight of his gun and then smiled a wicked smile. They opened fire 3 bodies dropped, Precious, Lil’ Knucklehead and Trigga. A week later they were buried, and as long as the sun rises in the East and sets in the West, the same thing happened over and over again but in a different town and involving different names.