My mother, rest her soul, once told me, when I was seven years old, that the Lord gave his strongest soldiers the most henious battles because they could bare it. No matter how bad it looked there was always someone going through something worse than you.

I felt like I could whip everybody's ass when she told me that, but when I found her dead in the bathtub the next morning those words she told me felt like ice in my heart.

I still mourn her death thirty three years later. Who I am, who I was, who I should, would and could be were characters that lived inside me and made me who I was.

The blessings came in abundance when I stopped letting the past dictate me. The let downs showed me just how strong I was. The lessons were often times bittersweet, so I sucked on a lemon.

My been through was the unmarked road to my breakthrough. The setbacks caused those I thought were for me to leave me out in the cold alone. The miracles defined my testimony. The hate amongst my family taught me self-perservation.

With that in mind my grandparents came over, getting on my nerve with their illiterate asses.

"Boi, it's cluttered in hea," Gramma Blundy said. "And why it smell like ass and bacun? Opins ya windoes or sumthin! Whea ya brum so I can sweep ya durty flo."

Pa. "Git up and cook me sum swimps. I wan bout elem of em. I gots ta tayke may blud pressha medisin."

"Aw lawd mah husbind acktin like our grown chirren and I don't wanno swimps. I wan sausitz, nigga. Or sum poechopz."

Gramma hopped on my sofa. "Whutcha talm bout. Poechopz deez nuts in ya mouff doe. Tayke ya teefs out dis time. My nuts ah tyme sinsitive doe."

"Wash dem stank shits bitch. I speak fax!"

He glares at me. "Where da moken troll. Tha playoffs on."

"Cook sum collid greens and fush. Wrap da fush in luminum fearl and put it on da grull. Nah nah. You got sum cukkin earl? Fry sum okrahs."

"Ya puccie smell like salmens. Go wrench it off in da showahs."

I can't with these two clowns.

"Keep tryin me you unejumakated summabitch da crackahs gon take you outta hea pacifically on ah stretcha and da ambulambs ya strokeless dummie."

"Home Depoe having a sale."

"Whut bum."

"Foe walls cuz you ain't got none ya African booty sniffin scratcha!"

"All of ah suddenly I'ma shoot yo ass. Keep on doe."

I'm screaming. I'm going to hell. I laughed so hard Gramma yanked up her dress and pulled her panties to the side. "My puccie tighter than a rubbah band nigga. Kept ya ass for fiftea yeahs bitch made nigga."

I'm dead. I ran outta my house. Throw the whole grandparents away, fuck recycling... Damn I'm gonna need speech therapy after this.

TO BE CONTINUED

BOOK 6: OPERATION SIDE NIGGHAS, THE CONCLUSION Starts Now