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Flash Fiction

Deblog 4: Nick Hood’s Story

Here we go:
Once upon a time around a certain click,
When people sported gear and lived life quick;
When laws were crazed and justice meant nothin’,
And people were behavin’ like they all took somethin’,
There was a young man who seemed misled
By real OG and this is what he said:
“Me and you, Nick, we gonna give some cash,
Robbin’ rich folks and makin’ tha dash”.
They took and gave to the poor — money came with ease.
But one wouldn’t stop, it’s like he had a disease.
He robbed another and another and a lawyer and a banker,
Tried to rob a man who was a doctor undercover,
The doc grabbed his arm, he started acting erratic.
He said “Keep still, young man, there’s no need for static.”
Hit him with a vaccine and gave him a look,
But little did he know the young man had a book.
Nick opened the tome and said “Let me hip you.”
The words were big and easy, for the doc’s view.
The doc got scared and the kid starts to figure,
“I’ll do years if I pull this mental trigga.”
So he cold dashed and ran around the block,
Doc texts the scoop to another lady doc.
The boy ran by a tree and there he saw the sista,
She holla’ed good and loud; he spat a quick rap but it went right past her.
Looked around good and from expectations,
So he decided he’d head for the subway stations.
But she was coming and he made a left,
He was runnin’ top speed till he was outta breath,
Knocked down a politician and swore he killed him;
He made his move to an abandoned building,
Ran up the stairs up to the top floor,
Opened up the door there, guess who he saw?
Broke down business dude, snortin’ coke,
Who no longer knew the meaning of water nor soap.
Nick said, “I need poems, hurry up, run!”
The dope fiend brought back a spanking rap run.
Nick went outside to find expensive cars all over,
Then he dipped into his ride, a kitted Range Rover.
Raced up the block doing 83,
Crashed into a tree near university.
Escaped alive though the Rover was tattered.
Rapped a quick ditty and all the docs scattered.
Ran out of stories and still had static;
Took a pregnant pause and let out a cry,
Pointed at his head, said his pockets were full of bread.
He told the docs “Back off or your money market’s dead.”
Deep in his heart he knew he was wrong,
So he dropped the extra loot and  starts to run on.
Alarms sounded, he seemed astounded,
Before long the young man got surrounded.
He dropped the cash, so went the glory,
And this is the way I have end this story.
He tried to save the poor, maybe a madman’s dream;
Society killed the kid and I still hear him scream.
This ain’t funny so don’t ya dare laugh;
Just another case ’bout a different path
Where idealistic dreams eventually got dashed.

Good night.

I fell in love with Slick Rick’s Children’s Story when it first came out:

I was thinking about the current state of affairs and how the poor are typically left out of discussions about life, the universe, and everything, which resulted in this revision to the lyrics.

That’s right — another AR presentation …





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