66f6ee0987d55c2c59c13c347cfdbf04Lil Ricky, as a poor young boy, growing up in the tight-canned ‘Englewood’ neighborhood set the stage for sport integration, drugs, hacking, and more. Poverty strips humanity from victims as the quest for more resources takes hold.  You’re aware your friends’ make silent noises in your absence.  Nonetheless, you act as if nothing connects with your ears, ‘sure they’re not laughing at me.’

Lil Ricky lived in a two flat in the Chicago’ Englewood community, 514 West Tremont.  In the early 70’s, at that time, Lil Ricky saw two parents in nearly every home or apartment.  More interesting, you respected adults, there were men in homes, married and unmarried at times.  Thus, we’ll stop throwing rock when one walked by. “Hey, Mr. Jones.,”  Ain’t you that Williams’ boy, yes sir, that’s me.  What’s your dam name boy, Ricky, lil Ricky sir…Well little Dickie, Ricky sir, whatever.  Stay your little Black behind off my garage.  And if I catch you in my backyard I’ll rip your ass up right there.  Now come take your behind to the store for me…ok Mr. Jones.  What store?  Brooks or Skeets…just get hog head cheese and bring my change.  Can I get something, No…bring back my change boy.  Yes sir.

Later in the Dodge

What the hell lil Ricky? Did you hear?  No what’s up?  Shelly pregnant.  WHAT!!! You’reslide_368066_4213848_free lying, she lives on my block…dude you lying?  No I’m not, she’s pregnant…dude that’s wild.  Her father’s going to be pissed…I’ve never seen anything like this.  She’s still in high school…her life over man…I’m telling you, really.  Yea, though, She is fine and got a big ass…who you think did it…don’t know.  It’s not like she runs around, this is not real Ricky…unheard…seriously the community was silent.  I had a crush on Shelly but not after that diagnosis…her mother has to be mad as hell.  What’s going on with the garage party? The new family, ‘Phillips’ throwing one this Friday…they brother name ‘Wee’ kicking it off.  You going…lil Ricky…yea I guess.

What’s wrong?  The only thing we do is grind our dicks on our zippers.  That shits hurt…some of them need to wear a skirt.  The Phillips family’ cool but one brother man he is no joke, I stay away from him.  Dude he’s mad all the time…all the time.  Son of a bitch looked at the mail box and the motherfucker box fell over.  Never smiling…creepy dude, keep your eyes open.  Are you going to the party Nate?  Yea, I might, I might be doing something, yea peeping in people’s windows.  I don’t do that!   Not what I heard, in fact, they say you camp out on the back porch.  Damn dude, really, come on man…not cool.  But what have you seen come on man tell us…or we’re going to rat your ass out.  Tell us what you seen……What naked?  How big were they? Seriously like monster tidies…dude really damn. Did she see you?  Dude I live on the second floor, I better not catch your ass trying that shit on my lil sister.  Hey, you want to dance?  Yea, cool, the new people must not have parents, they throw garage parties a lot.

Dude, peanut, you killing the robot, it looks real…get it zut.  Hot as hell in this garage, let me check outside for a moment..   You see Big Red?  Dude they say he doing a drug Richard Pryor doing…which one? Cocaine.  Cocaine!  Dude that’s expensive can’t no one pay for that…someone’s lying to you.  Seriously, why don’t you smoke weed lil Ricky, because I’m an athlete, I get high off sports and life.  What an idiot?  You know what Reed, you’re a creep and you can’t get a girlfriend, why not?  Because you’re a creep…that’s why you have no girlfriends…women don’t like creeps.  So, take your creepy ass onto the 400 block and chase a dog.  Bastard.  You not going to hit me…hit me, hit me, my father and brother going to whoop your ass…creep.

Lil Ricky, be quiet…dude be Quiet.  What’s up listen…what..

BOXES!             BOXES!                    BOXES!

gtra-1118-boxcar-single-door-rail-car-golden-triangle-railroad-class-3-mississippi-gtra-golden-triangle-railway-ms_-freight-train-railcarLil Ricky and crew running dastardly for free merchandise at the end of the 500 block. Unhitch It, Unhitch It, Unhitch It…Berry….dude get up there, yank that motherfucker harder…Yank…loss of air pressure sounds the alarm….BOXES!!! BOXES!!! BOXES!!!  We got boxes, McDonald fries…hell yea, McDonald’s fries…hell yea.  Dude that ‘Berry Yates’ cat pretty good…I know that motherfucker running like someone was chasing him.  Yea he lives in the roll houses, big-ass family.  They must have different fathers, one of them light-skinned, brown skin…you know how that work.  Lil Ricky, what you think about their other sister…what’s her name again…Sim.  Her name Sim, yea, I give her 50 feet, she’s tough…her brothers cool, I guess.  I know Berry ran after that boxcar like Walter Payton.  I’m like dam….ROOTS’ Kunta Kente running.  Get back here Toby, Black motherfucker you.  Dude they whoop the skin off Kunta ass…yea that was wild.  I wish we had a color TV…you mean you wish you had a daddy.  I got a father he just works a lot…yea at the county jail sleeping.

And look at your shoes, they just sent a distress signal out. Black bastard, yea look at that big gap, where’s your tooth?  In your momma’ bra…you cross-eyed jack ass, your momma so Black motherfucker fried two eggs on her face…that’s not funny it was when I added cheese on her face….lil Ricky your gap scares little kids…why don’t you visit the dentist, oh you did, he ran away.  Hmm funny creep…you know when you don’t get free lunch, you can’t use food stamps.  We don’t get food stamps, we not on welfare.  You lying motherfucker, your shit is raggedy and if you’re not on welfare…your clothes are.  Black ass—talking about kissing Sheedy.  Sheedy said you didn’t know where things were…and you shot your load when she closed the door.  Sex dummy…you don’t use tools to unsnap a bra…sex bastard…yea what about your sister.  Don’t get your ass whooped…say another word, motherfucker if you breathe before I leave, I’m going to dog walk your ass around that car.  Pussy-ass fuck…Damn Lil Ricky, why you go off on him like that…fuck it just let it go….

Robert ‘Amp’ Williams