Gorilla Black

Chapter 1 It was a red-hot summer day. Hazy and humid. The air was so mufucking tight, I damn near couldn't breathe. It was the summer of 1980 and I had just moved to Fairfield Court Projects after my moms had gotten us evicted from our apartment in Matthew Heights. I was sitting on the front porch, reading Negro by Langston Hughes, when I spotted a bow-legged girl standing across the street, sucking on her thumb. She was wearing a red plastic jacket and red ballerina shoes. Her hair was rolled up in a halter top and her skinny legs were shiny, as if she had a whole bottle of petroleum jelly on them or something. My little brother Keon, who was eight years old at the time, yelled out, "Who dat girl with the greasy legs and hot plastic on?" Man, I laughed so hard, I almost peed on myself. The girl caught us laughing at her and from the distance I caught her rolling her eyes. I yelled out to her, "Yo, shorty girl, you better be careful, they might just pop out your head!" She threw us an evil stare, and then dropped her stinky thumb from her mouth. "Yo, you ape looking fool; I know you ain't laughing at me with your big, black, ugly self! And my name is Starr, for your information," she shot back at me. Starr stood there rolling her neck around, with both hands placed on her imagination. "And if I am, what you gone do about it?" I asked. She sucked her teeth. "Call the zoo and tell him Godzilla escaped!" "You better go take off that hot plastic jacket before you die from heat exhaustion. And if that's your imagination, you sure as heck ain't got much of one," I spat. The next thing I know, Starr spun around like she was about to bust a Michael Jackson dance move. Instead, she bent all the way over until her fingers were touching her toes, then she came up swiftly with her right hand and smacked her butt, pow. "Kiss my ass, you big black gorilla!" she screamed at me. I couldn't believe my ears; the chick had the audacity to call me a big black gorilla. I had never been called out of my name by anyone other than my moms. "Look here, shorty girl. For real, I wasn't even laughing at you, so you need to just chill out!" Starr wasn't one to back down easily, she kept the insults flowing. "Oh, don't get scared now, with your ugly self!" she carried on, her neck spinning around like the little white chick in The Exorcist. I let out a huge sigh, then bit my bottom lip. "Shorty, I ain't scared of you. I just don't won't any trouble. So, don't start none, won't be none!" I warned her. Next thing I know, Starr jumped down from her porch, picked up something from the ground, and made a tight fist. I stood with my arms folded across my chest. For a minute, neither of us said a word, we just locked eyes. Okay, I'll admit it. From where I was sitting, she was kind of cute. Truth be told, if ever there had been a beauty contest, Starr would have been named Beauty and I, the Beast. Nevertheless, I wasn't about to let that skinny, high yellow, want-to-be pageant chick from across the street know that she was indeed the shit! Suddenly, Starr wound up her right arm as if she was about to throw a pitch in the World Series. She let go off a huge rock, almost smacking me in the head. I ducked and the rock slammed against our screen door. That did it! Enough was enough! I figured I had to say or do something to defend myself because all the little heathens on my new block were outside, and they were all pointing at me and chanting, "Gorilla-Gorilla, Gorilla-Gorilla!" They paraded back and forth. [read more]