It's been like 28 weeks later (Nah! I'm joking. Actually it's been almost 2 weeks), since the last time I see my nigga. The last time I saw him, as you may recall, was after I did all V for Vendetta kind of riot at Soul Kitchen, you feel me? Singin' 'bout my generation, Pete Townsend! After he kicked Jack Sweeney's punk ass through Mortal Kombat and been piss off at me and Amanda (Tyler the Creator style), he was never seen again. Two long weeks have passed, and nobody saw or heard of him. He just disappears from our lives, like the Flash during the Crisis on Infinite Earths. Everybody's started to worry him about him, asking where the fuck is he or when was the last time somebody saw him. I mean everybody, like literally. Ms. Murrieta, Mr. Wednesday, Mr. Pan, Amanda, and the Poison Ivys, me, and even Jack Sweeney, who was literally beaten up by Joseph, and forgives him because of his dissappearance. Everybody is worried as fuck. Meanwhile, at the heart of Harlem, Joseph, and his parents isolated themselves from the outside world, being locked up inside the department, just like George Orwell's "1984" (Watch out for Big Brother). Joseph was at his room, taking a nap, trying to build an imaginary "wall" on its mind, just like the rockstar Pink, to self-isolate from everyone. In his own dreams, the boogie wit da hoodie was there, collecting his dreams, and once again, tormenting him to death. Then, he started to get episodes, about demonic possession, and the Honduran genocide. He feels sad, scared, and rage. Rage! I feel rage! Shut the fuck up, Lil Uzi Vert! (Don't take it personally. It's just a book).
