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1992. January 14. HARLEM, New York. Rian.
"FUCK RAHEEM! He wanna keep bitchin' about dumb shit like the pussy he is. If I was y'all, I'd cut that nigga off!" Bishop yelled angrily as he played the King Kong video game on the TV.
' How I Could Just Kill A Man' played lowly fromSteel's boombox as it sat in his lap while he, Q, and I all sat on the sofa in the living room.
I rolled my eyes as my elbow rested on the sofa arm, keeping my head from flopping down. Bishop was on yet another rant but this time about his friend, Raheem, who supposedly dipped out on a robbery they were supposed to do.
All I wanted to do on the groggy Saturday morning was relax and watch reruns of Fresh Prince but instead I had to listen to my mental brother, Roland, talk shit about his best-friend to his other best-friends— who were always over.
It was annoying as hell but I got used to it.
"He's our friend, man. You saying this about him right now but we all gon' be back together in a few hours." Steel spoke. I looked at him as he talked, he was my favorite out of Roland's friends cause he was like the glue. Always speaking the real and always coming with a resolution.
It was factual though, the two of them always bounced back. . .Even if Bishop talked the craziest of crazy.
"The hell I am. Fuck that nigga, and fuck y'all if y'all wanna be down with him." Bishop turned around to look at them with a serious expression. "And I'm sick of you tryna be glue and put us together all the time too, fat boy. You blowing mines forreal." He pointed.
I shook my head, knowing he had serious issues. I couldn't understand how the fuck he had friends— the way he talked to them would've sent me over the edge. Shit, it already has.
But nobody took it there with Ro because he was legitimately diagnosed with a bunch of shit. Even I didn't. Now, I'd call out his bullshit and we'd argue a few times but normally I'd say something like: "Okay, Roland. .You got it." To leave it be.
In all honesty though, I couldn't front and say I've never feared for my life when arguing with Bishop. He never raised a hand to me a day in my life yet I could sense that if I ever furthered argued with him, he wouldn't hesitate to try it.
"Ro, it's ten in the morning and you're cursing like this? Can you relax?" I asked him with annoyance laced in my tone.
Bishop looked at me and cocked his head. "Why the fuck are you talking to me, Ri?" He blankly stared at me.
