Shelton Family Saga

Chapter 3

Noochie 1959 - 1962

Noochie was a gifted kid. A lover of fine art. But, he was also white and rejected by his own race of people, which was due to his parent's roles as community activists. They frequently moved around the country rallying for equality, so Noochie usually found himself thrusts into large groups of random black people, which oftentimes landed him in a fight. Take the time in sixth grade when his family had just moved to Helmsville. Tall and lanky with deep set dark mysterious eyes and wavy black hair at five foot seven, he was the awkward new kid at the Booker T. Washington school and really stood out as such. A few of the fellas were knocking a tether ball around a rusty metal pole when Noochie jumped in the middle of their game. Schools had just started to integrate about four years earlier, and in 1959, there was Noochie standing on the playground right in the middle of everyone yelling, "Hit it again my negro bro, hit it again!" All the fellas wanted to kick his ass and fuck him up. Just who did he think he was, coming on their turf using slang phrases like that, my negro bro. Poor ignorant Noochie. He always did his best to get in where he fit in, but it usually cost him in a massive way, namely an ass whooping. This time he was spared, cause it's the day he met Hoochie, who had stopped it. Hoochie had spoken up to say, "Eh brotha, what your name is?"

"Nicholas, but all my boys call me Noochie," he lied, but little did Hoochie know that Noochie didn't have any friends.

"Eh, that's cool man. Say, I like yo style. You kind of fresh. Tell you what young blood, I'm gonna call you Noochie too, cause me and you is friends now, m'kay," Hoochie said.

Noochie's face lit up with excitement as well as relief. It was music to his ears to know after years of living an altruistic lifestyle, he finally had his first real friend. He didn't know anything at all about Hoochie, but he also didn't care. The only thing that mattered to Noochie was he finally fit in somewhere, and had someone his own age he could be cool with. They bumped their fists together followed by slapping their palms against each others and ended with a snap of their fingers. Ever since that moment, Noochie stuck close to his new friend Hoochie with nobody daring to mess with him. It wasn't until three years later in 1962 when they were both fifteen and hanging out with a group of fellas in the section one day.....WHAM! Out of nowhere, Noochie got knocked to the ground. He was straight up blind sided. It happened so fast, the blow knocked the wind out of him forcing him to the ground and leaving him a bit disoriented. Even without being able to clearly focus, he could hear a plethora of loud voices. Actually, it was yelling he heard. And, oh the pain. There were lots of it in his ribs, because he was being kicked in his side repetitively; but, before he could cry out in agony, the kicking had stopped. Noochie was laid out on the ground, looking upward to the sky and everything in his line of sight was a blur; yet, he still tried to focus his eyes. It didn't matter that he couldn't make out the blurry images bobbing and weaving above him, because he could hear the punches being thrown and the voice that accompanied them. Wop. Wop. Wop. "Git yo ugly ass outta here." He easily recognized that as Hoochie's voice, and slowly, things started to come into focus again. He was able to see Hoochie grab some young buck around his chest from behind, and within a matter of seconds, the dude had blood running down the front of his neck. The young fella was inhaling and making noises like a suckling pig gasping for its breath during slaughter. Things were getting hazy for Noochie, and he started to blackout; but, he could still make out the conversation going on above him. He heard Hoochie pop off with, "This for whoever sent ya, Now git the fuck outta here!"

That damn Hoochie was a real wig splitter. It was always bad news if anyone pissed him off, cause he was sure to act on his emotions first and only think about it afterwards, if ever. Followed by Hoochie's voice was an adrenaline filled different voice, "Hoochie, you fucked up. That's Big Star's errand boy. You fucked up Hoochie!" Hoochie's reply was in a calm and hushed tone, "I ain't did shit. I don't know that jive turkey. Who saw me do anything?" None of the fellas said anything.
Then with his eyes wide open again, Noochie saw Hoochie extending his hand down to help him off the ground. In a groggy fashion, Noochie rose to his feet, "Hey man, I saw all that blood coming down that fools neck, but I didn't see you do nothing to him. Explain that to me brother".

"It's real simple my brotha. The hand is quicker than the eye, ya dig?" Noochie stared blankly, so Hoochie queried again, "YA DIG?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Noochie shot back.

"Don't ever forget that brotha and you'll be a'ight in life," Hoochie told him.

It was at this point Noochie and Hoochie were about to embark on a friendship that would last well into their golden years, although no one was suspecting of it at the time.