Acute Ghettoitis Rants

Worm crowed. “There is nothing I would discuss with you!” “You can’t talk to me about anything regarding the game!” “Nothing!” “Me and you sign off on that!” Worm spoke with confidence, his voice rough like my grandmother pulling a coconut on a grater. What rubbed me the wrong way was how Worm somehow thought he held some semblance of power over my future and the success of my endeavors. He referred to me as if I had failed and will continue to fail because I somehow would not able to accomplish anything in his sight. For he, in his limited scope of understanding and reasoning had signed off on my life. That was how most druglords were, it’s very hard to convince a man who has money and has been seeing guns that he isn’t somehow empowered. That he isn’t lord of all lords. Worm was like most people who came into money, a person who defied the odds and created something out of nothing, those people thought themselves invincible. Worm believed in his world. He was confident in his craft because of how it had transformed his life. Everything else was peripheral or inconsequential? My methods were. It didn’t matter that I had a degree in chemistry, that I knew the formulaic to create better psycho-enhancements, Worm had given me one chance to prove myself and my product had failed to delivery. It made me wonder how many chances did someone give worm? I wonder how many chances did Worm get to make things right. No one gives you a chance these days, not even drug lords. Worm said. “People love me inno!” “I have people doing things for me!” “Gal and man!” “People do this for me not out of fear but out of respect!” Money did that to you, it made you feel like a deity, made you feel more powerful that the smartest person, as accomplished as the most decorated or illustrious. I wasn’t the most macho man. I was five six and overweight, on a good day I might be mistaken for a girl if you liked that body type. I didn’t care the respect burly and bulky men did, I was a nerd, trying a thing and these gangsta’s knew it. I bet you Worm got off on knowing I somehow fear him, that I lived him fear of his reprisal for the failed chemical venture. I should have waited my turn. I should have stuck to my plan and created my own meth formula and line. Worm was an ignoramus, who’s relevance laid in money and weapons. I was bigger than Worm. Worm probably knew that.