The Plaza Park Boys vs. the Project Boys

Something seemed wrong. Every day the Plaza Park Boys hung at the playground entrance. But as I drove by, the place was strangely empty. I continued to the bottom of the street. There they were, standing at the corner, crowded together, talking. I beeped the horn, rolled down the window, and yelled, "What's up?" Nothing. I drove three blocks away and parked by the housing development. As I got out the car I saw the Plaza Park Boys leave the street corner and walk toward the projects. Quickly, I ran into the projects to see what was going on. Blink, one of the Plaza Park Boys, had wrecked his car near the housing projects. When he walked away from his wrecked car, the Project Boys had run across the street and robbed him of his cell phone, a hooded sweater, and a pack of cigarettes. As I talked with one of Project Boys, the Plaza Park Boys came around the corner, screaming. Blink yelled, "Where the fuck is my shit?!" They surrounded the Project Boy I was talking to. I stood, frightened, between the two gangs. "Chill," I said. "Blink," I said. "This isn't worth it." I stroked Blink's ego, "They can't handle a gang war with you." Another Plaza Park boy reached for his waist. "Chill!" I yelled again, "Let me take care of this." A quiet pause. Then Blink yelled, "Chill out ya'll. Let's bounce." They walked back to the park. I asked one of the Project Boys, "Where's his stuff?" "I don't have it." "Who has it?" "E-Man does." I turned to E-Man. "E-Man, where's Blink's cell phone". "I don't know," he said stubbornly. I explained to him that he didn't want to go to war with Plaza Park. I asked again, "Where's the cell phone?" He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to me. "Where's the hoody?" "In the dumpster." I drove back to the park. Blink stood in the middle of the street. I got out the car and gave Blink his cell phone. "I don't know where your sweater is." "Thanks T." "Is this dead?" I asked. "Yeah, it's dead." I got back in the car and drove away.