Ain't My Fault-(C) 2004 Dope Dialogue excerpt

Ain’t my Fault

Whiteboyz listening to my slang wanna hang like bats, and now dirty ass rats got got….when shit got hot

Naw it ain’t my fault dey addicted to salt and drinking Malt liquor

            ”Why did you wait till all this time to come back? And weren’t something’s better off unsaid?” The father asked his estranged son. As he walked back into his life, he stepped through his father's business doors, not wanting any confrontation. He had on the same shoes he had worn when he left over ten years ago. But the soles weren’t worn down. No he took the time to replace the shoes and take care of them. He had on a suit and tie as well.

            They walked inside his father’s office.  He paid no mind to the business papers, shelves of books and file cabinets, but rather he scrutinized the pictures of himself as a child before the incident had happened…

            The man, for the years had gone by so quickly, was worried, “Maybe I just should have said something different?”

            He turned away from the pictures of himself and looked his old man in the eye and smirked. Never had he dared to look at him that relaxed before. Perhaps the roles were reversed now as the boy looked down on his father.

            “It is like you said…some things are left better unsaid.” Then he casually turned around and walked out the door leaving the old man puzzled. Still puzzled after all this time even when he knows his boy probably is never coming back. It was all just a sad day dream. A tear dropped on to the picture, the last picture of his son being normal.

           

As a child he stayed in his room; when his parents told him to do something he didn’t like, he’d put those infamous rap tapes in his stereo and follow right along, “Plain to see ya’ can’t change me cuzz Imma be a Nigga’ for life!” –ref-efil4zaggin NWA

From mother goose rhymes to Dope-

“What in the hell is wrong with you?  Son you used to be such a loving boy!”

The straw finally broke the camels back, so to speak and a beet-red-faced-veins-exposed-in-his-forehead father had come home from a meeting a high school principal. His boy had been caught smoking a Marlboro cigarette in the boys room. “Smoking it like it was a marijuana” and “where do you think he learns this behavior?” The principal and console of a few community leaders who loved to be members of the P.T.A. solely for the purpose of getting good gossip.

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