This was a solid gold bomb. I knew something real shitty was about to go down as soon as that Draco got handed off. This went from one thing to something else much more meaningful and interesting very, very quickly. And that’s that shit I like. We have drugs, killin’, humanity, madness, suicide by cop (spoon down the pants was definitely not a gun.) This is like Joyce mixed with Narcos mixed with a Chemical Brother’s video or something and I dig it a LOT.
And yeah, 75 rounds in the billet, Dracos are… I can find you five 7.62 pistols and 5,000 short barrel AK variants that are better than those things because if you [I’m not telling you how to do that on the internet anyone reading, Jesus] and start the drumline that bitch is turning into an anti-aircraft weapon real fuckin’ quick (Because Dracos are almost always actually Micro Dracos these days, Draco just a short barrel AK (12.5 inches), micro Draco is a legitimate AK pistol with a pistol length barrel (6.5 inches) and nobody in the hood doing meth is going to put a folding stock (easy to mount) and an optic on it (nearly fucking impossible on those goddamn things.)
This turned out much more poigniant and humane than I ever expected. And that’s hard to do with stories that start with characters pissing and talking about meth, handing off Dracos. Also, phenomenal energy in the piece, and amazing imagery.
No idea where this fiction would happen, but it reminded me of when SAC was wildin’ out and nobody gave a fuck.
Chose the Draco specifically cos around the time I left the island it was one of the most popular tools out in the street, replacing Glocks .40 which have been for some reason the most popular up until the op Draco came about.
Assault rifles a la COD are still the go-to, specially with today’s youth(they seem to have a knack for overkills. I mean, the whole philosophy of emptying a clip and then some has been around since the mid 2000s. Before that there was a code, one you’ll probably be more familiar with cos it’s how shit used to run. Although tbh, that ‘code’ struck fear in me as a child.
I remember being 5 in the projects and seeing Angelito(friend) shoot down Ashi with a homemade pistol in the stomach cos we were playing tag and he was up in the Falmboyán and Angelito was afraid of heights.
I’ve never understood the logic of emptying a billet into someone aside from making a statement and a mess. And even then, 7.62 ain’t cheap. Glock 40s I think had to be a cultural thing, 40 cal was new and it caught in rap, the G27 subcompact is so small I can palm the motherfucker (but then they go and put monkey nuts on it?) because 40 cal is a trash round. I don’t care if it’s a G22 or a G27, forty cal is garbage. (I’m not even mentioning the full size pistol because nobody carries a full size in the hood unless they rollin’ deep.)
ARs and AR variants are probably so prevalent today because they give them out like fuckin’ candy. And they make so many AR pistols too. Dump a mag and forget it. Easy to dispose of if you know what you’re doing. Modular. Smelt the receiver and there’s no murder weapon (not that I even know if they did that shit where you came from.)
In STL we still got a lot of them old heads bringin’ youngsters up and the swine is a literal gang. They don’t give a fuck unless you clip someone who’s white, or it’s officer involved. Right before I moved someone emptied a Draco down in the state streets (because of course it would be that relevant) on a drive by. (Tennessee street, ironically I know that spot by rep) these fools don’t bolt down the cuts, they come straight up to this massive intersection six blocks south of my house, Grand and Gravois, and the cherries and berries hit and they get boxed somehow. Street says one of the people in the shooter car was clipped, someone gets out and sprays a half mag of 7.62 into a Cop SUV (STL replaced their entire fleet with fuck off big Suburbans or whatever a while ago.) 40 units later this Mexican standoff somehow ends up burned out headed North on Grand, I counted 40 units behind on their asses. That’s nearly every duty cop in three districts on shift, no lie. Last I hear two passengers were slumped and they were headed north on Grand with a parade following them, shit barely hit the news.
Meanwhile I could drive six blocks east of here and pop everyone serving the corner in this same spot out a shrinkwrapped ass blacked out charger and the cops wouldn’t even bother to try and look for my ass. (Criminal on criminal crime is just doing their jobs for them in this town is how they look at it.)
I never worry when I hear gunfire and then a return around here, that’s just tickling each other’s nuts in STL. I hear one or two shots then dead ass silence, someone just got dropped. Me and Sarah lived close enough to each other that before she died we would hear the same gunfire, and whenever we’d hear just two shots, popop, one of us would inevitably type out, “pour one out for another soldier.”
Where I come from they still work on omerta rules, so no talking, and I wasn’t there, but no unneccessary harm. It’s also a totally different kind of crime and criminal culture, travelers and ghosts. Buying up six Makarovs for 300 dollars outside the gun show because it’s the Midwest and nobody ain’t crooked. Can’t do that anymore.
Double tap and a head shot, ghost and wash the weapon, then drop it or burn it, shit don’t matter, just don’t keep holding the motherfucker.
Now once I got to the feds and made some friends, you hear stories. Black SUV and some tac force gear, three man team, redneck mafia, raid the rural holdover stash houses, the one in the little ass town where the Cartel knows they can hide. But that puts a lotta bodies on the ground because they use associated families that’s human trafficked as camouflage and you can’t leave anything breathing. If there’s a goldfish you flush that motherfucker down the toilet. Just like anywhere else in the world, take one or the other, the cash or the work. Leave tribute to the dead, and a present for the cops. Better to leave the work because cash washes but work gotta get sold. That’s doing the job twice.
Here in STL last five years we’ve had this problem with petty corner boys killing chicken heads kids over drug debts. It hits the news as children caught in the crossfire but that shit is 100% because mom or dad didn’t pay their front, and I mean, even on a ten rock, one bean, or a half gram of ice. Cold motherfuckers. The hot shit round here is Fenny and Meth, and they never fuckin’ die, they just start getting skin lesions from the xylazine.
I remember seeing him fall down like a sack of tatos face down as the rest of the group scattered. The gun was from Angelito’s dad who had just got out of prison. Months later his dad would break in my dad’s car, months after I myself got shot at on Three King Day, around 7am when my dad told me to go and look something in the car while he setup my SNES to play Super Metroid.
Later YEARS later I’d get that that was meant for my dad and not me(obviously I was a fucking child).
Anyways back then what I was afraid was getting “las patas quemás”. That was the thing in the 90s. They wouldn’t kill you, they’d make sure you were left in a wheelchair.
Saw MANY like that. Friends, friends of friends. Shit, I could keep going. Anyways, thanks for the comment, man. I really appreciate your input. 👊🏽
"Anyways back then what I was afraid was getting “las patas quemás”. That was the thing in the 90s. They wouldn’t kill you, they’d make sure you were left in a wheelchair." See, I'm glad I was never a banger, only ever a KA, because the first friend of mine woulda ended up in a wheelchair over some dumb shit, even if it was their fault, that age, young buck, whoever took the shot; move cities and pray.
Here in STL like I said, that bullet would have been dead assed for you if they were gunning for dad and couldn't get to him.
All my friends from back then exist in three distinct categories, dead, in prison, or retired.
Can always tell when someone has seen violence up close by how they describe someone falling when they take a round. Unless it's coming from an autocannon on an A10 or .50 cal rifle ammunition or something, people been trained by the movies to think it's cinematic. And if the scene calls for it I'll write everything BUT that cinematically, but you get hit bad, you just fall like a sack of potatoes. That's exactly it. No drama, no nothin', just a ragdoll with no lights on.
I sat down at the computer to relax and drink my smoothie. I picked this to read and now I need some xanax. This piece moves so fast and smooth and without breathing. It did jangle all my nerves and I really liked it. Great violence in action and many things to ponder.
TBH it reminded me of some of Emil's writing. I read the thread of you and Emil discussing things and I see where you come from with this kind of urgent violence. I'm glad you are here to write for the audience.
Yeah this is that SHIT. One of your best I think I’ve read so far. Still need to get to your longer piece 😅 but man was this a DOPE ride. Literally and metaphorically. The Mickey Draco was such a diabolically good line I wish I had thought of it first damnit! This writing is to die for man and it feels like a trip in itself. Input with that bit at the end that feels like a small loop around to the beginning and a one word finish — like shit it’s bursting out at the reader.
As others have said, this piece feels like the quintessential form of your writing style in the best way possible. I've always thought your writing danced this beautiful line between prose and poetry, but here you've added this element of rhythm that makes the whole piece flow like song lyrics.
Add in the absolutely stunning word choice throughout, and you have a piece of writing that's as much a work of art as it is a gut-wrenching story. I'll be talking about this one on today's podcast episode I'm recording!
Jesus.
Thanks for giving it a look, I know you’re busy af. I appreciate it!
This was a solid gold bomb. I knew something real shitty was about to go down as soon as that Draco got handed off. This went from one thing to something else much more meaningful and interesting very, very quickly. And that’s that shit I like. We have drugs, killin’, humanity, madness, suicide by cop (spoon down the pants was definitely not a gun.) This is like Joyce mixed with Narcos mixed with a Chemical Brother’s video or something and I dig it a LOT.
And yeah, 75 rounds in the billet, Dracos are… I can find you five 7.62 pistols and 5,000 short barrel AK variants that are better than those things because if you [I’m not telling you how to do that on the internet anyone reading, Jesus] and start the drumline that bitch is turning into an anti-aircraft weapon real fuckin’ quick (Because Dracos are almost always actually Micro Dracos these days, Draco just a short barrel AK (12.5 inches), micro Draco is a legitimate AK pistol with a pistol length barrel (6.5 inches) and nobody in the hood doing meth is going to put a folding stock (easy to mount) and an optic on it (nearly fucking impossible on those goddamn things.)
This turned out much more poigniant and humane than I ever expected. And that’s hard to do with stories that start with characters pissing and talking about meth, handing off Dracos. Also, phenomenal energy in the piece, and amazing imagery.
No idea where this fiction would happen, but it reminded me of when SAC was wildin’ out and nobody gave a fuck.
Chose the Draco specifically cos around the time I left the island it was one of the most popular tools out in the street, replacing Glocks .40 which have been for some reason the most popular up until the op Draco came about.
Assault rifles a la COD are still the go-to, specially with today’s youth(they seem to have a knack for overkills. I mean, the whole philosophy of emptying a clip and then some has been around since the mid 2000s. Before that there was a code, one you’ll probably be more familiar with cos it’s how shit used to run. Although tbh, that ‘code’ struck fear in me as a child.
I remember being 5 in the projects and seeing Angelito(friend) shoot down Ashi with a homemade pistol in the stomach cos we were playing tag and he was up in the Falmboyán and Angelito was afraid of heights.
I’ve never understood the logic of emptying a billet into someone aside from making a statement and a mess. And even then, 7.62 ain’t cheap. Glock 40s I think had to be a cultural thing, 40 cal was new and it caught in rap, the G27 subcompact is so small I can palm the motherfucker (but then they go and put monkey nuts on it?) because 40 cal is a trash round. I don’t care if it’s a G22 or a G27, forty cal is garbage. (I’m not even mentioning the full size pistol because nobody carries a full size in the hood unless they rollin’ deep.)
ARs and AR variants are probably so prevalent today because they give them out like fuckin’ candy. And they make so many AR pistols too. Dump a mag and forget it. Easy to dispose of if you know what you’re doing. Modular. Smelt the receiver and there’s no murder weapon (not that I even know if they did that shit where you came from.)
In STL we still got a lot of them old heads bringin’ youngsters up and the swine is a literal gang. They don’t give a fuck unless you clip someone who’s white, or it’s officer involved. Right before I moved someone emptied a Draco down in the state streets (because of course it would be that relevant) on a drive by. (Tennessee street, ironically I know that spot by rep) these fools don’t bolt down the cuts, they come straight up to this massive intersection six blocks south of my house, Grand and Gravois, and the cherries and berries hit and they get boxed somehow. Street says one of the people in the shooter car was clipped, someone gets out and sprays a half mag of 7.62 into a Cop SUV (STL replaced their entire fleet with fuck off big Suburbans or whatever a while ago.) 40 units later this Mexican standoff somehow ends up burned out headed North on Grand, I counted 40 units behind on their asses. That’s nearly every duty cop in three districts on shift, no lie. Last I hear two passengers were slumped and they were headed north on Grand with a parade following them, shit barely hit the news.
Meanwhile I could drive six blocks east of here and pop everyone serving the corner in this same spot out a shrinkwrapped ass blacked out charger and the cops wouldn’t even bother to try and look for my ass. (Criminal on criminal crime is just doing their jobs for them in this town is how they look at it.)
I never worry when I hear gunfire and then a return around here, that’s just tickling each other’s nuts in STL. I hear one or two shots then dead ass silence, someone just got dropped. Me and Sarah lived close enough to each other that before she died we would hear the same gunfire, and whenever we’d hear just two shots, popop, one of us would inevitably type out, “pour one out for another soldier.”
Where I come from they still work on omerta rules, so no talking, and I wasn’t there, but no unneccessary harm. It’s also a totally different kind of crime and criminal culture, travelers and ghosts. Buying up six Makarovs for 300 dollars outside the gun show because it’s the Midwest and nobody ain’t crooked. Can’t do that anymore.
Double tap and a head shot, ghost and wash the weapon, then drop it or burn it, shit don’t matter, just don’t keep holding the motherfucker.
Now once I got to the feds and made some friends, you hear stories. Black SUV and some tac force gear, three man team, redneck mafia, raid the rural holdover stash houses, the one in the little ass town where the Cartel knows they can hide. But that puts a lotta bodies on the ground because they use associated families that’s human trafficked as camouflage and you can’t leave anything breathing. If there’s a goldfish you flush that motherfucker down the toilet. Just like anywhere else in the world, take one or the other, the cash or the work. Leave tribute to the dead, and a present for the cops. Better to leave the work because cash washes but work gotta get sold. That’s doing the job twice.
Here in STL last five years we’ve had this problem with petty corner boys killing chicken heads kids over drug debts. It hits the news as children caught in the crossfire but that shit is 100% because mom or dad didn’t pay their front, and I mean, even on a ten rock, one bean, or a half gram of ice. Cold motherfuckers. The hot shit round here is Fenny and Meth, and they never fuckin’ die, they just start getting skin lesions from the xylazine.
Totally get the petty shit. A buddy of mine got five in the face and they burned him on the edge of the river… he was 18, tho
Ugh. Well, that's one way to do it.
I remember seeing him fall down like a sack of tatos face down as the rest of the group scattered. The gun was from Angelito’s dad who had just got out of prison. Months later his dad would break in my dad’s car, months after I myself got shot at on Three King Day, around 7am when my dad told me to go and look something in the car while he setup my SNES to play Super Metroid.
Later YEARS later I’d get that that was meant for my dad and not me(obviously I was a fucking child).
Anyways back then what I was afraid was getting “las patas quemás”. That was the thing in the 90s. They wouldn’t kill you, they’d make sure you were left in a wheelchair.
Saw MANY like that. Friends, friends of friends. Shit, I could keep going. Anyways, thanks for the comment, man. I really appreciate your input. 👊🏽
"Anyways back then what I was afraid was getting “las patas quemás”. That was the thing in the 90s. They wouldn’t kill you, they’d make sure you were left in a wheelchair." See, I'm glad I was never a banger, only ever a KA, because the first friend of mine woulda ended up in a wheelchair over some dumb shit, even if it was their fault, that age, young buck, whoever took the shot; move cities and pray.
Here in STL like I said, that bullet would have been dead assed for you if they were gunning for dad and couldn't get to him.
All my friends from back then exist in three distinct categories, dead, in prison, or retired.
Can always tell when someone has seen violence up close by how they describe someone falling when they take a round. Unless it's coming from an autocannon on an A10 or .50 cal rifle ammunition or something, people been trained by the movies to think it's cinematic. And if the scene calls for it I'll write everything BUT that cinematically, but you get hit bad, you just fall like a sack of potatoes. That's exactly it. No drama, no nothin', just a ragdoll with no lights on.
This reads like you’ve put drama on benzos and let it breathe into the cold air above a coffin. Out-fucking-standing.
Ugh this is dope Pablo!🔥🔥
Thanks!
I had a LOT of fun writing from that perspective.
I sat down at the computer to relax and drink my smoothie. I picked this to read and now I need some xanax. This piece moves so fast and smooth and without breathing. It did jangle all my nerves and I really liked it. Great violence in action and many things to ponder.
I’m sorry for the disturbing aspect of it but I’m glad you liked it and that it left something for you take away and ponder with!
I appreciate you taking your time for giving me a read and commenting. I have mad respect and admiration for your son. This means a lot.
Thank you!
TBH it reminded me of some of Emil's writing. I read the thread of you and Emil discussing things and I see where you come from with this kind of urgent violence. I'm glad you are here to write for the audience.
Yeah this is that SHIT. One of your best I think I’ve read so far. Still need to get to your longer piece 😅 but man was this a DOPE ride. Literally and metaphorically. The Mickey Draco was such a diabolically good line I wish I had thought of it first damnit! This writing is to die for man and it feels like a trip in itself. Input with that bit at the end that feels like a small loop around to the beginning and a one word finish — like shit it’s bursting out at the reader.
Thank you, bro!
The Mickey comes with the culture lol
Wow, this was a goddamn existential rollercoaster.
As others have said, this piece feels like the quintessential form of your writing style in the best way possible. I've always thought your writing danced this beautiful line between prose and poetry, but here you've added this element of rhythm that makes the whole piece flow like song lyrics.
Add in the absolutely stunning word choice throughout, and you have a piece of writing that's as much a work of art as it is a gut-wrenching story. I'll be talking about this one on today's podcast episode I'm recording!
Thanks for commenting, man.
I appreciate you taking the time to read, comment and even go as far as to share this along your awesome commentary.
Truly grateful.
🙏🏽😮💨 deep and profound. And dope style.
I cannot say anything legible about this. It's a smack to the face. I am neither Maso. Not sado. I did feel being in a war zone is being. Has to be.
Regards.
gSr
This one’s a bit rough.
I can understand what you mean, as long as it stirred something in you, I can say I did a good job.
To live is to be at war.
I appreciate you reading and leaving your thoughts!
Thanks!
You can say that you did a good job 👍
Thank you Pablo for understanding what I cannot speak.
Regards.
gSr