Mr. Perfect Ch. 12
I would lay in bed for hours at night talking to God. Asking why it was so hard for me to
just do the right thing. I wanted a normal life and a future that didn’t include prison. I
knew right from wrong, but I was so deep in the streets that I couldn’t see a way out.
Everyone I knew was either selling dope or smoking dope. My world was revolving
around crack. And I had began to accept the life I was living as normal. But deep inside I
knew that it was far from normal. The only examples I had to go by was the white
families I seen on television. Oh yeah, and the Cosby Show. I told myself that by the time
I turned 25, I would be saved, married, and own my own business. I told myself that I
would be done with the streets and that all of my children would be from the same
woman. I wanted to have my piece of the , so called, American Pie. I told God that I
would be his servant and all I wanted was a perfect life. A life that was filled with love,
happiness, success, and family. Those were the 4 things that I had never seen growing up.
This was often the conversation between God and I. I needed a change. I wanted a
change. I just didn’t have the guidance that it took to make the step in that direction.
Being told that everyone who looked like me and came from where I came from would be
dead or in prison by the age of 25 didn’t help at all. Growing up without a father or a
father figure in my life was not a new story at all. I was lost, and the only one I could turn
to was God. I asked God what I needed to do and my answer came while I was in prison.
My mother let Claw come and live with us when I was 14. He slept on the couch and
helped my mother with bills. He was a few years younger than my mother and spent time
with me showing me what his version of being a man was. He took me fishing and let me
drive his car even before I had a license. We hung out and drunk beer and talked about
Chicago all the time because that’s where he was from. He had a job but I guess he wasn’t stable enough to live on his own. Claw had friend named John that was a baller.
John had a nice truck all decked out with rims and music. John and Claw worked
together at a factory and they made pretty good money. Eventually Claw explained to me
that John sold coke. He was major, but low key at the same time. Claw was getting
fronted a few ounces of coke from John and one day he slipped and showed me where he
kept it at. He was trying to impress me by showing me what he had, but that was not very
smart on his part. My mother was still struggling trying to take care of me and my 2 little
brothers. I remember nights my aunt had to bring us bread and lunch meat from Crystal
River late at night because we were hungry. The refrigerator was empty with the
acceptation of a bottle of ketchup and the bag of cocaine that was hidden under one of the
pull out drawers in the bottom. One morning before school I took a spoon and scooped up
a pile of the coke then replaced it with baking soda. I sold it to some of the white boys at
school that wanted to get high. All my homeboys were bringing fake coke and fake weed
selling it to them, but I had the real deal. It didn’t take long for word to spread and I
business started booming until Claw made a sale to one of his customers and they brought
it back telling him it was straight baking soda. He was furious and he knew I was the
only one who knew it was there. It wasn’t really much he could do to me so he just
packed his things and moved out. I bought me a scale from the Arab store and went home
to weigh how much cocaine I had took from him over the3 past few months. It was 16
grams. That was a little over a half of an ounce. That was my introduction to the dope
game. I took 7 grams of baking soda and 7 grams of the coke to make it double and sold it
as powder in $20 sacks. The rest I took to one of my homeboys named Will and he
showed me how to cook it. The rest is history. I made my first $2,000. I was only 14
years old and I was the man of the house. I gave my mother $500 and kept flipping the
rest. The hopes and dreams of having a normal life were still high on my agenda. I felt
that it was o.k. to do the wrong thing as long as it was for the right reasons. I was the
dope man. But I also was stealing cars, breaking in houses, doing home invasions, and
anything else that I thought would make me some fast cash. I was 14 years old. We
learned how to change the serial numbers and the V.I.N. numbers in the stolen cars. We
lived for those Florida thunderstorms because we used the rain and darkness to do our
dirt. We would go to apartment complexes and steal the cd players and amps out of cars.
And if it was nice enough and we wanted it, we would just steal the whole car.
After we learned to change the serial numbers or the V.I.N. numbers in the cars, we were
able to get the ownership titles and tags for the cars we stole. The police would pull us
over in the stolen cars, write us tickets, and let us go. They never knew the cars were
stolen and we kept them for years. Then we took the music and rims that we stole from
other cars and put them on the cars we were stealing. Sometimes we sold them to other
niggas who knew they were stolen but didn’t care. This went on for years and I started
making some serious cash from the stolen cars. I counted my first $10,000 when I was
only 17. I was a real menace to society. So when I wasn’t out stealing cars and doing
home invasions, I was out on the corner selling dope. The prostitutes usually started to
come out around 5a.m. and I was the first one out waiting on the money to come through.
I was living my life like a race car with no brakes. Speeding… Running all stop signs and
red lights. The only thing on my mind was money. And I got it, any and every way that I
possibly could. I had never been robbed because it’s hard to rob the robber. And this was
my life from the age of 13. I was fearless and heartless. But no matter what I did and how
ruthless I was, GOD was on my mind. I constantly prayed and talked to God about how
much I wanted to change. I just didn’t know how. There was no road map or GPS to even
start. No father or father figure to guide me or tell me right from wrong. All I knew was
that I was on the wrong track. But at times my greed would shadow my thoughts of being
a better person. As I grew older and began to have children, I knew that I had to slow
down and be a better man so that I could be there for them. Natalie gave birth to my 3
kids back to back. D’asia was first, then Erionna was born 2 years later. Then a year later
she had Eric Jr. It was only 2 weeks after she gave birth to Eric Jr. that I was arrested and
sentenced to 24 months in prison. The hardest part was being away from my kids because
that’s who I lived for. I sat in that prison and wrote me a 10 year business plan. I prayed
and asked God to bless me so that I can become a better man after my release. I had so
many people that needed and depended on me. So my plan was to make their lives better
by starting my own business which would also help me to stay out of trouble. I put my
life into that plan. I studied the stock market and I studied the Urban Market. When I was
released from prison, I jumped right into my plan and it was working. The only thing is
that the dope game was still calling my name. Everyone who knew me was asking me for
dope. So it didn’t take long for me to get right back in the streets and start back selling
cocaine. Only this time, the money was 10 times more because I had my clothing business
as well. And pretty soon the clothing store was just a front for me to move my bricks…. I
was back in the game just that quick… Damn
I would lay in bed for hours at night talking to God. Asking why it was so hard for me to
just do the right thing. I wanted a normal life and a future that didn’t include prison. I
knew right from wrong, but I was so deep in the streets that I couldn’t see a way out.
Everyone I knew was either selling dope or smoking dope. My world was revolving
around crack. And I had began to accept the life I was living as normal. But deep inside I
knew that it was far from normal. The only examples I had to go by was the white
families I seen on television. Oh yeah, and the Cosby Show. I told myself that by the time
I turned 25, I would be saved, married, and own my own business. I told myself that I
would be done with the streets and that all of my children would be from the same
woman. I wanted to have my piece of the , so called, American Pie. I told God that I
would be his servant and all I wanted was a perfect life. A life that was filled with love,
happiness, success, and family. Those were the 4 things that I had never seen growing up.
This was often the conversation between God and I. I needed a change. I wanted a
change. I just didn’t have the guidance that it took to make the step in that direction.
Being told that everyone who looked like me and came from where I came from would be
dead or in prison by the age of 25 didn’t help at all. Growing up without a father or a
father figure in my life was not a new story at all. I was lost, and the only one I could turn
to was God. I asked God what I needed to do and my answer came while I was in prison.
My mother let Claw come and live with us when I was 14. He slept on the couch and
helped my mother with bills. He was a few years younger than my mother and spent time
with me showing me what his version of being a man was. He took me fishing and let me
drive his car even before I had a license. We hung out and drunk beer and talked about
Chicago all the time because that’s where he was from. He had a job but I guess he wasn’t stable enough to live on his own. Claw had friend named John that was a baller.
John had a nice truck all decked out with rims and music. John and Claw worked
together at a factory and they made pretty good money. Eventually Claw explained to me
that John sold coke. He was major, but low key at the same time. Claw was getting
fronted a few ounces of coke from John and one day he slipped and showed me where he
kept it at. He was trying to impress me by showing me what he had, but that was not very
smart on his part. My mother was still struggling trying to take care of me and my 2 little
brothers. I remember nights my aunt had to bring us bread and lunch meat from Crystal
River late at night because we were hungry. The refrigerator was empty with the
acceptation of a bottle of ketchup and the bag of cocaine that was hidden under one of the
pull out drawers in the bottom. One morning before school I took a spoon and scooped up
a pile of the coke then replaced it with baking soda. I sold it to some of the white boys at
school that wanted to get high. All my homeboys were bringing fake coke and fake weed
selling it to them, but I had the real deal. It didn’t take long for word to spread and I
business started booming until Claw made a sale to one of his customers and they brought
it back telling him it was straight baking soda. He was furious and he knew I was the
only one who knew it was there. It wasn’t really much he could do to me so he just
packed his things and moved out. I bought me a scale from the Arab store and went home
to weigh how much cocaine I had took from him over the3 past few months. It was 16
grams. That was a little over a half of an ounce. That was my introduction to the dope
game. I took 7 grams of baking soda and 7 grams of the coke to make it double and sold it
as powder in $20 sacks. The rest I took to one of my homeboys named Will and he
showed me how to cook it. The rest is history. I made my first $2,000. I was only 14
years old and I was the man of the house. I gave my mother $500 and kept flipping the
rest. The hopes and dreams of having a normal life were still high on my agenda. I felt
that it was o.k. to do the wrong thing as long as it was for the right reasons. I was the
dope man. But I also was stealing cars, breaking in houses, doing home invasions, and
anything else that I thought would make me some fast cash. I was 14 years old. We
learned how to change the serial numbers and the V.I.N. numbers in the stolen cars. We
lived for those Florida thunderstorms because we used the rain and darkness to do our
dirt. We would go to apartment complexes and steal the cd players and amps out of cars.
And if it was nice enough and we wanted it, we would just steal the whole car.
After we learned to change the serial numbers or the V.I.N. numbers in the cars, we were
able to get the ownership titles and tags for the cars we stole. The police would pull us
over in the stolen cars, write us tickets, and let us go. They never knew the cars were
stolen and we kept them for years. Then we took the music and rims that we stole from
other cars and put them on the cars we were stealing. Sometimes we sold them to other
niggas who knew they were stolen but didn’t care. This went on for years and I started
making some serious cash from the stolen cars. I counted my first $10,000 when I was
only 17. I was a real menace to society. So when I wasn’t out stealing cars and doing
home invasions, I was out on the corner selling dope. The prostitutes usually started to
come out around 5a.m. and I was the first one out waiting on the money to come through.
I was living my life like a race car with no brakes. Speeding… Running all stop signs and
red lights. The only thing on my mind was money. And I got it, any and every way that I
possibly could. I had never been robbed because it’s hard to rob the robber. And this was
my life from the age of 13. I was fearless and heartless. But no matter what I did and how
ruthless I was, GOD was on my mind. I constantly prayed and talked to God about how
much I wanted to change. I just didn’t know how. There was no road map or GPS to even
start. No father or father figure to guide me or tell me right from wrong. All I knew was
that I was on the wrong track. But at times my greed would shadow my thoughts of being
a better person. As I grew older and began to have children, I knew that I had to slow
down and be a better man so that I could be there for them. Natalie gave birth to my 3
kids back to back. D’asia was first, then Erionna was born 2 years later. Then a year later
she had Eric Jr. It was only 2 weeks after she gave birth to Eric Jr. that I was arrested and
sentenced to 24 months in prison. The hardest part was being away from my kids because
that’s who I lived for. I sat in that prison and wrote me a 10 year business plan. I prayed
and asked God to bless me so that I can become a better man after my release. I had so
many people that needed and depended on me. So my plan was to make their lives better
by starting my own business which would also help me to stay out of trouble. I put my
life into that plan. I studied the stock market and I studied the Urban Market. When I was
released from prison, I jumped right into my plan and it was working. The only thing is
that the dope game was still calling my name. Everyone who knew me was asking me for
dope. So it didn’t take long for me to get right back in the streets and start back selling
cocaine. Only this time, the money was 10 times more because I had my clothing business
as well. And pretty soon the clothing store was just a front for me to move my bricks…. I
was back in the game just that quick… Damn
This is dummy text. It is not meant to be read. Accordingly, it is difficult to figure out when to end it. But then, this is dummy text. It is not meant to be read. Period.
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