The first rays of sunlight burst through the slightly open blinds, and hit Lamont in the face. He mumbled a curse word and sat up quickly to shut the blinds. His were stuck shut from the sleep in them. As he rubbed his eyes, the room came into focus.
It was a small room, but nice enough for him. It had a bed, an old oak dresser against the opposite wall, and a desk containing his stereo by the door.
His head throbbed incessantly, a painful reminder of the wild night he had the night before. As he slowly stood up, the room started spinning violently. He decided he wasn't quite ready to stand up and sat back down on the normal-size bed that slighlty lowered under his 170-pound figure. When he was convinced he was fine, he gort up and walked into the bathroom.
As he entered the bathroom and turned on the light, a gut-wrenching smell lingered, forcing him to cover his nose with a blue towel sitting on the white, porcelain sink. Apparently, at some point in the night, he had gone to the toilet and vomited. Whether because of drunkenness or sleepiness, he had forgotten to flush. He quickly did so now, in an attempt to rid the room of the horrid smell. After searching the closet, and finding and spraying the vanilla-scented air spray, he looked at himself in the mirror.
He hardly recognized himself anymore. At 27, he felt like he was about twice that age. His knotty, brown hair was braided back in cornorws, which were becoming loose and frizzy. His dark brown eyes were just a shade darker than his skin. On his right cheek was a one-inch long scar, a constant reminder of how things can go wrong. He decided he needed to take a shower.
Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out of the shower onto the white-tiled floor, feeling somewhat refreshed. He hadn't noticed, but the phone was ringing. He ran into the living room and picked it up on the fourth ring.
"Peace," Lamont said, as he grabbed the receiver.
"Peace. What's up, God," came the rugged voice on the other end. Lamont automatically recognized the voice of his friend Jason. They were in the same Hip-Hop group together with five other guys. Actually, he was their manager. they trusted him and he trusted them.
They talked on the phone for fifteen minutes. Jason had called to inform Lamont that they had to go to the studio and record some songs that day for their upcoming album. Lamont agreed, hung up the phone, and got ready. He put on his normal gear: a pair of baggy, black Karl Kani jeans, an extra-large black hoodie, and a black, fitted Raiders cap, which he turned backwards and slightly to the left.
The walk to 4th Chamber Studios was only three blocks, but by the time he got there, the group was already recording one song. As he entered, he could see the members in the studio, and Antoine, their producer, behind the switchboard. Lamont had never bothered to learn how to use one. It had too many knobs, switches, and little buttons. He decided to stick with managing. When the track ended, he clapped his hands, and the group came out of the 10' by 10', sound-proof recording studio.
Jason, Derrick, Andre, Marcus, and David came out of and shook hands with Lamont. The only missing was Deion, who was currently locked up in Rikers Island on false charges.
The rest of the day went the same. Lamont sat with Antoine while the group recorded songs. They didn't finish until about midnight. They had been there for ten hours. They decided to meet tomorrow at the same time. They shook hands and prepared to go home and sleep.
As Lamont exited the studio, he was greeted by a blast of cold air that reminded him that winter was now in effect. He put on his headphones and sang as he walked the cold, deserted, and silent streets. As he turned onto hampton Street, his favorite song, "Older Gods" by Wu-Tang Clan, came on. So, he turned the volume up all the way.
A car turned on the street and came toward him, blinding him with it's headlights temporarily. Then, when it passed, he continued walking and singing in the cold night. He was so wrapped up in the next song, "Maria," that he didn't hear the car creeping up slowly behind him. It was a dark-blue Lexus, with tinted windows, and the headlights turned off. It continued to inch up on him, until it was within three feet of him.
Then, the car stopped slowly, and two men armed with 9-millimeter pistols jumped out. Each unloaded a whole clip at him for a total of 32 bullets fired. He didn't hear them coming and had no chance to pull out the .357 magnum, which he had tucked in his waist. One bullet hit him in his back and he fell to the cold ground below.
The men jumped back in the car and sped away, leaving in as much mystery as they came in.
When police found Lamonts' body minutes later, he was already dead from a single shot to the back. The song, "A Better Tomorrow," was playing on his headphones.
Wise God Allah
(formerly Known as Grier Montgomery)
1970-1997
We'll miss You, God!
This story is partially true and partially fictional. Wise God Allah, the manager of Killarmy, was shot and killed. It was with a 9-millimeters and only one bullet hit him in the back. 32 bullets were fired! He had a .357 Magnum which was not fired. He was on a street at night. It's not known how many were in on the shooting. As the story develops, they now have 3 people in connection with his murder on trial. Go to Wise God murder clips to see the details. All the parts about the day were fictional. I don't Know what he did that day. From what I hear he was at a party. Please email me about what You think of the story. Thanks. Peace!
