• “29th Street, ohSH!7.” BlahBlahBizzle pulled the Ghetto Bus #9 stop cord, yanking it off the wall. The bus driver skidded to a halt, afraid BlahBlah would try to jump on him. Again.
    “Later, Homie!” BlahBlah said as he got off the bus, rocking it back and forth, slapping the 60-year-old driver upside the head. He jumped off the bus, the tires re-inflating behind him. The driver sped away, afraid he’d try to get back on after realizing it was the wrong stop. Oh, you sneaky, sneaky, bus driver, you.
    With the sun blinding and bearing down on BlahBlah’s face, he felt a draft. He couldn’t feel where it came from, but he walked toward it anyway. He found himself in a bright, tall building. He heard things like “Nippah!” and “Nyaa~!” . His hand went towards his gun, hidden in his crotch. “What you mutha fu*kas be sayin'?” He yelled. He looked around, thinking that the people dressed like freaks here, and not in the usual Red bandanas and shirts he was used to seeing. “ya’ll be Crips, Ain’t ya?!” He yelled in his weird southern accent.
    “Crips, nyaa~?” A girl with pink hair asked. “This isn’t a gang, nyaa...” She continued. “It’s a comic-con! She made a 3nodding face.
    “Oh… Then where the projects be? That fuc*in driva dropped me off wrong!”
    “The next bus isn’t for two hours, nyaa.” She accordingly skipped away.
    “Aw, fu*k.” He cursed. “I’ma get Jamal up in hurr an gimme a ride out. Gotta do dem drive bys later.” Sadly, BlahBlah didn’t know, a Happy-Go-Lucky Kagome was skipping along, next to a 6-foot Inuyasha, an I-pod connecting them.
    “Wut tha hell?! Why ya’ll dress so ugly?!” He yelled at them. The Kagome cosplayer turned around sniffling.
    “I told you!” She said to Inuyasha “We’re never gonna win the cosplay contest!” She ran away crying, yanking the IPod out of Inuyasha’s ear and dangling it behind her as she ran. “BAD DOG! SIT!” She screamed.
    The cosplayer collapsed to the ground, true to his act. “OW! You d**k!” He said to BlahBlah. He rubbed his ear. “Now I can’t get up!”
    “Whateva, man.” He said and walked away.
    BlahBlah is a very… Healthy person to be a gangsta. In other words, he’s fat as hell. So the huge tub of lard in the middle of his basketball shaped body he called a stomach started growling with hunger. 7 minutes he hadn’t eaten, a new personal record! It would’ve been longer, except he smelled biscuits.
    “ooooh. I smell like wut gramma used ta make…” And drifted towards the scent like in one of those Tom And Jerry cartoons. He kept floating until he hit a wall. Oh, you sneaky, sneaky, wall, you. He hit the ground.
    “Wut ta F*ck!” He looked up at the building. “Ahn-uh-may café.” He read retardedly, the big bold lettering and red, decorated brick walls staring back at him. He still wanted biscuits. He got up and walked in.
    “hell naw…” He had to climb stairs. BUT WAIT! Were those… “Yea!” He shouted. There was an elevator! He pressed the only other floor. “2” and let the elevator take him to a warm biscuit paradise.
    Needless to say, he terrorized the waitresses by making them give him free food and tripping them. But alas, karma will always bite Bloods back in the arse. On the way down (on the elevator), BlahBlah felt a strange itch. It was the kind of itch many people felt when going through puberty, and was considered embarrassing. BlahBlah, have you no shame? No, plus he didn’t notice the cameras. So he scratched. But BlahBlah forgot one very important thing never left out of Hollywood action movies, or any time someone hid a gun in their lower quarters.
    He forgot to put the safety on.