A/n: Another story for Jose. Love your pictures!
Paper Planes
Disclaimer: I do NOT own HA! All belong to their respectable owners.
Based off the M.I.A song: Paper Planes (Song on Pineapple Express soundtrack)
I'll
fly like a paper get high like planes
Catch me at the border I got
visas in my name
If you come around here I'll make em all
day
I'll get one done in a second if you wait
The cool air burns my open cuts as I race against it with speed and alacrity a professional athlete couldn't meet. I want to stop running but if I do, the police will catch me and I'll be sent to The Juvenile Detention Center. "Juvy" is what my boys and I call it. It's a kid prison that was built to house unruly children with the capability to bring society to its knees; somewhere the feds want me and the rest of "my kind" to go to "rid the streets of crime and chaos to ensure the well-being of tomorrow's future". I bet they had a hard time making that up to justify their barbaric performances. They might as well take a bow; they sure as hell are putting on a show for the public.
Sometimes
I think sitting on trains
Every step I get to I'm clocking that
game
Everyone's a winner, we're making our fame
Bonafide
hustler making my name
Dogs barking as police-car sirens whirl around in the milieu are all I hear. They are closing in on me and, if I don't run faster, I'll be caught. I look to my left and see Tyler, my best-friend since eighth grade, jump a metal fence and fall over to the other side of a vacant lot. It's too dark to see where exactly he had hidden, but I bet anything that he is in one of the old cars that had been left there to rust away until they were taken to the scrap heap. I follow his example and make my way to the fence, the shiny metallic material seeming so abstract that I feel as if I can touch it. I'm only yards away from the diamond gated metal but it feels like miles. I hear someone call out to me from a distance and, out of instinct, I turn around. It's Jeff, Tyler's younger brother of about five years, and he's running in the same direction I am. He says something but I can't hear it over the loud police sirens. I try and mouth to him that I cannot understand him, but he has his concentration on something else now. A puddle of water from earlier rain-falls, as big as the street itself, is now Jeff's leading opponent, but he doesn't catch it in time. He falls head first and becomes faced with a bright light.
All I wanna do is…
A police car quickly skids to a halt and three police men, two white and another of Latino decent, exit the vehicle. They say some slurs that I can't hear from my current position while removing their clubs from their protective coverings. Jeff tries to scurry away from fear, but judging by the cop's authoritative demeanor, it was a bad idea.
A single blow to the head was what I heard Jeff receive, as well as a single round of gun-shots rush towards one of the policemen. One of the white cops fell down from the blows while the other went to go find the source of the shooting. I knew it was Tyler who sent of the bullets, but I don't know where he was exactly. The Latino cop held his club firmly in his hand as he observed the surroundings, his sudden state of fear becoming apparent as he held onto the wooden club as if it were his last life-line. He spotted me and yelled out: "Come're boy!" The chase was on.
And a
I couldn't jump over the gate because it would have given away Tyler's position, so I continued to run to wherever my tired legs would take me. I spotted a nearby liquor store that read: Open 24 hours and decided it was the perfect place to hide. I'm sure they have seen this kind of behavior once or twice before, so if I dip in for a minute, nothing out of the ordinary would be noticed.
A middle-eastern man recited some greeting as I ran through the front door and towards the back of the store, hiding away behind a chip stand from the cop that raced right in after me.
"Have you seen some black kid that looks dangerous around here?" He was out of breath and, judging by his weight, easily tired. "He has a gun."
The man at the counter replied nothing as he just simply pointed to the back of the store, locating my current position. I swore a few times before I began to race off into the night, but not before throwing a little escapade of my own. Jumping over the candy coated counter, I struck a solid blow atop of the man's head with my elbow and forced open the cash register. It made that "Ka-Ching" sound I always loved hearing. I grabbed whatever I could before that fat cop came behind me and attempted to grab me. I was too quick for him and left out the door, pocket full of twenties and a handful of "Now-and-Laters"
And take your money
Pirate
skulls and bones
Sticks and stones and seeds and bombs
Running
when we hit em
A lethal poison for the system
I round the corner for the third time in two minutes to take a breather. I hadn't seen a trace of police since I left the liquor store, so I am assuming they are gone. My heart is beating at a heavy pace and I can feel its reverberations through my ears. I feel like vomiting but I can't take a moment for self-induced luxury. I have to find Tyler and Jeff. Unwrapping one of my many Now-and-Laters, I pop it in my mouth to savor its sweet flavor. My breathing becomes more normal and I feel like collapsing from exhaustion.
More sirens ring out around me and that fat Latino cop makes way to me, yelling out to someone beside him that is holding a rifle while wearing some heavy duty uniform. Shit.
No
one on the corner had swagger like us
Hit me on the bunner
Pre
paid wireless
We pack and deliver like ups trucks
Already going
hell
Just pumping that gas
I don't think, I just run. My fatigue is long forgotten but the race for my life is evident. Some older more masculine voices reign around me in a sea of lights and loud bells and whistles. I can feel the wave of police cars gain on me with incredible speed even I can't outmatch. They speak from some bullhorn asking that I stop and turn myself in, but I don't listen. I can't give in that easily.
No
one on the corner had swagger like us
Hit me on the bunner
Pre
paid wireless
We pack and deliver like ups trucks
Already going
hell
Just pumping that gas
One of the men yell out some obscene racial insults that he thought would have caused me to stop and confront him; he's sadly mistaken though. I can deal with him later. I can't let my concentration advert from my main objective. Jeff and Tyler need me and I bet anything, Jeff is half-way dead while Tyler is strapped in a police car on his way to prison.
All I wanna do is…
I hear one of the men yell out "fire" to all who obey him. He must see me as a threat. I know why though. I am just a regular seventeen year old kid in Air Jordans, a Bulls Jersey, and Marte Francis Girbuad jeans. What's threatening about that?
A round of gun-shots dance around me and one barely misses me. The slight sting of a metal bullet running against my skin causes me to groan out in agony, but I don't stop running for a second. Instead I retaliate.
And a
My handgun is now embedded within my grasp and I now find myself aiming it for an officer's head. I pull the trigger and with exact precision, shoot the bullet directly in the middle of the man's forehead. He falls and a sea of yells and screams come my way. I am on a first class ride to hell.
A burning sensation courses through my veins as I fall down onto the concrete pavement in a matter of milliseconds. I can only touch my leg for a brief moment before a heavy boot is placed on my back in an effort to keep my still. There is a single bullet lodged inside my calf and it burns like a bitch. An officer deliberately steps on my injured leg and allows me to shriek out in pain. He whispers something in my ear and places his gun to my temple. His hands rummage around in my pockets and grab all the money I stole for Phoebe and our newborn. He just laughs and cocks the gun, lights go out and sirens go deaf.
And take your money
A/N: For Jose. I couldn't sleep unless I got his out. Love you Jose,