White Heat Beast
By Steven M. Jennings
White Heat Beast © 2018 Steven Jennings
[email protected]
Copyright © 2018 Steven M. Jennings
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13:978-1480112155
ISBN-10:1480112151
DEDICATION
I dedicate this book to my beloved and deceased son
Alexavier Chaz Jennings
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Chaotic Confusion
Chapter 2: The Secret Committee
Chapter 3: Degradation of Desperation
Chapter 4: Thug Life Interlude
Chapter 5: The First Shot
Chapter 6: Shawn’s Test
Chapter 7: Linda’s Problem With Men
Chapter 8: Beast Transformation
Chapter 9: Devilish Details
Preface
This book came into existence because I have always had an interest in science fiction, and religion. I am also interested in the soon approaching so called Technological Singularity and its implications for mankind.
Steven Jennings
Chapter 1: Chaotic Confusion
My favorite gangster movie of all time was White Heat, with James Cagney. He was one crazy motherfucker! Nobody could stop this dude; he broke the law, he broke out of jail, he killed a lot of bastards and when it was his time to go, he went out in a blaze of glory!
That's the true life and death of a gangster, and that's what I grew up trying to live up to. People viewed me as a balanced mixture of street smarts and intelligence. Yet, I myself had no idea who I really was.
I could switch from a street thug to an intelligent young white man at will. But I have chosen darkness over light more times than I should. I have lived in the ghetto for as long as I can remember.
We were always that one White family on the block, but the Blacks and the Mexicans never fucked with us, because they knew what my brother Barry, and I, would do to their ass.
But at this current moment, I prayed that God could change me. Because I was lying in a hospital bed, damn near dead, and in a state of shock. It seemed like just a moment earlier I was in a gun fight and dealing with a life or death situation.
I remembered being surprised by a flash of light, then fire and darkness, followed by a silence that lasted one second. Then I began to have these vivid dreams in moments within the blink of an eye.
I can’t remember them all, but each dream felt like a lifetime in a glance. After the flash video under my fucking eyelids, I woke up. I just opened my eyes and to my surprise, all of my family members were huddled around me looking at me. My brother Barry had his mouth wide open in shock. I wanted to laugh because he didn’t even look that surprised in the courtroom, when the Judge handed him 20 years in prison! I thought I was still dreaming.
Then Barry began telling me this long ass story, but I could only hear every other sentence. He said something like, “Wow he’s awake, call Doctor something and something!”
I closed my eyes for a few seconds and opened them again in order to see if I was still dreaming, but I wasn’t. My entire family was standing over me, and it looked like they were all waiting for me to say something back. I guessed the facts would unfold shortly. But at that very moment, I was too tired to speak. I was also too damn weak to keep my eyes open for any period of time. I decided to just sit still for a little while and rest. Yeah, that sounded fine right at that moment. My name is Shawndre Allen Brown, also known as Shawn-Smoove. I got the nickname a little later, but I started out as plain ole Shawn, a nickel and dime street thug. Back in the day you could catch me on the block slinging dope and holding a pistol.
Even though I was considered White Trash, I was built like an NFL running back; I wore the finest gear and kept a fresh pair of Gym Shoes on. Plus I got a big ass dick, so I kept the hoes blowing me up on the cell. Whoever said White boys got little dicks, must have been a player hater. Shit cause I be putting it down, and the ladies around my hood knew about me!
Selling drugs ran in our family, I was born with connections. But that became much too risky after a while. The strange part about me, was that I was also an A student. I loved to read and write poetry, and I had a vocabulary that enabled me to switch dialects and talk over my homeboy’s heads when I wanted to, just like that. As a matter of fact, everyone in our house was smart. We just chose not to be, in order to fit in. But us being smart made people bring illegal opportunities to our doorstep.
My brother and I were the smart dudes always willing to do dirt. But I eventually came to a place in my life, where after hearing my teachers tell me I was too smart to go to prison or end up in the cemetery, I decided not to die young.
I figured maybe I’d go to college or join the army or some shit. For a while I was really getting my shit together, but every single time I got going, I found myself back in the same trouble I was trying to escape. As I look back on my life, I tend to think of the bad times more than the good. And speaking of bad times, I always had the most terrible dreams at night.
I remember this one in detail, when I’m in a dark place; where the stench of death’s breath burned my neck, and the heat of the fiery pits of hell scorched the soles of my feet. I’m on my poetic shit right now, feel me? Because the only way I can explain this feeling, was that the grasp of heaven was beyond my reach.
It was a place where no person should ever be. That’s some deep shit, but my reality was even deeper. I had to face my own personal demons in order to defeat them and take charge of my life. So there I was, laid up in a hospital bed, thinking, barely awake and obviously a remnant of the man I once was.
I kept thinking, “Damn I can’t even move my fucking toes right now!” All my life I stayed in some type of trouble, like it was meant to be.
I admired the ideals of the stereotypical hardcore thug image. For much of my adolescent years I just didn’t give a damn about anything or anyone.
To me, High School was just a place to hang while I was trying to come down from my morning high. I always had to smoke weed in the morning, the afternoon and after I got out of school, it was just a way of life.
I stood on an old shabby corner right off Durgans Avenue, next to a condemned broken down building, with an abandoned parking lot across the street. The parking lot hadn’t been used in so long that it had 2-foot weeds growing through the cracks of the cement. The sky around that place was always dull and gray. When I looked up to see if the sun was shining, it never did. Sometimes I thought the sun never shined in that part of the ghetto.
There were wine heads and bums walking up and down the streets, in a scurry, as if they had some important engagement to make. And the police circled around that block every hour on the hour.
Across the street, there was an old record store that stood about two stories high. It was one of those places where you never quite knew the name, so you just called it the record store. The drug ring was composed of this record store, which was our supply house, and the parking lot area.
If the police gave a damn, they could catch any one of me and three other kids walking around that area with 1000 bucks worth of dope in our possession. We didn’t care too much about getting caught by the police. The guys on our block sold out of dope so fast, that our minds were mainly focused on the crime rather than the time. It was seldom that a drug dealer on our block had to look for a sell. I could barely take 15 steps before some crackhead was trying to get served. Sometimes I felt bad when the crackheads sent their kids to cop some dope for them. I hated to give drugs to little kids, but business was business.
We kept our drugs hidden in inconspicuous places. My favorite spot was under a garbage can, near the exit of the
parking lot. I would stand in front of the lot for hours at a time, seriously acting like I was waiting on the bus, or someone to pick me up. Every time I saw a cop I would start looking at my watch. You see if the police ever picked me up I would say, “My cousin is on his way to give me a ride to work and he never showed up, so I’m trying to see if the bus comes here.” I know that’s some serious bullshit, but hey, I was a teenager. However the cops never stopped, they just drove past and picked up packages from the bosses. Some people on the block thought I was way too courageous for my age.
For example, anyone on our shift had access to a 38 caliber pistol that was hidden by the sewer, in between the candy store and the parking lot. But I was the only one with enough heart to put it to somebody’s head if they were short on our money. The crazy part about this whole set-up was that we were in the middle of a highly populated residential area in the middle of the ghetto, and everyone knew what we were doing! Nobody tells on you though, that’s the code of the ghetto. Nobody knows, you forget, and it’s quiet as kept.
I was known to pop off gunshots in broad daylight when a fiend tried to snatch and grab my crack. My life was one crazy ass rodeo ride in those days! One time I was serving up two cracks and a blow to a hooker, and her friend walks up and says, “Hey baby, I will give you some of this here pussy, for a 20 dollar rock.” I looked down at this bitch butt and she was built like a race horse! More ass than a donkey on the real! Well hell, I worked for this crazy dude named, Flame, and he didn’t give a damn what I did with my drugs as long as I turned in the appropriate amount of money at the end of my shift.
So my little dumb ass followed her into this apartment building. It was about a half a block from the set, in this little shoebox sized hole in the wall.
The building stood between two burnt houses and crack heads were walking in and out of it like a seven eleven. I followed her into this apartment, only because I was feeling kind of horny lately, and to my surprise,
the apartment was phat as hell! I mean this dope head had furniture, a T.V. and all types of vases and stuff up in there. I was very impressed! I started looking around, browsing the area and I noticed that she wasn’t on any of the pictures in the place. Not on the walls, the stereo, or nothing! I started to wonder if she broke into someone’s house?
The last thing I needed was to get caught in someone else’s house with drugs on me. That’s drugs, breaking and entering and God knows what else type of felony! She could have killed some old folks and stuffed they ass in a closet somewhere. Crack can make a person do some seriously disturbed shit. I stopped and looked at her real funny, as if I was confused, and asked, ”who lives here?” she was walking around the house wringing her hands nervously, “Why the hell you wanna know?”
I said, “Because hoe! I don’t need no cops blasting me up over no crack hoe!” She looked at me sideways and said, “crack hoe huh?”
She chuckled then said, “Who are you calling a crack hoe you dumb White bitch!” Then she looked up in the sky as if she was about to howl at the moon and hollered out in a Jamaican accent, “Com ear an get dis fool for I knock em down!” And like the sound of a thunderstorm I heard feet slamming down on the apartment floor so hard,
I thought it was about to cave in! I turned and tried to make it for the door. But when I looked up about 4 Jamaican looking, Bob Marley shirt wearing type dudes with dreadlocks, were busting out the closets like SWAT cops, with Assault Rifles aimed at me!
They had me face down to the ground kicking me and cursing and shouting. All I could do was lay there. I didn’t say a damn word. The element of surprise is a motherfucker! I didn’t know what they wanted so I decided that I would die with my mouth shut and a small amount of dignity. They proceeded to dig through my pockets and my jacket until they found my stash.
I had about $7800 in cash and $2500 worth of drugs on me that day. I guess someone was watching my movements, and they were probably counting my money as I made it. After whipping my ass a little, they dragged me outside and told me to get lost. I felt totally humiliated and angry, and actually that was the last day that I ever sold drugs. I knew that I could’ve been killed very easily. Those guys could have blown my brains out and it would have just been another unsolved mystery.
As I walked down the crowded streets to my car, which was parked four alleys away, I shook a little bit of the ghetto off of my back. I shook off a little attitude, a little ignorance and a little bit of thug mentality. This was real, not a music video. Needless to say, I told Flame what they did, and let’s put it like this, I saw them punks on the 9 o’clock news that night. They were found hanging by extension cords on an oak tree near the West Suburbs.
It was pretty gruesome. I heard something about them having multiple gunshot wounds to the head, and one dude had his dick cut off. The girl was found dead in a garbage can with both of her legs broken. Flame had to send out a message, don’t mess with his dope! Flame let me off the hook because he said he liked me, and he thought I had some heart to be a white boy. He was one scary dude.
So anyway, I sat and thought that night, about the dangerous game I was playing. I was always the one to do something crazy and think about how crazy it was later. At the end of that night, I was lying in my bed and staring at the ceiling. I thought about how close I came to my own death. I thought about dying, and the possibility of never knowing what it is like to have a family and a home. I thought about my brother in Prison, and what he may have been doing when he was my age.
My brother had been locked up since he was 18. It had been almost 10 years to date. But the time had come when I was the one who was 18 and unfortunately, I was the only one left holding it down around the house, since he left.
As I rested in my bed, I made a decision to change my life for the better. Maybe school was the key to my success; maybe the Army was an even better choice. So on that night I made a promise to myself. I promised to keep away from trouble! I started to sink down into my bed while listening to some slow jams. I was reminiscing about fucking this girl named Rose. She was a Spanish broad with thick legs and a juicy ass. Rose would pull my dick out in public sometime just to look at it. I remember one time we were at a carnival and we took some Ecstasy, and Rose pulled my dick out in front of her best friend; then both of them grabbed my cock and led me behind the back fence. We laid in the grass and Rose and her friend took turns sucking me. I was so turned on; my dick got so fucking hard, it had to be a foot long! Those girls were some certified freaks. They were sucking and sweating and playing with their pussies at the same time, until her girlfriend stood up and said, “Damn I gotta get me some of that meat Rose!”
She dropped her panties and sat down on my dick so hard, I couldn’t believe it, because girls never took it in so fast. She yelled out loud, “Oh Shit Papi! Fuck this pussy!” So I fucked her, and I fucked Rose for about two hours in the grass behind the carnival. We were all rolling around pumping, with cum squirting in the air; cussing and stroking like a bunch of lunatics.
I fucked those girls so good, they were both laid out in the grass, looking in the nighttime sky in a daze. As a cool wind blew over our half naked bodies, we didn’t care that we were all covered in dirt and grass and sweaty. That shit was crazy. I started jerking off in the bed thinking about that night. I kept thinking, why did I lose her number?
As I busted a nut, I could feel the stress dissolving from my body. It was comforting to know that I wasn’t going to be standing on that street corner anymore. Then all of the sudden I heard a crashing sound! Like a door being kicked in by the police. I thought lightning fast and remembered that I didn’t have any drugs in my possession. I had to quickly wipe the cum off my leg. Then I considered, why the fuck was I jerking off in the first place? I had issues. I had to use my bed sheet to clean myself off like a dumb ass teenage dork.
And almost simultaneously, I heard my mother screaming to the top of her lungs for help. I jumped out of bed and nearly busted my head as I tripped over my
Nintendo 64 and my Air Jordans. I ran down the hallway to the kitchen. Then I saw the man that I have hated most of my life with his hands around my mother’s throat! It was my father, and he was drunk as hell! I ran into the kitchen and scrambled through the cluttered drawers to find a knife. I wished that I had put the knives where they were supposed to be. Whenever I washed dishes I didn’t really give a damn where they went. I never cooked anyway. My mother yelled at me, “Call the police Shawn! I can’t breathe! He’s crazy! He’s crazy!”
I yelled out, “Damn it!” and I jumped on his back and tried to pull him off my mother. I smelled the foul odor of stale alcohol oozing through his pores. I could feel the beard stubble and slob on his face brush across my forearm as I struggled with him. He yelled, “Get the hell off me boy! Your mother is a whore and I’m gonna make this shit right!”
He released her and turned and looked at me with his fist balled up and a grimace on his face.
I backed up in horror; my dad was a big motherfucker! He stood about 6’6 and was around 340 pounds solid. He looked at me so intense, as if he was looking through me, even my soul, and then he paused, turned to the door, and stormed out of the house.
My mother was crouched down on her knees crying with her hands over her face; whispering in a raspy voice, “How could he say that in front of you.”
I never knew what my father saw when he looked at me until many years later. He was looking at a reflection of himself. My home life was pretty chaotic at times. My mother and father split up when I was a baby. When I became older my mother never told me why things didn’t work out between them.
My brother once wrote me a letter telling me they always fought because Daddy was a gambler, drug dealer and a pimp. He used to hang out all times of the night and come home with two or three thousand bucks at a time. Then he would go out and loose it all within hours. My dad was a handsome guy in his day.
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