Reset Button. (part I)
You want to talk about sanity and Bigelow? Cappadonna’s Bigelow. The dude who couldn’t put shit in to the miracle machine so took all the broke-ass pawns off prowl duty and started a revolution in the no-revolution zone- Columbia hights DC. Man was on some one flew over type shit. Fuckin, ugly, poor and crazy. You can’t stop a force like that.
So there he was. At the zoo. That way he could dip in and out of all the different animal houses, conduct each branch of operations designated with a genus and species and in the shadows where only lizards or monkeys could eavesdrop conspiracy.
That way. That way was the only way that summer I think. You heard all about the wheels of destiny right? Well that was where Bigelow came in- he was a man in the right place at the right time. DC was a ghost town around then. This was like ‘90 or something. We should of took pictures it was so awesome. And over. Things are terrible now. Worse than they was before all this.
Yeah so destiny right? The kingpin before Bigelow was prairie road joe. He was a cold hearted mutherfucker. A Asshole hobo machaveli. The only people on these streets who could import product at that time had to be hard-cut but this guy was a fucking nightmare. 44 murders in as short of a time he was on top. However. We were served. The hustlers and junkies were like edamame. And anyway the blood dried fast it was pretty hot and dry that year.
Anyway Prarie road set it up where we’d have to do the worst things imaginable to get our take and our point across at the same time. The machine was oiled with bloody ghastly examples. This was about getting to the core. raped rape. Murdered death and burned arson. Fucking Chaos in the air like that you think the machine would’ve broke down. But it didn’t. Not at all. For two years this city was lit up. Only the wildfire had to be stoked. That’s where Bigelow found his way in. He was like the last ditch effort of the less favored go to guy of Prarie. Praries ace was this nigga Papa. Papa don’t preach right? Yea so Papa aimed his gun one day at the dude who corporate sponsored Prarie’s junkie picnics Alvaro. Jr. Alvaro is Harmony’s boy you know him right? Yeah this dude was his dad. Papa’s Sucker.
Anyway, apparently Papa’s sucker target was Prarie’s herloom. Hernius Rorch the III- the previous previous Don. Dude had hooked up the hood with extracurricular money by running his fingers through the hair of pretty much most of the upstanding citizens council- those last standing after the second-to-last terraform that is... Hernius Rorch was a practical man but he wasn’t really all that practical cuz he practically brought down the whole empire when he exacted revenge on Rilke- (Who, although he was Bigelow’s granddad, had nothing whatsoever to do with the rest of this tale so don’t worry your little head). You see- much like Prarie and much unlike Bigelow, Hernius seemed to eventually exact revenge on every god damn party who came to the table. Rilke was just the most beloved at the time.
Things get turned upside down every so often. When your standing on the top you can have your head submerged in the shit fast and vice versa. When your standing in the middle you pretty much keep company with the same, fare the same, you stay aaight I guess. Well this was Bigelow’s vantage when Pappa popped Alvaro that fateful day. It was pure mayhem after Prarie found out hearsay from Leo. (Harmonies’ uncle Leo- yeah. That piece of shit.) This kid Pretzel, Leo’s Preacher Arimis’ usher, came up on Alvaro’s remains right where they dropped. And like manna from heaven the hood ate this news up and spit it out in the form of Leo’s bugleboy ass.
Preety soon, with things already being so overheated, wintertime came and froze off all of the edges of the operation. The seasons, as they change, need trappings to show themselves in. So you know the difference. That’s one of the reasons D.C. was corpulent in this shit: Things stayed fresh.
Enough of that natural selection bullshit, the point is back then, the thug army responded to powershifts. Things worked clockwork and high stakes as they should. All that’s happening right now is time is passing.
The NNO- new normal order- may have brought the law but were bored as fuck in this town. We need a new golem to split the atom. Some kind of explosive magic spread through the street at furious velocity. Untill then like standing water we wait. It Drives a man to do things like driving over to his best friends house and braking in and taking a piss all over the hallway rug.
Dixie Christian was the bitch who took pause whenever right after he offed someone to give them their last rights. If he did it in the presence of a man of the collar or even a deacon he would make them do it under duress.
Mr. Ashen fingers owned and regularly stalked the part of town around the rotted out niketown, like by the old highscale riverwalk. You could almost see the rich ghosts walking their dogs. He quite a few up-to-no-good establishments but none knew about each other’s configuration in his scheme so they warred within. I don’t know why but he liked it that way.
Jixie and Dixie were best friends, lovers and partners when they started out out of east boston. The jew who perjured for jixie was Meineke. Meineke took pains over dixies items that needed burning or burying. Jixie knowing he was so meticulous.Bigelow’s sin was he never let on that the thousand or so losers in his army were never trained. So he always had to fix countless breakdowns of the engine with other losers and fill the gaps. It took more fuel than the city’s wells ever had.
So blood leveled things like it always does.
There was a standard among samurai and penitent men alike that would never be true to these armored men. The NNO was staffed and mobilized by bigelow after the winter ‘72 he returned with lessons from all seven seas. It was easy because now his words were so sharp. He murdered in sermons and songs. The power of these multiplied, propagating through waves of gossip. All the things they said he could do and could have done.
“Bring me people as evil and porcelain fragile.” “Bring me their bodies to Frankenstein.” “After the rain there is fungus. I am the rain. ”
So as the porch boys and their old daddies were simmering out here that year the violence actually ended.
However,
The reunion of epic enemies arrives once every equinox. The uprisings ending only with the start of new ones. Fresh faces in the martyrs wake. New names we forget soon. Except for The Diamond.
The Diamond was a man but he was a rock. Ask his followers about the explosions he stood through. Keeping his eyes open through the smoke, he could see many things we couldn’t. The Diamond was cut from his years in a group foster home but people used to spread crazy shit about him. He was an underground bounty hunter. He was blind up until the age of 34. The story most crazy: He was mole for the Germans. The whole time acting out of the jurisdiction of the Vatican. Getting messages over the wire from some secret faction that held meetings down in the catacombs.
The Enemy had his name legally changed from Frederico Ameche. (to “The Enemy”) What a fucking weirdo. He used to Drive a forklift around town that he had somehow stenciled to look like an evil yellow elephant. It looked totally ghetto but you try standing your ground when enormous steel tusks slowly grind closer. He wasn’t as ugly as the rest of these insane street angels and not nearly as insane so there was always one or two laughing women around when he made his moves out in the open.
The Enemy fought the Diamond in an abandoned business park outside of Atlanta. There were silos overlooking the field from the north and south and each imagined he was being watched by sentinels. The ground was scarred. Scored bare by from some long-ago blast. There used to be a tanning factory here................. (... more later)