kitteh citteh

“There’s nothing up here, McNutkins! It’s fucking empty… no packages, no burners. We wasted all that time waitin’ on chain-of-fucking-command for a search warrant, and gave Spanky-Bell and his crew plenty of time to clear out this stash-house, goddammit. We’re up against the clock, time’s runnin out on our wires, and I swear to fucking christ that the Deputy Commish is cock-blocking our case. Motherfucker!” - Det. Spank

Happy V-day, shitbirds! xo Spanky & Nutkins

Proposition Spanky collapsed to the floor. His nephew, Cheesy Nutkins, had suddenly just pistol-whipped the back of his big, fat head.

“Ain’t nothin personal, Unc, but I been thinking- I wanna control the East side now. And being that you ain’t the type to, you know, voluntarily retire… this is how is has to be.”

“Sheeeeeeeit, son,” Prop Spanky managed to whisper, “You ponderin’ got nothing to dewwwww with it. You’re just plain bad…never respecting the rules, but I put up with yewwww cause you were my bloo-” BOOM!

Cheesy Nutkins finally pulled the trigger. “Man, fuck your old-school rules, Spank. This is my time now. Old timers like you got no place here, so now you gotta get got.”

This wasn’t the first time Wee-Nuts ended up in Jessup carrying weight for his crew like a good soldier. But something in him snapped- he got word that his son Spankmond joined the Model UN team at school.

He decided to bust out of jail on his own- because no po-po, no loud-ass baby mama, and no bump of cash was gonna keep him from seeing that boy debate some motherfuckin current events like a champ. Bet that.

Some youngsters try to stay out of the game, keeping a distance from the corners and the hustlers. But the newest danger on the street are red tops disguised as sweets. The hoppers call out from the corners, “SPACE CHOCOLATE! GET YOUR SPACE CHOCOLATE HERE!”

Ain’t nobody safe from temptation in the citteh. You see it everyday…these kids go from clean students one minute to fiendin’ space chocolate zombies in the goddamned next.

“Don’t you see what the Avon Spanksdale crew is doing, people? He’s cleaning house before anybody flips. There’d be no snitching if there wasn’t new game to snitch on- which explains all these new bodies all over the West side. But we can nail him if we just follow the money! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to my arts & crafts station- I’m carving wood fruit pieces for my hot young stripper girlfriend.” - Detective Nutster Freamon

Detective McNutkins paused and waited for the Sergeant’s reaction. Maybe he didn’t hear what he said… Spanksman sometimes purposely chewed really loud to tune him out.

“Did you hear me, Sarge? I juked the homicide files, and maybe faked a few crime scenes… thing is, that’s how we’ll keep the wires up! If you just give me some more ti-“

“JESUS H CHRIST MARY MOTHER AND JOSEPH I’M NOT DEAF, SHITBIRD! You better be pulling my leg right now, Detective. Or so help me god, I’m about to put you on some scarecrow watch in the boonies while I blow the Deputy Commish until he finally fires your narrow Irish ass, you fucking nightmare pain in my scrotes!” - Squad Sergeant Spanksman

“Nah, you’re not hearin’ me, son. I’m tired. Can’t you see that? The game’s not in me no more, maybe I’m just too old. I wanna be a citizen now…you know, maybe become a boxing professor, mentor some kids and shit.” -Nutty

It was a fuckin ambush. Nutmar and his man Spanky came to avenge a friend’s murder- only to find soldier’s from the Snoopy crew waiting for them. Nutmar took a quick last look at his dead friend then jumped off the ledge of the building like a motherfuckin flying squirrel. He made it out safe, but was shook up bad. The game was catching up on him fast- and most all his peoples were now dead.

“Look at my hand, kid. FIVE!  I need at least five fuckin sources for your story. All your contacts can’t be phantoms all the time, alight? I know you got a hard-on for a Pulitzer, but if you’re gonna try and run this fantastical Hunter S. Thompson shit on me, in a story about Druid Hill’s garbage collection trucks- you need to know it looks suspect. Do I look like fucking Judith Miller, kid?” - Gus Nuts, Baltimore Sun’s  City Desk Editor

Spanky Barksdale looked at Nutkins-Bell through the prison visitor’s glass. He trusted Nuts, that was his top captain- but he didn’t appreciate having his position questioned.

“You serious right now? You think I don’t control what’s going on from here? Nuts- my word here is the same as it is out there! I’m a soldier in here like you a soldier out there. Whether I’m in Jessup or motherfuckin’ Orlando’s getting a lapdance- you’re gonna do what I say, you feel meh? Come on, now! Sheeeeit… so what else is new? You bring me some lake trout?”

Young Nutkins had to face the facts: the game finally done caught up with him. He thought he could outsmart the Spanky Crew, wear a wire for po-po, and help give up Spanky’s stash house. Nutkins thought he was being a clever businessman, but now he’s about to take a one way trip to the bottom of the Baltimore Harbor, courtesy of the H.M.S. Spanky. You gotta play right or you’re gonna get played in this citteh.

“Fuuuuuck, motherfuck…McNutkins! Oh, jesuschrist my head. McNutkins! The fuck did you go to? Bitch get over here and help me up. Fuck. The fuck… are we still at Kavenaugh’s! Oh- oh shit I’m gonna be sick. Shit. sick… it’s coming. MCNUTKINS! Am I upside down? I don’t…wait, man, wait. Look at all this string. The fuck is there all this string and wires here for? Shit, am I already dead? Ok, ok… I’m good. McNutkins- call my wife, you pencil-dick Irish leprechaun motherfucker, uhhhhhhhhh.”- Detective Spank

“Always look a hustlin’ motherfucker in the eye when you shake hands, son.  You go to your parlez, and you make our needs known. It’s about taking control, see? Like sometimes, just to shake shit up, I might shoot one of their peoples in the knee in the middle of our conversation, just to fuck with them. Then they gets all “What the fuck?! Why’d you do that for??” and I’ll be all, “Yo, I’m crazzzzzzyyyyy, don’t mess!” Now grown-ass adult motherfuckers are scared of me, and that’s a good thing. Sheeeeeeeeeiiiit, fear is my weapon of choice, son, and it should be yours tewwww.” -Proposition Spanky  

Avon Nutsdale and Spanky Bell had been at the stash house all morning, coordinating the re-ups, strategizin’ about how to get the Greek back after that last shitty G-pack his peoples tried to pass off, and the good ol’ days when they were still living in the towers, just a couple of green baby hoppers with big dreams. But then they heard a knock at the door… The fuck was that? Nobody knew about this stash spot.

“Yo, grab your chrome,” Spanky Bell advised quietly to Nutsdale, “This shit don’t feel right. Get low, get on your burner and crew-up, I got this.”