Feeling as though the gangs never were originally from his city anyway, he secretly held the desire to rid the city of the outsiders, whom he considered to be leeches that were there to rape his city of its riches and take control of the streets he was raised on.
Patiently waiting for the right time paid off for Dig a Hole. One day after one of the gang’s meetings, he saw one of the head members take a huge bag and place it in the back of the trunk of his Mercedes. Not quite sure how the situation was going to play out, he knew this was his opportunity to make his move, and from this point on he was all in. Thinking fast he saw one of the shorty folks; one he knew kept a banger on him and was one of the many who were from Minneapolis who looked up to him and called him Uncle. He involuntarily involved shorty into his plot.
Laying in the cut like a bandaide, Dig a Hole instructed Quarter Man as to the part he was soon to play in the scheme. Patiently they waited on the chief Maurice to come back out of the building. Their wait wasn’t long.
Dig a Hole knew that Maurice wouldn’t be alarmed by Quarter Man’s presence, mainly because at seventeen he weighed a buck twenty soaking wet with the looks of a twelve-year-old. But in his case looks were deceiving. This was a killa; a young cat with no heart or remorse for anything or anyone. He was abandoned at the age of eleven and was adopted by the streets, learning that success of his survival consisted of taking what you want. At eleven he was left at home with an empty refrigerator and a nine shot 22 automatic pistol he stole form one of his mother’s many lovers. Filled with total bitterness and the will to survive, he left his home never to return, killing his first of many victims at the age of twelve.
Seeing the gangsta in him, Dig a Hole opened both his arms and houses to the young killer. It was an act of kindness that earned Quarter Man’s loyalty for life to the man he now considered his only family.
Upon seeing Quarter Man, coming out Maurice hollered, “What’s up Shorty Folks?”
“Shit. Just waiting on my mans to come out,” Quarter Man replied.
“Who’s that?” Maurice asked, still heading towards his car.
Noticing Maurice not paying any attention to his surroundings, Dig a Hole emerged from the side of the building. Still talking to Quarter Man, Maurice opened his trunk. At this point Quarter Man pulled out the 40 Glock he had concealed in his waistband.
Speaking slowly, he told him to simply “get in the trunk.”
Walking up to him, Dig a Hole saw a slight hesitation in Maurice’s actions and immediately took control of the situation. He apprehended the pistol and smacked him upside the head saying, “Get the fuck in the trunk bitch.”
Hesitating is what cost him his life. Not one to repeat himself, Dig a Hole put one in his head and watched him slump over into the trunk.
Looking back at Quarter Man he shouted, “Hurry up and stuff the rest of the body in the trunk.” He almost gave him another dome shot when a nerve made Maurice’s leg kick back outside the trunk. Quickly putting it back inside, they hurriedly jumped into the Benz riding off, knowing their actions was going to cause an all out war, one that neither knew how they were going to win, but both were ready and willing to ride or die for their act of Bogusness.
Weeks had passed and no one seemed to know what happened to Maurice. Many had their suspicions due to the fact that the content in the trunk was ten keys of heroin, leaving many of the local dealers drugless. Mysteriously, the powerful drug started to filter back into the streets: only the distributor wasn’t the usual one who dispersed the drug. It was Dig a Hole who now controlled the flow of heroin in the city, at least for the time being.
Knowing that he had the only weight in the city he took full advantage and served it raw and damn near uncut. As a result he had every dope fiend north, south and even from St. Paul coming to his spot for their fix. The only way the other dealers were able to cop from him was to pay his prices, and they weren’t cheap. In his mind, they deserved to be treated this way because they had no problem paying the out-of-town boys the ticket they charged, so why accept less?
Now having interactions with all the different gangs, Dig a Hole took advantage of the opportunity to watch and observe the various members of the opposing groups, knowing that it would only be a matter of time before everyone put it together that he was responsible for the stolen shipment and Maurice’s death.
Recognizing this, he began to assemble his own click to not only distribute his drugs, but to literally take over the whole fucken city. After thoroughly thinking out his plans he set forth the action to make them a reality.
Because he was from Minnesota he was pretty familiar with the other people from various gangs. Already knowing the riders, he started recruiting them individually with the lure of his riches and the chance to do what they wanted, how they wanted, and to whom they wanted.
After several tests he narrowed the group down to eight people ready to chase the fast cash by all means necessary. His team of eight niggas was ready to give the streets of Minneapolis the bizness! This was the start of how eight hood niggas took over an entire city.
CHAPTER TWO
One by one they filed into a small house located on the north side of Minneapolis. The last to enter was Dig a Hole. He alone formed and molded the click. The first fifteen minutes of the meeting was bullshit talk of the robbery that they hit last night.
Interrupting the small talk, one of the older members, Zeke said, “Meeting is now in session.” That being the cue for Dig a Hole to take the floor.
Addressing the guys he asks, “Is there any news about last night’s lick?”
Quarter Man, the youngest in the fold, spoke first saying, “It’s going around that we’re responsible and word is there’s going to be some heat behind this one.”
740 interrupted saying, “I told you we should have left them hoe ass niggas stanking.” 740 was the gunslinger amongst gunslingers. His motto was simply – “kill them all.”
“Quiet down and let’s figure out how we’re going to pull this next caper off. We’ll deal with that other shit when it comes, just keep them thangs cocked,” Phat Bogus replied.
“Okay, here’s how it’s going to go down,” Dig a Hole spoke up, once again taking control of the conversation. “I want you to call KeKe. Find out if she still has that mark coming over to her crib as planned. If so, ask her the time schedule.”
Ya see, we have one female in the click who does various tasks ranging from recruiting females to knocking potential prey for us. Being how all the niggas feared us, we had to rely on the bitches for intel on the trick ass niggas who came into town.
Now KeKe, she went by KeKe to the click - she was the ride or die bitch. She had been a part of the team since day one. She was not only gansta, KeKe was sexy. Standing five-feet-eight inches, one-hundred-forty-five pounds, with long, wavy black hair which she kept done, along with her nails and perfectly manicured toes, she stayed in the latest gear. Whether it be Prada or Fendi, she rocked it like it was made for her. At age twenty-four she had seen her share of out-of-town niggas come and go, and to a newcomer coming into our city she was the prize bitch to have (or so they thought).
The crew quieted down so Sinatra could place the call to KeKe. After the third ring a sexy, enticing voice came over the phone. “Hello.”
“Yea KeKe, this Sinatra. What’s good Lil’ Momma?”
“What’s cracken my nigga?” replied KeKe.
“Dig this. We’re over at the spot going over the plan and was calling to confirm things. So is it still on for tonight? You know we’re going for the whole kit tonight baby girl, so don’t let him cancel out on ya,” Noodle explains.
“Yeah I’m already knowing. I actually just got off the phone with his soft ass and believe me all I had to do was mention to him that this here hot pussy was in need of a good touching up and it was a wrap.”
“Okay.