Ty'Grease's Jungle

Chapter 1

As a ray of sunlight shone through his cracked window, Ty'Grease Martin Brown stirred on his bare mattress. He sluggishly stood up and walked to his cracked mirror to address his appearance. It seemed every day that he was a darker shade of dark. His dreadlocks reached down to his cheeks and his nose was wider than a flatbed hauling an even wider flatbed. He picked up a protractor off the ground and assessed the angle of his lining.

"Ight, ight, dis shit on point," Ty'Grease shouted to himself through a set of yellow teeth.

He Crip walked over to his closet and opened the door, lying inside rested ninety-six pairs of shoes. Ty'Grease's blood turned to ice. There was a speck of dust the size of an atom on one of his shoes. Tears streamed from his eyes. Ty'Grease knew deep down that if he didn't burn those shoes that he'd not only contaminate the rest of them, but he'd also be humiliated if he ever showed his feet in public.

Ty'Grease slowly picked them up, careful not to allow the dust to fall to his other shoes, and set them in a rusted barrel in the corner of the room. He tore one of his dreadlocks off and struck it like a match. The grease covering it quickly ignited and he dropped it in the barrel. He went back to his closet and put on a pair of solid white shoes. He looked around his room for clothes to wear but quickly realized he had none.

"Man I gotta remember moms to steal me some," he yelled for no apparent reason.

He walked down the stairs of the townhouse towards the kitchen.

"Moms, Dads?" He bellowed, "Oh wait shit I ain't gotta dad."

Resting on the table rested a resting note reading, "Ty'Grease, I'm out trapping right now, I'll see you later tonight." Ty'Grease disregarded the note, seeing as he couldn't read. He grabbed a rotting banana off the counter and set out the door, wearing the same clothes as he had for the past three weeks. Once outside, the enticing aroma of the slums ensnared his olfactory senses.

"Dayum," he yelled, having caught something peculiar. "Somethin' smell like chicken!"

As he said this, a man coated in flames burst out of a nearby house. Ty'Grease continued his journey in the exact opposite direction of the nearest school building. As he walked along the trash ridden street, a man who was darker than the darkest night howled to him from a nearby corner.

"Well sheeeeeeeeeeit, look who come 'round. Say, boy, lemme hold a dolla'", the man spit out, drawing up the sunlight with his mere presence. Waiting for Ty'Grease's response, he lifted an unidentifiable bottle to his mouth and took a sip.

Ty'Grease squinted his big, brown eyes at the man. His hair was nappy and his eyes bloodshot. Ty'Grease did a little jig, brushed his dreadlocks back, and wiped off his shoes. The awkward pause between their words left the man looking around, waiting for an answer. Ty'Grease maintained his movements for what felt like hours to the man. Finally, he locked eyes with the man and unfurled his lips.

"No," Ty'Grease answered. He then left the shaky man from the corner and continued his journey to what would be seven miles in the opposite direction of a police station.

As Ty'Grease walked, he noticed something very peculiar about his surroundings. As he turned a corner, everything seemed to have turned blue. The houses were blue, the cars were blue, the graffiti on the wall was blue- it was as if a blueberry sneezed on the entire area. He knew this wasn't a good sign. Looking down at his jeans, a lone red bandana hung from his pocket.

A pack of men sprung from the surrounding ghetto. Like their surroundings, they too were blue. They wore blue track suits, blue shoes, blue sunglasses, and topped it all off with blue bandanas tied over their mouths. The biggest, darkest one stepped up to Ty'Grease.