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Story listed as: Fiction For Adults | Theme: General Interest | Subject: Ethics / Morality | Published here : 01/05/2017
Somewhere On Some Street, USA 
By Eddie Palmon
Born 1951, M, from Rocky Mount / NC, United States
Somewhere On Some Street, USA
SOMEWHERE ON Some Street, USA ~~By Eddie T.

It is 8:pm, and the sun has been asleep for a couple of hours....

On the stoop of a popular dingy-looking little hangout house with dirty windows, wearing dingy-looking sheets concealing the contents of a dingy living room behind it, dances a girl of about 6-years old. She is wearing vice-tight see-through white shorts that smother the flesh and cling front and back. A thin veil covers her top, and she is pumping her money-maker in unison to the beat and dirty lyrics of Khia's “My Neck, My Back (Lick It)", totally inappropriate lyrics for any child to be listening to, let alone dancing suggestively to.

She is wearing no shoes. Her hair is inexcusably unkempt, giving her the look of a ghetto Kewpie doll. The girl's mocha complexion is ashy, and as dingy as the shorts that haven't seen bleach in some time, but no one cares.

She is being cheered on by a very young woman who is her mother, her teacher and role model. Mom is dressed, or rather, undressed, in skin-tight, thin, dirty-white shorts that reveal, underneath, flame-red panties--or rather, a flame-red thong. This, too, is what her little one is wearing. Mom is sporting a thin band around her top, but her gear under it is prominently on display, as she doesn't have the desire to cradle the puppies in a bra.

This filthy display by a baby captures the approval of all those around her, and soon more join the little crowd, enthusiastically egging the little dancer on. Many, both male and female, capture the display on the phones for perpetuity (Facebook, Youtube--the like). Oh how proud mama seems, beaming ear to ear, as she quickly empties the contents of her beer can into herself, dropping the emptied can at her feet. Mom yells at the window with the dirty sheet for her live-in boyfriend, who is not the girl's father.

"Michael! Michael! come see Tanisha! Go, girl!" she shouts, and the girl revs up the dirty with a frontal, undulating move that exactly mocks sex simulation, while she looks up at Michael, who nods and smiles approvingly. Encouragement is good; sometimes, it isn't. Michael ducks back in the house to pack more weed. It's a busy day today, and he's nearly ready to hit the street.

Mama's remark is picked up by the growing crowd, and they cheer, louder and louder: Go, girl! Go, girl! Go, girl! Go... A few quarters are tossed at her feet, and the little one picks them up, and smiles.Yes, angel, they will pay you. Mom calls it your money-maker. It's just that easy. Isn't it, Mom?
Question, Mom: does Michael babysit her when you aren't home? Oh, really? And how was YOUR childhood?

Two blocks around the corner, there seems to be a ruckus. It's a fight. Let's zone in on it...

Two girls are going at it, fighting like boys. They are no older than 13 or so. One of the girls have her breasts exposed, but undaunted, unabashed, continues pummeling her foe. Topless is able to rip the other girl's blouse from her bra-less top, giving the guys in attendance more young flesh to ogle besides her own. The fight soon ends with the mother of one, grabbing the girl by her disheveled hair, and pulling her into her home.

After one mom stops the show, the other mom is ready to kick some tail herself. She whips in on her daughter who was on the losing end, not caring that her daughter's beasts are still out there for the spectators to see, and soundly whips her behind for losing to the other girl. Yes, there are rules, and there are consequences in breaking the rules: YOU win the fight at ALL cost! Don't be comin' back home with your ass whipped, or you'll get another butt whippin'! You ain't gonna embarrass me. Yea, mom, we get you... No mom needs THAT kind of embarrassment. We got you...

Show's over dudes; no more breasts to ogle at. Maybe you'll get more later on tonight. Meanwhile, enjoy the reruns on those phones with all the gory footage captured for your private enjoyment...

We find young Allen, 9-years old, a "pretty boy", with eyes that dart nervously about, with quick, short head movements parroting that of a sparrow, asking his mom for fifty-cents to share a bag of chips with his little sister. "M-----f----- (wrong word, Mom!), you think I'm made of money? Boy, I'm tired you and your lil sister always begging me for stuff. I ain't even hardly got the damn rent money together yet, and you messin' wit me 'bout some damn fifty-cents! Get yo' faggoty ass out my face, boy!"

Money seems to magically appear for mom's weed, and beer, though...

"Yo big sis know how to make some money. Take your li'l sissy self and ask her. She around the block some damn place. And tell her to send a few dollars. And since your little sissy tail wanna be so girly, learn how to make your own money! You think I don't know you be hanging with those nasty boys, doing hell knows what? Make 'em pay, like your sister do! Get out my face!"

Yes, mom, we know frustration breeds contempt for one's situation, and no one is immune from being hurt by the spillover you can't contain--including the children...

It's 1:32 am. Shots disturb the night. Two lie dead. Teenagers. Boys who have lost hopes of ever leaving their situation for better. There were no incentives held out to them when they were alive. So what were they to do to raise themselves above the ditches they had to navigate? In a brotherhood, numbers mean strength, and where there is strength there is easy money to be made, sometimes at the ultimate price. Such is the life of a gang member. Where was a strong male figure when needed? In jail? Jumping from woman to woman? Where was mother-love? Mom's got her own demons. Let's not even go there...

Our observer has had enough. He feels the harsh reality of those caught in the cycle of perpetuation: Babies raising babies. Those young parents with no education and no inclination to get one, have also, in many cases, been raised by ignorance. This cycle of the destruction of family values, and rejection of moral decency, and a soul devoid of Christian love, will continue to churn out young people who have a slim chance at saving themselves. For if one does not taste, early on, constant praise, approval and love, and the want for better, he will become the adult clone of his parent(s), and resign himself to their lot in life.

There is a better way. The key to surviving a less than ideal childhood is a well-rounded education. Parents are the key to implementing, early on, the love of reading and learning. Then, perhaps, change can make its way into the bloodline, altering the way many choose to live their lives. ~~Eddie

NOTE: These are not composites of actual events. But, we know it happens everyday...
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