A True Story ( All Around the World )
By: Mr. George D. Patnoe., Jr!
March 24, 2018
The little black boy grew up in one of America’s ghettos or in other words, slums. You must understand my dear readers that this black boy’s brain only knew the world he saw and walked in from the moment from his birth. He had never seen the outside world of white multi-millionaires who worked for their money in various ways, some legal, some illegal. He was only a boy after all. But he knew that he wanted to eat food, but not the food of the poor people that surrounded him. He also knew that he wanted to escape the absolute poverty he was living in because he had heard through the neighborhood grapevine that there was a better life outside the walls that entrapped him from seeing the outside world of a better way of living, but especially of eating food.
But the boy did see that some people in the American ghettos or slums did eat good, and those people were the drug dealers. Therefore, the boy’s only dream was to become financially rich by selling drugs and there he started his dream of eating good. The boy started working for the drug dealers until he became old enough to start his own business of making $10,000 a day, until he was making so much money that he could buy a multi-million dollar house with some very expensive cars. ( I saw the pictures of him with the house and cars, so I know it is true. ) For 17 long years the boy who was now a man was safe or so it seemed to him. Was he ever thinking about that knock on his front door, or was he always thinking about that knock on the front door?
Well, one day the knock came on a knocking and it was the FBI with a lot of special agents pointing all sorts of guns at him and his family too. Well, truth be told, they really did not knock on his front door like a neighbor might knock on your front door. No, it was more like a bang and crash through the front door as in breaking the front door down into pieces. In other words, the front door needed to be repaired and replaced. The Feds took the house and everything the drug dealer owned, except the money hidden away for survival after a possible prison sentence.
So there he was in handcuffs and in a steel cage, until he was given a nine year sentence in a federal candy cane prison, as he called it, where there was no prison walls to hold the prisoners from leaving anytime they wanted. But nobody ever left their candy cane federal prison because they all knew it was not worth the risk, even if they all had been risking their very lives every single day until they got caught in whatever crime they were doing at the moment.
I met the guy in a gas station / tuck stop while I was getting some gas and some food. We started a conversation and after I told that I write stories about people with good stories to tell, he told me his story, with pictures in his wallet in his old life. Now he drives an 18 wheeler semi-pick up truck or mac truck all around America, as free as free as he can be. Sort of anyway. He must always wonder, as the readers must wonder, if he was not born into the ghetto or slum in the first place, what life might he have had if he was born with real food in his mouth from his birth?
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