How about this - and this is a true story, on everything for real- Sorry for the long read, but it all pertains to the story and wouldn't make sense if I didn't fully explain it. It's a funny story, but not really. Everyone usually laughs but it still makes me sick till this day.
Before my dad passed away he used to cop with a good friend of his in camden all the time (funny how fast forward a few years now I'm copping as well in camden which is where this story takes place) We'll call my dad's friend "John".
So my dad stopped using for a few years after I hit age 18 or 20. He knew I used painkillers but always told me to stay away from dope. I did for awhile, but nothing lasts forever right? So after he passes away I start copping in camden myself. I end up getting my dads white cutlass supreme passed down to me (you can't miss it, the grill and front end looked like no other car on the road) my dad used to use this car to go cop in camden all the time. turns out one of the last time he copped, he was with his friend "John". John tells my father "When we get up to the block, leave the car in drive and be ready to pull off" Turns out that john had a $20 in his hand rollled up with singles in the middle. He asked the dealer for 2 bundles. The guy leans in the car, puts the 2 bundles out and asks for money. John wedges his fingers in the guys hand, pulls out the 2 bundles and yells to my father to drive. They get away with the dope with 6 or 7 people chasing on foot.
Fast forward 5 years, I end up with the cutlass and see john walking down the street obviously on his way to camden. I tell him that I'm going to cop, he tells me he is as well. I've been dealing with an older guy, tell him that it's great stuff, the guy runs a block, and we can be in and out. We get there, I get out talk to my guy and john decides he's gonna hop out to supervise this situation (which I didn't need him to, he's a scrawny little guy and I was built like a mack truck at the time) he gets out and my dealer says to him "You know what, lemme deal wit your dude over here, I dnno who he is, I wanna see what he's about" which should have been a light bulb in my head. I said fine, I grabbed my bundle and john was going to get his own from the guy. Turns out this was the guy he beat 5 years prior and the guy never forgot his face. I guess my dealer assumed I wasn't my fathers son, or maybe I bought the car, I dunno I never saw him again after what happens next:
John tells me leave him there, he'll walk back after getting his stuff, he has to grab other shit down there as well. I say fine no problem. I am just pulling off I look in my rear view and I see what looks to be my dealer grabbing Johns junk (and by junk I mean his dick) - BANG! - turns out my dealer shot one of john's nuts off and blew the bottom half of his left ass cheek to bits with a revolver. I stop to turn the car around, but by the time I stop everyone on the street has already surrounded john on the ground- I decide best if I drive away since everyone is now pooling around the guy (and I knew someone would call the cops) I talk to my fathers friend and find out what happened a day later and said john said he wasn't going to call the cops. The camden police never followed up.
I wasn't there, I didn't see it up close, but I watched it happen. I actually threw up on the ride home thinking that he got shot and what my father would think of me leaving. Then I found out he lost his left ball and I still regret the situation every day since. He's fine though, saw him a few weeks ago and he said nothing about it. His street name is now "Blanks" - I shit you not. It's because everyone assumes he shoots "Blanks" and has nothin hangin now.
100% true story....
