Yo homes, sittin' in this here cell with a dead Sylar has got me thinkin 'bout death, G. Death be a funny thing. I don't even wanna TRY to count all the many soldiers who done fall in the path of a .45. Too many, yo, too many. So, I be giving this Sylar post in honor to the leader of all the fallen, Biggie Smalls.
Yo Biggie, sometimes your words just hypnotize ME, yo. True, 2pac WAS hotter than you, but what the fat man lacked in looks, he made up for in heart. And heart was something he was full of, yo. His words touched me. It was Biggie's words who convinced me to be a soldier! A soldier in the trade of doctoring, yo. I'm like a medic to the fallen G's.
So why is it all us brothers kill each other? Crips and bloods. Sylars and Heroes. Drive-bys and brain eating. What is this world comin' to, yo? Why must we let so much blood spill in the streetz? This is not how it should be! Us brothers need to stick together, not spill each others' blood! It's because of that that our man Biggie hit the asphalt!
But I guess I can see why some of these G's do what they do. I mean, brains DO taste pretty good. In fact, I think me and the wifey'll be having some monkey brains for dinner tonight. Dizzamn is that stuff tastey!
But before any of ya'll go back having your meals, making love to your men...or women, pay some respect to the fallen. Pour a 40 ouncer on the curb for Biggie. And maybe a wine cooler for Sylar, cause, that is like his favorite drink, yo. RIP.
Big up 2 Biggie,
Hank
6 comments:
Ah, yes. Street rivalry. Such a pety and unfortunate happening in the lives of so many brothers today. One wonders why God, who could be a cockroach, mind you, would subjecate we brothers to such a horrible end. Is it destiny that brings the asphalt to a bling-emblazened soldier's face? Or is it mere coincidence, this meeting? Would one still refer to those who take up arms in a metaphorical war on society's intolerant ideals still be regarded as a true soldier if the possibity of needless death dissapated into nothingness? Or is it the destiny of a soldeir to pay the ultimate price? Could it be God the Cockroach's way of testing the soldeirness within the brother's soul? When faced with death in honor of a greater cause, do the true soldiers flee? Or do they hit the asphalt with pride and dignity? Alas, India has no asphalt, and perhaps we owe that to the lack of these figurative fighters. Where there is no soldier destined to meet with his maker at the hands of a .45, there can be no pavement for which to catch the hypothetical subject of this situation one he falls.
I feel you, Hank. He was a great man, notoriously great. I still remember March 9th of 1997. How could I forget? We were so young then, and stupid. Perhaps it was Big's death that caused us to mature so quickly. March 10th, I realized my childhood dreams came to an end. There was no more youthful innocence in my world. I was thrown headfirst into adulthood at the young age of 35. It was too soon, Hank. It was too soon!
They k1||3d h1m!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
If I say Biggie Smalls three times in front of my bathroom mirror, will Hank or Biggie Smalls show up in my bathroom? Because if either of them did, that would be soooo creepy. But really really cool at the same time.
It would be even creepier than me stalking Mohinder creepy. (Shhhh! Don't tell him! He doesn't know!)
And you're only 35, Mr. HRG? I would have put you at about 45 or so, but I guess you're really only as old as you feel. You're almost old enough to be my father! (Not really.)
~Lana
Word
I was only 35 when I lost my hero, Biggie.
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