THE DREADLOCK POSSE

My first experience with a posse, aside from playing “good guys – bad guysâ€? when I was a young child, was in south Florida.

We managed to scrape together about ten grand, and headed out to cop some Jamaican weed. We thought our efforts would more than pay for the foray, and we would be in some good smoke for the foreseeable future.

It didn’t turn out that way.

It was about 10:30 pm., on a moonless night, when we pulled down a long and curving driveway to a dimly lit house. Our connection, who was riding shotgun, said, “Be cool Mon, I’ll be right back, and got out of the car. Side note: none of us were armed, which was either good, or bad, depending on how you look at it.

The next thing I recall is a bunch of dread locked motherfuckers coming out of the bushes, opening all four doors of the car, and dragging our asses out. I remember clearly, they all had .45’s, and white eyes. They flashed ‘em, put ‘em to the back of our necks, and slung us all to the ground, and told us to lay on our bellies with our hands behind our backs. I’ll admit it; I was fucking scared.

They then tied all of our hands together with boat rope (one sheet in a long string), and emptied all of our pockets. They took all the cash, but left all of our ID’s (Driver’s Licenses, Passports, etc.), which was smart because there would be no Federal or State records for replacement. How did you lose your passport? Oh, I was robbed during a drug deal.

The last thing we heard before the cars sped off into the night was, “everything is cool, we just want the money, Mon.â€?

I was able to slink out of my knots first, and untied everyone else.

We were lucky.