This book is to paper what Scarface was to the screen ... the ballad of a menace!
"The realest urban fiction novel ever written!"
Thug Nation Excerpt
Around the time gangs flooded the streets like mosquitoes after a good rain. Teams of misguided, military minded thugs pledged allegiance to one another, willing to die for what they felt to be sacred. Those who no longer infected the hood were residents of the prison system. Just a couple of hours into his first full day Gerald noticed several affiliates in the facility. Unlike many of them he didn't bring the bandana with him. Still the vivid images of pitchforks and devil tailed hearts covered his arms, letting everyone know the status.

Gerald stared down on the pasta goolosh compound with queasy eyes. He was actually famished but this looked worse than the county food. The apple appeared fresh though, green with the sticker on it. Perhaps he'd take a few bites of the bread, maybe a few swigs of the two percent milk. Gerald would certainly need all of his energy on the inside.

Walking nervous like a kid on the first day of junior high, Gerald searched for a spot in the cafeteria, feeling as if all eyes were on him. Several were as the inmates tried to survey his character. So far the day hadn't been too bad. Gerald ran into a couple of Folks, supposedly from his area back in Chicago. He gave that mutual respect but let it be known that he was no longer active. The most disturbing part of his morning was the fact that Pedro hadn't spoken one word. Knowing the true assassin that his Mexican foe was, Gerald watched his back with caution.

Gerald saw no need in forming any serious relationships with crews. They were all stupid enough to get themselves in the hardrock so why let the blind lead the blind? Even in that case there was still a need for acceptance on the inside. Many would be bangers were forced to prove themselves, along with others who thought they'd served enough. Gerald vowed not to let himself slip into that situation. He'd gladly perish before becoming entangled with anyone's shit.

Finally he noticed a free seat; not exactly but no one sat directly beside it. Gerald was far from the social type, even more now. He wished not to hear a damn word from anyone. If he carried out the sentence without speaking to a single soul he'd be completely content.

Before he could turn into the aisle he observed danger approaching. "Fuck." From head on marched a troublesome trio. The young man in front had a gold rag twisted around his head; a guy behind him had red rags tied around his wrists. Gerald instantly perceived them as members of the Peoples organization; what set he didn't know. They obviously had it in for him as their expressions displayed animosity.