The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

October 1977

Cypress, Ohio

Three black boys, all three at the age of twelve, rode their bikes down the neighborhood on a brisk, forty-five degree morning. All three boys wore heavy jackets. They were comfortable without having each of them break out into saturating sweats.

Two of the three boys had Cincinnati Bengals' thermal hats on their heads while the third wore only a black ball cap. Lanced securely on one of the handlebar's of Mike's bike was a boom box that was playing Parliament's, 'Bop Gun' in the tape deck. Light puffs of smoke came from out of their mouths every time they exhaled, laughed and carried on with one another on their way to school that early morning, just as they did every other day.

When they approached a certain neighborhood all three boys stopped just short of the corner and watched as two police cruisers pulled down the same street and stopped in front of a house.

"Man, let's go down the other way." Mike grudgingly suggested to his comrades.

At once, all three boys turned their bikes around and proceeded to ride down an alley until they came to a busy intersection.

"We can take Holmes Road all the way to school." Jerome said.

"Man, Holmes Road is too long." Mike griped. "Let's take 7th."

Once more, the boys took off down another alley that eventually led to West 7th Blvd. Once their bikes touched the street's pavement the boys immediately noticed a shift in focus as far as the quality of the neighborhood was concerned.

Granted, their own neighborhood was far from ideal, but the fact that the scenery had transformed on them so rapidly seemed to slow their pace down the empty road all the more.

They carried on and on until Mike came to a hard stop in front of one particular house to his right. Both Jerome and Brian stopped in behind their friend to see just what had caught his attention all of the sudden. The street was still asleep that morning. All that could be heard were the birds and a few vehicles from the road up ahead. Mike just sat on his bike with his feet firmly planted to the middle of the street.

"What are you looking at?" Brian asked while gawking all around.

Mike shut off his radio before pointing and asking, "Do ya'll know what happened at that crib over there?"

"Man, everybody knows what happened there." Jerome waved his hand.

"But hold up," Mike urged. "Just a couple of weeks ago, my brother was out here gettin' balled out by this one skeezer, and he saw this dude walk up in there and never come out again."

"Maybe he went out the backdoor." Brian said.

dude never came out any door. He may still be

"My aunt said that that place

Mike sat absolutely still on his bike while staring endlessly

"Man, we gotta get to

up, you African Booty Scratcher. School is only ten minutes from here." Mike retaliated. "We won't

three boys put their individual

me

"Man, we'd better get outta here before

"Man, ain't nobody gonna see us, it's too early. C'mon and

open. Before stepping inside, the boys used only their eyes

on in, man."

you, this was your

with Brian shutting the door behind them. The house was cold, smelly and dark, despite cracks of daylight that managed to seep its way inside from one corner to another. The boys cautiously plodded through the tiny living room before making their way down the hallway

bathroom was wide open. "That's where that dude was shot up." Brian nearly lost

next to the toilet. "Man, that's really messed up

real messed up. Now, let's go

Mike twisted his lips before turning around and asking, "Did ya'll know

the kitchen. "I wonder

"Who cares? Let's

"Man, don't worry; we'll only be here for a minute."

you want to leave then go ahead, I'll wait here

kitchen

to reveal a trap door. He then pulled the latch on the door and opened it. All three boys hurried to see down

what are you doin'?" Brian hollered as he watched Mike climb down the wooden ladder. But Mike never replied, he just kept on and on until he made it to the

the gravel floor they shockingly found themselves inside the basement. At only five feet and twelve inches,

seemed to remain was a Mr. Potato Head that was lying all by itself in a corner; beyond that the basement

let's go." Brian hastily remarked while turning

is

"I know," Mike marveled. "I always wanted to see inside this place. Now I can go to school and tell

"You can say that." Brian spoke, but