American Pastoralists

It was a summer morning and a warm breeze blew through the meadows and hedgerows. There was activity on the river bank. Rat and Mole were busy messing about in a boat on the river. As usual, their friend Toad was in an agitated mood. His bespoke Anderson & Shepherd Tweed suit was more rumpled than usual. He nervously paced back and forth, his Crockett & Jones Handgrade Belgravia suede brogues producing a clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop on the little dock. Toad was upset.

"Wuddup dawg?" asked Rat.

"Check it yo," said Toad, or T-Unit as he was known on the street. "I was jus' walkin` to dat bitch party in Compton place and was listenin` to ma ice-pod, minding my own business and that’s when these 3 niggaz went up to me trying to snatch ma pod and money and I said, “No, ah` ain’t givin` ya` my shit.” Then a hooptie passed shootin at me and that’s when they shot me in da face. I tried to hide behind a Cadillac Eldorado but a bullet got me in da face, by my cheek."

"Shit dat's whack," said Rat.

"Fo sho," said Toad. "Then some people I knew came out from an alley wid a .22 to shoot da people that tried to jack me. But they ran away and one uh da people that was wid dem was still dere so my homeys grabbed him and asked me: “Was dat him? Ya want me kill dis motherfucker right now?” I said, “No, he dunn’t do ennything, da people that tried to jack me ran away.” So my homey let him go. Then he told me: “I’ll go walkin half way wid you.” So we walked and my homey kept on telling me: “Hurry up cuz ya gots `ta go to da hospital cuz` ya be shot and stabbed.” I was feelin dizzy and ma face felt numb. I dunn't believe ah gots shot."

"Yo that was chillin," said Mole. "Doze lil bitches mad crazy."

"True dat," chimed in Rat. "Let's go ride on dem bitches."

"Yo dawgs," said Toad angrily, taken aback by his friends' presumptious remarks. "They still my homies unless they step crazy style, na meen?"