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A Walk Around Black Heaven:
Looking for Cornbread
“That Ni**a Cornbread is no joke.” Bubba says.
“What does he do that’s so great?” I asked.
“I’m not sure, but everyone’s saying he’s the one to challenge your throne.” Bubba replies.
“What does he look like? Is he tall, fast, great shooter or ball-handler?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Where did he come from?” I ask.
“I’m not sure, maybe up north somewhere.”
“Damn ni**a, you sure don’t know sh** about a motherf**er supposed to dethrone your boy.” I say.
“Well you know where to find any real hooper from Forest City.” Bubba replies.
We plan to go to Dunbar playground in Forest City to see firsthand the deal with Cornbread. We land on what I can only describe as Black Heaven. I say that because any hood ni**a living in Small-Town Friendly die. His heaven would be a late Sunday afternoon, in the summer at the playground. Not just for the beer buds and basketball. But for the babes.
I’m talking about every flavor of chocolate one could ever imagine in their wildest dreams. The playground lawns are filled with these beauties. The best description pales compared to the live, walking with a twist in her hips, speaking…
