Was it 12 or 12:03? My Eyes were still blurry Couldn’t even make out the last digits on the alarm and All I kept hearing was the ringing. This Ring uncommon place This ringtone screaming for me to pick up This ringtone so very much classic thunder rolled with volts of lightning Screaming somethings bad ahead. And there it was the cold black phone and This call that I would’ve loved to been collect So I could’ve just pressed 2 and canceled, But no I accepted, Said,” Hello.” A voice on the other end vibrating into the speaker Saying,” Tiff got raped.” All I could say was, “come again.” Cause I needed a replay on my ears. So for the next thirty seconds I let the words broadcast Run their course “She got raped.” “She got raped.” Went over and over again in my mind like wet clothes tumbling in a dryer. These three words soon began drying out Gaining comprehension and meaning to me Soon afterwards we pause in a moment a silence for one of my own. For my hood blood because we’re souls like brother and sista It abruptly ends though with the receiver saying, “ He works with her what we gon do.” I reply, “ You know remember what we do on the field when the other teams scores on us.” The speaker says, “Yeah, We answer back. With that I grab my championship ring in all its glory and began to wrap it with the white athletic tape on my dresser along with the rest of my knuckles. Before I put down the phone I say pick me up in ten minutes. As I sit on the bed I began to understand why Bruce Banner didn’t want this. Why he didn’t wan’t these viper veins slithering all over his arms. Why he didn’t wan’t his capillaries exploding bloodworks in the white skies of his eyes. It was because he couldn’t control it and somebody was bound to get hurt, but perhaps it was too late for me because I was beginning to turn. There was nothing left to stop me. The horn outside was blowing and I was going. Minutes later were in the parking lot. We see him exiting the front doors at 1:10 store closing hour. I look at my partner and say,” How is she?” He lowers his head replying, “She says doesn’t remember anything!” I put my hand on the door handle and look back across the seat at him and say, Well I guess we make this a night to remember! I can see that look in his eyes. That same look just before kickoff at home on the forty yard line. Its the killer instinct glowing inside. Its what we’ve practiced for years on the field never to be taken off the field, but at times like this justice is paid for with sin and injustice. So we slam the doors behind us and leave the car running because its overtime And we have no choice but to win because our sista has lost enough already. So as they say, “Let the Games Begin!” Because It’s Kickoff time literally!