My last name is Cordero.
So there. Nothing. I ain’t neither Mr. Wolf nor the wolf of Wall. But I could play both. And that’s part of the deal I play. The stories from the hood. You can’t come to this side of town without me. In my hood, the homies respect me. Pigeons anounce I come. They signal my entrance. Stand up mother fucker. The thing homies flip out when I come into the inside of the social club I run in town. Donde vive mi mami. La conexión con la zona lumpen de mi ciudad. Y cómo me reciben las familias. Eso es lo que va a cambiar todo de pronto. Y cómo nosotros vamos a limpiar el terreno. Con un único all in. ¿Cuántos lobos hay? ¿Cuántas ovejas?
Zootropolis lo pone sobre la mesa. Y nuestros prejuicios. The sly fox is the answer. Street wise are part of the homies in each neighborhood. And so are the class smarts geeks of the families. They are supposed to do good. They have had acces to means that take people to high level of management in all nine markets. The newest marketplace. My fund. My close list of investors. I am ready to pay. 9. The rich club. The happening place. The court. The lawyers. The IVY leaguers. The crap judges laugh about when they talk about their lousy calls. The cinical ones. Holding a talk with any prick. No matter who’s got the power in the table. The russians have their own rules. You don’t step on other peoples feet. The cities with high intensity feel know how to deal with at least nine diferent mafia from all over the place. Pick nine random nationalities. Make them believalbe. Just cast the best actors. And actually come up with good lines for your characters. The movie. Even if it is a cop movie. Sort out the entrance with the squad. Confiscate the goods. Make the cops deals. Who really runs the underground? Ain’t it the police? Really? Really? I’ll be dammned.
We are not all corrupt. Are we? Are you confortable with the operation? What’s the rist? What’s my cost? Who’s got the gun? And why should I take this? What are my options out? How do I go back to just breath. Shoot him. Hit him. Kill him. The sense of dark. Pah. Boom. When you want shit done you have to do it your self. Tha devil shoots. Boom. Then you see that you are in the devils mouth. And you just have to deal with knowing the truth of how narcotics units work in New América. The gun is on the mother fucker boss. I am in that tight possition. Is this what I signed up for? What other kid of the deal was I supposed to solve by coming into this police for? I’ve planning this all week. No rookie is going to come and fuck it up. That’s why I don’t buy into becoming a cop. Not enver in fiction. I can’t act that shit. The real dark side of the force. The rucking devil shouting. Shout. Shout. Shout. Shout. Shout. Shout. Shout. Shout. Shout. The nine scariest roars the devil ever yelled. Right there. He just yelled them at you.
What kind of power you have after that?
¡Cómeme los huevos, Maldini!
This shit is chess. It ain’t checkers.
Hard rolling. How we fight the ampa. The right to break the law. A run at the top of the game. And the shit ain’t right. But now it was going to be my shit. As the shit came down to a sudden stop.
Siguiente film: Todos los corderos.
Hasta nueve títulos de films. Y me planto en Cannes. Sin nada más. Podrían ser pelis. Podría ser peor. O me muero hoy o los mato a todos. Who’s running this shithole? How do you want it? You are now being schooled by the devil. This is what it is that goes on in the darkness. But thre is someone elses money, so the shit is real, dog. And that shit ain’t right. You knotillw. You’ve crashed. You have been fed the pill. Nobody’s ever broken it. Trafficking. Running the underworld. Making your brothers pay. I am a cop. LAPD. Those stories happened fool. Like this other 9 cop stories. Playing a player. Cash out. Out the road. Two black vans. A crew of gunmen. Nine of them. Like a quarrel in a hood. I way out. Shit that happens before you get back home.
I’ve just been thinkin.
Thinking and driving. The new drinking and driving.
I new field of study.
People work hard. And they have to give somebody an invoice. Check, please. And that day you grow. Only those nine days of the year. The rest: nope.
If you are autonomo, asist to a similar deal. Or a high paying low inconme sells. I need something to sell. Like a book. And plan my future. With a novel a day. A post a day. Where do I get more return? Can I selfpublish and should I? Can I go to the editor and say: publish this. Who the fuck is my editor? Should I even bother getting published. What if I am the new kid on the mother fucking block this year? My trip to Frankfurt’s Bookfair. No, wait. Did I say Frankfurt… I meant Guadalajara. FIL.
El último boom.
Desde un sitio distinto a Sarriá. Piches pijos, ¿saben qué? ¡Cómeme los huevos, Maldini!