Fly Shit Only

**While reading this I hope you listen to track 11 of the rapper Future's most recent release, EVOL. The title of the track is Fly Shit Only. The short story was born while listening to that song. I hope you enjoy.

Marcus stood in line excited for the Black and Red Jordan Elevens. He had been waiting years for the opportunity to purchase these shoes, and like fifty other people he stood at the mall. The line was slightly tension filled, but Marcus knew the wait was worth a pair of shoes he desperately needed in his collection.

MJ was the greatest, some would call him the G.O.A.T when referencing hi splaying days but now he embodied status. The shoes said you made it, and even if Marcus couldn't afford to keep his lights on after this purchase it didn't bother him much.

"Imma be stuntin' on y'all niggas when I pick these up," he told his friend Ben the day before. Ben had been extremely jealous since the first time Marcus mentioned getting them. Ben too had entered the Foot Locker raffle, but like so many others his number hadn't been called. So Ben stewed in his jealousy, wishing he could cop the coveted J's alongside the young man he called his 'nigga.'

It wasn't fair, Marcus had all the fly shit. He had the newest color ways of all the Nikes, so many J's he had yet to wear them all, and every time Ben saw his shoe collection he looked on in envy.

Ben was privy to most of the happenings in Marcus' life, but was unaware that he sold drugs and often times himself to afford these luxuries. He saw the fruits but was never exposed to the sacrifice.

Marcus didn't view himself as a homosexual, but only sold his body as a means to an end, to get the best shoes on their release date.

As Marcus stood in the frigid line, rocking back and forth searching for warmth, his anticipation grew.

"Man, these about to be hard, nigga," Marcus told himself.

When they were finally granted entrance into the mall and then into Foot Locker, Marcus proudly made his purchase. Sure his money was earned legally but the Breds were worth his sacrifice.

He walked from the mall with his head held high and was ready to rub the shoes in Ben's face. When he got back to his car, far away from the others, he removed his keys from his pocket. Before he could his unlock on the remote a voice boomed from behind him.

"The shoes nigga. I know you got them Breds, bruh."

Marcus turned and stood facing a masked man and a gun.

"What? Come on nigga I just got these," Marcus said attempting to bargain.

"Yeah nigga, I know. You ready to die for that fly shit?"

Before Marcus could respond two shots rang out and he laid facing the sky. As his life slowly slipped from his body the murderer ran to his car and sped away. When he felt he was at a safe distance he removed his mask, and looked to the box sitting on his passenger seat and smiled. When he returned home he removed the shoes from the box. As he did he caught a glimpse of a picture sitting on his mantle. There sat a still shot of him and his nigga Marcus.