Eric loved hip hop. Despite the fact that he was from a white middle class background he felt it really spoke to him.
He wore baseball caps at jaunty angles. He wore American sports jerseys belonging to teams he'd never heard of. He wore his jeans uncomfortably low. He wore lots of jewellery, like he was a walking display cabinet from Ratner's.
Now he was thinking of getting one of those grills for his teeth.
"Are you sure dear?" his mother asked when he told her what he wanted.
"Fo' shizzle, bitch," he replied.
She slapped him so hard across the face that he saw stars.
He never got the grill.
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