Letter 14 - Clinton Shoemaker

This is the fourteenth story of the book.

Inspired by Adult Swim's animated TV series The Boondocks


My name is Clinton Shoemaker. I am a twenty-five-year-old African American man from New Orleans, Louisiana. I grew up there with my grandmother Cecilia Shoemaker in a two-family house in the Black Pearl area in Uptown. I was in the custody of my grandmother because of all the chaos that I saw living with my parents and siblings. Taking care of myself was all I believed I could do. During my search for positive attention, I made friends with a fifteen-year-old African American boy named Thomas Clifton. The dysfunction that I suffered led me to live a life of addiction to cigarettes.
            Even though I got a friend who supported me in any way that he could, I couldn't think of anything but the awful mess that I brought upon himself. One day at home while grandma was talking on her phone in the kitchen, I decided to take the keys and go into her white passenger car and take it for a joy ride. Less than three minutes after successfully stealing my grandmother's car, I called Thomas about it. “Really? You took your grandmother's car?” Thomas said. “Yes. I did. Wanna go for a ride in it.” I spoke. “Um...sure.” Thomas said. “Great.” I said making an evil grin as I hanged up my phone.
            I quickly drove the car all the way to Thomas's house. Because I had no experience in driving whatsoever, I crashed into objects on the way there such as trash cans and mailboxes. When I finally got to Thomas's house in East Carollton, I stopped and parked the car right in front of the porch on the lawn. I opened the window and yelled, “Thomas!!! I'm here!!!” Thomas left the house and walked right over to the car. “Oh my God. You weren't kidding at all.” Thomas said. “Yep. Get in.” I spoke. Without thinking, Thomas quickly jumped right into the car. “Okay now what?” Thomas said. “Let me ask you something. Do you smoke cigarettes?” I said as I took out a pack of opened cigarettes. Thomas took a cigarette giving a deceptive cool attitude and said, “Yes I do.” “Right on.” I said as I put a cigarette in my mouth too and lit it with the lighter.
          While driving my grandmother's car, I continued crashing into things up with it. Thomas began to feel very uncomfortable about the ordeal making him say, “Say don't you think this is bad when you hit things?” “Let me tell you this: I don't care if I hit things because it's fun to do it.” I said as I backed up and continued driving. I continued doing my rampant driving until I noticed police cars following me with their sirens on. I noticed the flashing blue lights, so I looked at Milton and said, “Oh my God. It's the police.” “Fun.” I said as I stomped the gas pedal of the car making the car zoom. When I passed by a local park on Saint Claiborne Avenue, I made a hard turn, but the car swerved right into a parked pickup truck. Luckily for us, we were wearing seat belts. I sighed knowing that I tremendously screwed up. We both got out of the car when the police officers commanded us to. “Um...hi?” Thomas said. The police officers ran over to us with their guns out. The officers then handcuffed us and took us over to the station on Saint Broad Ave. The entire time I spent at the station, I couldn't help but keep my head down on the table in the interrogation room. Even when my grandmother came over to pick me up, I was so ashamed of myself I couldn't look anyone else in the eye. The pride of being tough and free to do whatever I wanted to do without reason made me strive for a life of evil.
             My behavior and attitude led Thomas to break the friendship that we had for each other. Thomas couldn't find it in him to get himself into any more trouble. No matter what I said, I failed to reconcile the relationship with Thomas. I began to feel like I was meant to be all alone. Through that feeling, I began to do even more unhealthy activities out on the street. I even continued to use my grandmother's car for evil things such as tossing fruits and rocks at people while driving. As I did it, I found the behavior hilarious.
             My destructive behavior led to school as well. I was doing so poorly in my classes that all my teachers gave up on doing what they could do to help me. But one day, my awful life came to a halt when I met an African American girl. That day I was pushing other boys into lockers when I heard her say, “Hey you. Stop it!!!” As I heard the girl, I stopped what I was doing, looked at her and said, “What are you going to do if I don't stop?” “I'll...I'll call the police for what you are doing?” the girl said. “Like I care about getting in trouble.” I said as I grabbed onto one of the boys by the collar. “Do you really not care about spending your entire life in prison?” the girl said. “What?” I spoke. “What you are doing is wrong. Please understand that. I'm tired of watching you doing all of this so it's about time I stopped it. Let that boy go. Don't let whatever you're facing control your decisions.” The girl said. “Don't talk to me like you know me.” I spoke. “I don't need to know you to know that two wrongs don't make a right in this world. Let him go now.” The girl said as she pulled out her phone. “I have no family. This is all I have that I can live for.” I spoke. “No. Bullying is not all you have to live for. You can do good. You can make things right again. Now please don't let me say it again. Let that boy go.” The girl said. I sighed, did what the girl told me to do and said, “I don't know how to make it right.” “Let me help you. What's your name?” the girl said. “Clinton Shoemaker.” I spoke. “It's nice to meet you, Clinton. I'm Brenda Lockhart.” Brenda said. The boys who were being intimidated by me all ran away from me. At that very moment, I started hanging around with Brenda.
            Nine months have passed since I met Brenda. My behavior had changed to a kinder nature. I had gotten so close to Brenda; I began dating her. I gave up being a fool to make things right just as Brenda hoped I would. I reconciled the relationship with my supportive grandmother. Grandma couldn't help but cry when she noticed my signs of change in my behavior. One day while Brenda and I were walking together in Saint Claiborne Avenue Park like we usually do. Feeling curious, I decided to say, “Babe can I ask you one thing?” “Sure. Go ahead.” Brenda said. “That day. The day I was picking on those boys. Why did you stop me?” Clinton said. “I did it because my brother Roy used to act like you. He didn't care about anything that he was doing until he attended the scared straight program in prison. He had to learn his lesson the hard way and gladly he's not in prison.” Brenda said. “Oh...so that's why you did it. Thank you, Brenda. I'm glad to be with you.” I spoke. “I am too. I don't want you to experience the hardships of prison.” Brenda said as she held onto my hand. “Neither do I.” I said as I hugged Brenda tightly. As I got older, I married Brenda and had a family with her. I lived to protect my children from the life I once lived as a teenager so they could have better life.