This was probably my favorite blog that SSTG ever wrote. A true Brockton masterpiece from 2017.
I truly believe the best part of this job is that every day I wake up not knowing what is going to cross my desk. I think I’ve seen it all and then something like this completely surprises me.
I have a great story to tell you of a mythical place called Brockton and a great battle that took place in the days of old. Well, like yesterday.
This one has it all. Crack, getting done dirty, weave yanking, crack, shoe-throwing, more crack, titties and bricks!
Titties and Bricks! Titties and Bricks!
This street fight over (what I think is about crack) is just beautiful. I actually got emotional watching it.
It all starts out as just a regular day in THE WORST neighborhood in Brockton. The Stop and Gas, where this altercation took place, is the first place you learn not to go when someone takes you to the shit hole that is the city of champions. It’s on the corner of Green Street and Warren Ave.
This place is a such a fucking dangerous dump that when Fox 25 did a ZipTrip there, the news van stopped to fill the tank, AND. GOT. ROBBED.
I’m just trying to set the scene here. You need to understand that this part of the city is like Fallujah. This is normal here. It’s just rare it’s caught on video.
We’ve got Weaveisha, in the teal. We never find out what her real name is.
Newportia, the bald man-girl they keep calling “Tasha,” who sounds like she’s a year away from a back alley tracheotomy from rippin all them menthols.
Finally, we have Newportia’s side kick, Pink Biggums, named after everyone’s favorite crackhead, only dressed like she shopped the last days of the Fashion Bug going out of business sale, who may or may not be called “Jules.”
(If you can tell me who anyone in this video is you can email me or message the Turtleboy Facebook page.)
We have no idea what started this but something tells me drug deals and street cred at the wildebeest watering hole were the catalyst. “Y’all better keep mah name out yer mouf now give me dat rock.”
It begins when the two ghetto goats lock weave horns.
Newportia takes advantage of the flowing locks of Weaveisha, spins her around until her ass hits the pavement.
Weavy bounces right back up and is back to getting spun around in a move I like to call “hoodrat helicopter.”
At this point you’re not sure if Newportia is a guy or a chick. She looks like a starving Somalian boy with a pink whale tail hanging out the back of her Dots pants. She doesn’t even have her shoes all the way on.
That’s how you know she means bidnez. It’s actually pretty unbeweaveable.
The ghetto goats almost get hit by a car but no one gives a fuck. This street be theirs.
Weaveisha starts throwing punches at Newportia, gaining the upper hand with a throat tackle, and a couple of hard clocks to the back of baldy’s head.
Weaveisha is now in control. She mounts Newportia from behind like a horny steed.
Newportia sees this going down fast and she’s realized her Brockton treasure has gone missing.
“Jules, pick up my crack!” It’s right dare,” she growls.
Pink Biggums starts rapidly searching the area for the precious crack. She can’t seem to find it and that flusters Newportia. Sounds like their planned evening of scissoring in a crack-fueled love fest might be canceled. Shucks.
Sirens are heard. The fight might just be over and a stalemate drawn. That’s when our bystanders, who might also be tweaking on the rock, evaluate the situation for us. “They ain’t comin’ yet,” the crowd affirmed. “That ain’t no po-leece! That ain’t no po-leece.” It’s almost like we are dealing with thug mockingbirds. They just mimic what the other is saying.
Pink Biggums yells “You’ve got a minute Tasha.”
Yeah, take your time Newportia. The Brockton Police could give a fuck if this part of the city burns down and I don’t blame them. Good riddance. Maybe then I can drive up Legion Parkway without a nodding junkie trying to clean my windshield. #goals
Newportia, mid weave-yank, grows angry at Pink Biggums because she’s still frantically looking for the crack and still can’t find it. Priorities have changed. Now Tasha no longer cares about her beef with Weaveisha. She wants to settle up and find the crack.
“Fuck,” she man-groans. “Jules hit this bitch.”
That’s when Pink Biggums jumps in. The fight now two against one. Doing Weaveisha dirty ain’t no thang as long as the precious crack is found before the fuzz gets there.
That’s the funny part – the Brockton Police department is literally a block away. Not a single cruiser shows up. Like the whole time.
The two subsidized scissor sisters tackle Weaveisha to the ground.
Our cameraman is enthralled. “Oh shit! Oh shit! You better know who you fuckin wit next time.”
We still don’t know what Weaveisha did.
Weaveisha is pummeled to the ground which leaves the scissor sisters just enough time to run away.
She ain’t having none of that though. Weaveisha jumps up and gives chase though the Stop and Gas parking lot.
Weaveisha stops for a moment to take her sneakers off and throw both of them at the scissor sisters. Now she’s walking along the filthiest street in Brockvegas with no shoes on. I hope she’s excited about piercing her toes with a HerpAids needle because those are strewn all over this area of the city like candy after a Halloween Parade.
Weaveisha begins challenging the scissor sisters, begging for another round, chest out, arms pounding, and yelling “what’s up?!”
This is clearly a mating call. I almost expected her to take her pants off and spray the street in her urine so they knew this was her territory.
Newportia tells Pink Biggums that they just need to go. That’s when Weavisha takes Pink Buggums by the hair and lobs her in to oncoming traffic.
A group of people in a white sedan are thrilled! This wasn’t part of the safari package! They roll down the windows for a closer look at the natives in combat.
They’ve never seen a tribe war so close. Especially one over the precious smokable white jewel!
Weaveisha, finally realizing that her flowing synthetics are a liability, puts her hair up in a pony tail while dodging traffic.
Then came the moment we all knew would be here. “World Star,” the cameraman chants. “World Staaaaaaar.”
It’s the song of their people. Their time has come.
The chanter eggs Newportia on to keep the fight up but she keeps moving farther away from Weaveisha’s chase.
Newportia is now in the middle of the street, dukes up, as traffic is beeping at her. No fucks given.
Pink Biggums disappears back in to the cement jungle. Never to be seen again.
The camera crew follow suit and tag along down another street. They’ve moved in to a residential driveway.
As Weaveisha finally catches up with Newportia we hit a new level of ghetto crazy to this video.
Newportia’s itty bitty titty is just hanging all out. She’s standing in someone else’s driveway, still fighting, and one of her funbags is just chilling in broad daylight.
Weaveisha strikes, slamming Newportia in to a stone wall, she takes this time to grab the weave and the hoodrat helicopter begins again.
The homeowner has emerged and starts screaming for them to get off his property. He’s in a security uniform and he’s beside himself when Weaveisha grabs a brick from his wall to chase after Newportia. His car is right there.
He announces that he doesn’t want to call the cops but he will if they don’t leave. I can’t say I blame him. He lives in a “no snitching” shit hole and the ramifications of him calling the police would bring this to his door more so than they already are.
Ignoring him, like the animals they are, they take chase in to his side yard.
That’s when baldy grabs a brick too and darts after Weaveisha.
The guy that lives there steps in between the two of them, most likely to save his car from sudden death, and it ends with the crowd yelling “round two.”
The screen goes dark.
The camera pans over to an animated male lion laying in the grass at DW Fields park. He’s telling his young son this great tale of this magestic land of Brockton.
“We will never know what became of round two. We will never know if Newportia and Pink Biggums found their crack and spent the night slamming stink flaps under the stars. We will never find out if Weaveisha had to get her tracks glued back in or spent the night in the hospital getting powerful anti-viral medication because of her brave walk through the hypodermics. All so we could be entertained. She’s a hero,” Mufasa says to his young cub Simba.
“I’ll never forget this day. As long as I live, when I close my eyes, I will hear the faint songs of this war in my ears. “Jules, pick up my crack…. World Star….World Star..”