Abiy-e

Snot Boogie was a true story. From David Simon’s book “Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets” One story after another spills from Terry McLarney’s brain, his mood lightened by a night on the West Baltimore streets. A car ride through the west side never fails to have that effect on McLarney, who can roll through the ghetto remembering a strange thing that happened on this corner, a funny comment overheard down that street. On the surface, it all resembles a nightmare, but dig a little deeper and McLarney can show you the perverse eloquence of the thing, the unending inner-city comedy of crime and punishment. That corner there, for instance, the one where Snot Boogie got shot. “Snot Boogie?” asks Brown, disbelieving. “Yeah,” says McLarney. “And that’s what his friends called him.” “Nice.” McLarney laughs, then leaps into the parable of Snot Boogie, who joined the neighborhood crap game, waited for the pot to thicken, then grabbed the cash and bolted down the street only to be shot dead by one of the irate players. “So we’re interviewing the witnesses down at the office and they’re saying how Snot Boogie would always join the crap game, then run away with the pot, and that they’d finally gotten sick of it . . .” Dave Brown drives in silence, barely tracking this historical digression. “And I asked one of them, you know, I asked him why they even let Snot Boogie into the game if he always tried to run away with the money.” McLarney pauses for effect. “And?” asks Brown. “He just looked at me real bizarre,” says McLarney. “And then he says, ‘You gotta let him play . . . This is America.’ ” Brown laughs loudly. “I love that,” says McLarney. “Great story. Did it really happen?” “Fuck yes.”