John Dickson - Rosebudd the American Pimp Pt 2

A REAL FLY PUBLISHING

This book is dedicated to all the pimps I met, and to the hos I have pimped on throughout my career.

Theres only one editor I could have trust to edit the personal account of my life. Thank you, Duncan Elkinson for your excellence.

All the characters portrayed in this book were real live PimPs and stomp down hos. Some of them have passed on to the other side of the fence. To them, I say Rest In Peace and to all of my other friends I mentioned in my story, stay up.

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition April 2018

Real Fly Publishing

2109 Sun Ave #A

N. Las Vegas, Nv 89030

Email:

www.askrosebudd.com

myspace.com/rosebuddbitterdose

Copyright January 2000

ISBN: 9781543933482

The Decision

I learned as a youth selling drugs how to avoid the law, but in the Game I learned you cannot expect to avoid the law. As much as the Game requires you to be on front-street, it is more likely the police will want to stop you to see who you are. I f you make the right impression on them, most times you have nothing to worry about. I also learned in just about every major city, the police dont really mess with you when they know you are really PimPin . Just dont ride dirty.

My retirement had not a thing to do with all the dangerous things you hear about that goes on in the streets . I didnt fall victim to any kind of violence, or drugs, or jail, or any of the normal career enders that we are used to hearing about. I did nt find God, nor did I experience any mental breakdown, or any loss of courage that changed my thought process and made me leave the Game.

My reasons for leaving the Game are much deeper than that thing you want to think it is . My reasons go back to my childhood years and the surprising thing is, nothing brought it on. Absolutely nothing happened to make me leave. There were no accidents, or some kind of an epiphany of any sort. There were no close calls with death that made me suddenly wake up. There was nothing but my desire to do something different, that prompt me to make that decision.

What many of you just do not understand about the kind of man I am-is that it wasnt then and still isnt simply about the money with me. I believe if you are a true gentleman of the Game to the heart, you will want to represent realness in all you do. I started slipping, which made me begin to slack on hitting the bricks. That was the first sign that I was getting ready to leave the Game. I began to slow down on wanting to hit the streets and see what a brother could see. Thats not representing realness.

If you want to prosper in the Game, you must do and enjoy doing all the things a man of that nature has to do. Hitting the streets every night has many benefits, but mainly you do it so that you can stay up on the life you lead. When you find yourself having to force yourself to do what is necessary, you should immediately check yourself. I did nt check myself and it went further, until I literally began staying home on the computer. I only wanted to do own my thing which more and more had become writing.

My decision to leave the Game had a lot to do with how I perceived myself as a person. I never felt that I was limited to what I did, or could do in my life . Nothing, truly described me and my abilities. I always thought of myself as a thinker, who could think my way in or out of any situation I faced. One of the great benefits of being a thinker, I learned early in my street career to stay as far away from trouble as possible.

I didnt think I was above the law, or better than everyone else. I simply was sharper than most and not afraid to be afraid of the unknown . I didnt fall in love with one of my hoes and want to marry her and take her out of the hoeing. I never saw the lifestyle I led in any way as a bad thing, or a negative in any fashion; but I did know my upbringing was better than that and for some crazy reason, I thought I owed it to my mother to show her I could be that son she used to give compliments for being so smart.

There was one thing my mother absolutely adored about me and as far as Im concerned, she couldnt compliment me enough on it . T hat was the way I took full responsibility for my youngest daughter. The first time I brought her home to meet her grandmother, she was about 3 months old and my mother was so grateful to me for naming her Lena Mae, after her. My brother named his son Clinton Dickson III after our father, so I felt my mother deserved the same.

Later when I moved in with her and began working to take

care of Lena, my mother took pride in the way I wanted all of the responsibility for raising my girl. She over heard me tell my sister several times I would do it. My mother also knew I would get rid of a girlfriend if she tried to tell me something about raising Lena. My parents raised seven responsible male adults. When my brother Gipsos wife left him and their kids, he raised his kids on his own, also.

Neither one of us had that welfare mentality and we both accepted it was on us to make sure we represented what our parents instilled in all of their male children. We never saw our parents depend on the state and they had to raise twelve kids on my fathers income. Momma was very thrifty and her gift of being able to bake brought a few extra bucks in, but it was her skill at making quilts, that really paid off for her.

She used to see how close I was to my daughter and one day she said, Son, I can see you love Lena, but it aint g ood to be that close to her. If something happens to her , you might not be able to go on and live afterwards.

I thought that was nonsense, but she was right. I dont know what I would do if something happened to either one of my girls; but I did know I would nt be right. Her praising me made me try even harder to follow in my fathers footsteps as a responsible father. Not one of my siblings can remember when my father did not step up and take care of all twelve of us, and an aunt.

My father had already passed years earlier, but he knew all about me and like I said, he was quite proud of the way I handled myself. My mother was also quite proud of me, but for different reasons. She was proud of the fact that I was so smart as a youngster. There was nothing she could need that I couldnt find , or answer. Whenever she was adding some figures for our budget, or counting the money she made from a rummage sale, she would yell out to me for an answer and Id do it in my head. I never nee ded paper to write on.

She used to always say, Johnny gon be somebody. Hes so apt.

I was a pretty smart dude as a young man and still possess those qu alities today. In truth, my mother wanted nothing but for me to be an upstanding citizen and after I proved that I could be one of the best PimPs that ever PimPed, I began to think of making that change. I wasnt ashamed of whom I had become, but I tried to downplay it whenever I came home to see her.

The initial thought to get out of the Game was frightening for me . When I said that to myself for the first time, I was not prepared for how it would make me feel. I was the one and only Rosebudd Bitterdose, who had blazed a trail across the United States and emblazoned on everyone in the Games mind, that I was the shit. The thought of giving that up made me feel for the first time in my life, vulnerable, or insecure .

Most of you reading this probably wont understand what Im going to say, but you have to consider that I had never loss anything important to me, since I began that life. I won and never released the pole position, in a race that would last for thirty years. Giving this up was like Popeye going cold turkey on his spinach, or the Amazing Spider Man giving up his spider webs, or any super hero giving up their super powers.