Now this is a story all about how my life got fucked up by a video-tape.
I was born in West Philadelphia. I spent most of my youth on a playground, chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool and playing some basketball outside of school.
One day, some hooligans showed up and, well, I got in a fight. Once my mother knew about it, she was fear-struck and told me that for my own protection, I was going to live with my aunt and uncle in a town called Bel-Air.
Recently, I stayed at a hotel, in which I found a video-tape labeled "The Fresh Prince of DEATH". I picked it up.
A short, black man approached me, yelling, "No picking up video-tapes in the lobby!"
I ran off with the video-tape, went to my house and played it.
It showed Will with hyper-realistic, red eyes that were crying blood. He then approached Carlton and murdered him.
It flipped-turned my life upside-down.