Jumping in the Portal in Plain Sight

Author’s Note:

This story contains elements of urban violence, street slang, profanity, and culturally sensitive or degrading language. These choices are not made lightly—they reflect the author’s deep understanding of the world in which these characters live. The dialogue, tone, and rawness of the scenes are intentional, designed to authentically capture a community’s voice, its beauty, its struggle, and the contradictions it carries.

Rather than sanitize or censor, the author seeks to illuminate.

This is not exploitation. This is exposure—of truth, tension, and the portals we all step through to survive.

Once upon a time:

“I got everything on the line tryna get mine—at least you should wish me luck.”

That was the last thing I heard before it happened.

Big-ass 85-inch Samsung from Best Buy. Bright blue and yellow screen flashing like a damn prophecy. Sound so crisp it cut through the smell of burnt pizza rolls. And then—boom.

I was inside.

No, for real. Inside the show.

Big Pokie from Dem Boyz—my favorite series since Season One—was the first one to clock me. That man looked ten feet tall in person, skin glistening under warehouse lights like he’d been born in high-def. He turned around slow, grill shining, squinting like he was trying to place me.

“Damn, nigga,” he said, cocking his head. “Who are you, droppin’ down in the middle of the set like that? You stayin’, you better stay out the way. But enjoy the ride—this episode ‘bout to be ‘bout it, ‘bout it.’”

No lie, I almost fainted. Not from fear—from recognition.

This was the episode. The one where Pokie gets set up, Baby Trey flips the bricks, and Meka hits that Emmy-winning monologue. I used to quote it word-for-word while folding laundry.

And now? I was in it.

The portal had dropped me right into Season 3, Episode 7.

All because I copped that TV.

Well… the TV and the Bose surround sound subwoofer bundle. Sharon had been tight about it on the ride home from Best Buy.

“Too big,” she said. “Too loud. Too expensive. Only ghetto people need a TV this big.”

I remember gripping the steering wheel, biting my tongue.

But now?

Shit.

Now I was stepping out into other worlds. Worlds with clearer plots, more exciting arcs, better lighting. I wasn’t just watching my escape anymore.

I was the escape.

It’s on.

Nigga, we’re off to see the wizard.

It’s on.

“Shaun! Sweet Pea! I thought we agreed you’d watch that kind of stuff upstairs—not down here on that… overstated, ghetto-ass TV.”

I snapped back to reality. Shoulders forward, head bobbing in her direction.

“Ah, I’m in the middle of my show. Can it wait?”

“‘Can it wait?’ Do you even know what I just said? Are you paying attention? I asked you to watch that ghetto show upstairs—not downstairs here in the main room. Please.”

Before I could answer, the portal pulled me back.

“Nigga, why are you here? What, Big Pokie can’t hook a nigga up no more?”

“Ah, Sharon, sorry—I gotta go.”

Then I jumped all the way back through.

“Big Pokie, my dogg—I’m here because on the other side of this portal, things get way too mundane.”

“Dude, I’m not talking to you,” Pokie said, annoyed. “You just dropped in on my corner, mid-scene, like you got lines.”

He pointed to a twitchy figure in the shadows. “I’m talkin’ to this crackhead-ass nigga who showed up on my block without my money. Now I gotta handle it.”

He turned back to me. “Look. Cedric Monfree—that’s me, the actor who plays Big Pokie—don’t care why you here. Neither do the sponsors. Just hit your mark and stay out the shot. We good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’m caught up in the moment.”

“Damn right you are. Now watch the magic.”

The tension built fast.

Blamp.

Hamp.

“Oh no!”

Pip.

Pip.

Pap.

Pap.

Smoke still hanging in the air like judgment.

I blinked, watching the body twitch once… then nothing.

I knew that actor. I’d seen him before. He was on that courtroom drama—the one with the slick-talking D.A. and the crooked judge. Man got range. He stay workin’.

“Damn, Pokie. You got mad balls,” I said, not even realizing I’d spoken out loud.

Pokie didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Just said it flat, like the words weighed nothing.

“Had to do it.”

But me?

I felt it. Felt the whole moment in my chest.

This wasn’t just a script anymore.

This was real.

At least to me.

“What you gon’ do when the South Side Riders come ridin’?”

I asked it—but I already knew.

Pokie gon’ stand ten toes down. On camera. Off camera. On corners. In confessionals.

But me?

I was starting to feel the cost of watching violence like it was entertainment. Starting to wonder if this escape was just another trap dressed in surround sound.

Still…

I wasn’t ready to go back.

Not yet.

This show is ghetto—but it’s good.

I’m hooked.

“Let ‘em know Big Pokie still here. This my show. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

The portal went dark.

Then:

Cedric Monfree … Big Pokie

Jonathan Williams … Guesting as Crackhead

Until Next Week

Then:

White light exploding into my eye gate.

“Need Cash? Call 1-800-WeSponsor-BigPokie.”

I landed back home.

Shook my head. Let go of Pokie’s world.

“Hey, Sharon? Can we talk? Sharon, are you here?”

I went to the garage. Her car was gone.

On the fridge, a sticky note:

“I went to the grocery store.

I’ll bake when I’m sure that ghetto show is off and I know you’ve come back to reality.

If you need anything specific, call me or get it yourself.

Love, your wife who hates that ghetto show you jump through hoops to watch every week.”

I stopped, both feet on the floor.

I made it back through the portal.

Sharon would never know that—in plain sight—I can go in and out of worlds more exciting than the one we share.

Don’t get me wrong. I love this side of the portal. I do.

It’s just… sometimes?

A brother needs some Big Pokie and a crackhead monologue in his life.

I will say this, though—on the other side of the portal, things move fast.

Pip. Pip.

Pap. Pap.

Real fast.

Before you even figure out why you’re there.

But no worries.

I’m jumping back in next week.

Big Pokie made a mistake. He’s underestimating the South Side Riders. I saw them on another episode. They comin’. He gon’ have his hands full.

And besides, I need that cash.

I didn’t catch that 1-800 number.

“Hey Sharon—yeah babe—can you pick up some mayonnaise? We’re out.

And I wanna make a turkey sandwich… now that I’m back from the portal hiding in plain sight.”

The End