New Orleans, Louisiana has always been considered one of America’s great cultural hubs. One of the final vestiges of a genuinely rich, and tangible history of North America. From it’s ethnically cosmopolitan demographics, to its world renowned art scene and cuisine, New Orleans has been a mecca of tourism and affluent snobbery for decades. But that ain’t all of New Orleans.

Like the gorgeous, white-rimmed magnolia blooms for which the state is known, the flower of New Orleans rests on the brown, jaggy and oft overlooked branches from which it grows. Without these branches, the “City That Care Forgot” would've bore no such fruits of ease, making the appeal of such a place but an accidental irony. Just like a care that forgets, or a white bloom on a brown branch. The branches that form from stories like this one, during the autumn of ninety-six, in New Orleans 3rd Ward.

The story of Thias Watts...

“Christ.”

Teddy Guidry muttered while turning the wheel from Lafayette Ave. into the CJ Peete Projects, better known as Magnolia.



He’d just spotted something unsavory, or unfortunate for his predicament. The mother of his young passenger. She was posted under the canopy of the common trick building. A four-story project house, identical to the other forty in this massive government housing property. This one sat nearest the main road, and served as Magnolia’s red light district.

Teddy crept his old dragnet looking Chevy Caprice along the sidewalk, a bead or two of sweat dripping across the aged scar on his cheek and onto his collar. His nerves were being tested. Teddys an older, handsome white man, and doesn’t appear like someone who would have business in the projects.

But Teddy knew Magnolia well, and Magnolia knew Teddy. After a tour in Vietnam, he became a detective for the New Orleans Police assigned to the 3rd Ward in the mid sixties. And after retiring he now coaches every sport at the Thomy Lafon Middle School that sits in Magnolia. That’s where Teddy met his passenger, the fourteen year old Thias Watts many years ago.

“What are you doing.” Thias pressed, watching as Teddy popped the transmission into reverse. ”Uh…” Teddy evades, “I forgot we needed to get you sized for new cleats,”

“You just ain’t want me to see Momma.”

Thias was right, his mentor Teddy who had been like a father to him since the second grade, was doing everything he could to keep Thias disassociated with the brutality of the projects. Finding it harder and hard to keep the branches pulled back and the magnolia flowers in full view.

“Not like this…”

Dominique Watts, a tall and frail-looking Haitian woman with bruises on her arms. She stalks Teddy’s vehicle with red and sunken eyes, behind a long, ashy cigarette. Though she was relatively young, thirty-five, and in another time quite courtly, Dominique had been wilted by life in Magnolia. In Magnolia, murder, drug-dealing, prostitution and gang-banging wasn’t a new phenomena from the eighties and nineties, it was generational, and Niquie as everyone called her, wore wounds without choice.

“She be like this every night, Teddy.”

Teddy watched Niquie, gnawing a chunk of his thumbnail into shape as she shuffled towards them. An irked look on her face, her arms are folded tight with her steps.

“Thought she was cutting that stuff out.”

“You know how it be, them Birdies be chirping all night.”

Thias said in regards to the gang that his mother tricks for.

“You stay away from those boys, do you understand me?”

“Yessir.”

Niquie, keeping her arms folded, leans down into Teddy’s window,

“Thought you was keepin’ em’, Ted.” she contested with a sharp, quiet tone.

“I can’t tonight. I thought you were done…”

He looks over to the project stoop from that Niquie just left to see some of Birdie Boys emerge from the outdoor halls of the complex. They’re meadled in black bandannas and mugging towards Teddy.

“...with all of this trash.”

Teddy has known Niquie for a long time. The last case he worked as a detective involved busting up a crack-cocaine and prostitution ring in Magnolia. Niquie was one of the prostitutes. She was twenty-one, beautiful and pregnant, and half Teddy’s age. Yet the two grew a bond and Teddy sheltered her from any punishment, and taking it upon himself to be The Godfather to her baby, Thias.

“This trash pays me more than the McDonalds.”

Teddy looks over at Thias and with a smile, he eases his way out of the car and comes face to face with his mother. Teddy stands six-foot tall, just an inch shorter than Niquie.

“Do you know how hard it was to get Thias into that charter school, Niquie? Those people see you like this? It’s all over. No college, no degree, no nothing, nothing good for that boy.”

“I know how hard it was, and I know how much it costs.” She fires back, and continues before Teddy can reply: “The life insurance man came by today. Raised the damn rates like always.”

In the Magnolia Projects , there are shifty life-insurance agents who come in from downtown New Orleans to coerce parents into buying policies for their children. It’s not entirely impractical. For a person to see the age of twenty-five growing up in Magnolia is a bit of a miracle, however, more often than not these insurance agents are working elbow to elbow with the gangs. Raising rates for kids that have more “heat”, and terminating policies before someone is to be killed.

“The taller Thais gets the bigger a target he is…”

Thias is just fourteen and has grown to a staggering height of above six-feet, and his girth is nothing to sneeze at either. It could go without saying that the child makes the gang-bangers' eyes light up. They’ve been recruiting him for several years. His massive frame would serve the Birdie Boys well. It’s what his mother and Teddy have been working hard to avoid.

“Who’s paying for that insurance? The charter school? You drink all of your pension money up, Ted. You think I don’t want him away from this jungle?”

She points to the school Teddy works for, in the middle of Magnolia.

“All this jungle?!”

She then turns and points around at Magnolia, as a whole. The concrete cells of houses are stained with blood and graffiti.

“Niquie!”

A shout from the project stoop, it’s Giles Broussard, better known as G.B., the hereditary leader of the Birdie Boys gang. He’s around Niquie’s age, maybe a little younger. He assumed the mantle of leadership for the gang when his father was sent to prison years ago.

Where Giles’ father was perceived as a more cunning, shrewd negotiator who used his gift of gab to gain leverage in the 3rd Ward, Giles was much more brutal. Animalistic almost. Using intimidation and violence, often times murder, to resolve disputes.

“Time is money, hoe.”

He growled, stepping down from the stoop and swaggering halfway up the sidewalk toward Teddy’s vehicle,

“This dusty old man paying?” He asked with a tone of irony, knowing damn well that Teddy wasn’t a customer. G.B. has a face that Teddy couldn’t not recognize… he looked just like his father. The man Teddy put away in his final case as a detective.

“He just leaving, G.B.”

She hollers back, before turning back to Teddy who has his hand on the grip of his pistol in his waistline, “Get my son out of here, Teddy.” She whispers with panic. Niquie leans her head in the window of the Caprice and grabs young Thias by the eyes, “Mom loves you, boy”, “Boy loves you, Momma” Thias answered back instinctively like an old routine.

“You stay with Mr. Ted tonight, okay?” She consoled while reaching her skinny arm through the window like a branch. Genlty rubbing the back of her fingers across her son's face. Thias sighs through his nostrils and looks up at his mother, the look of watching a lost cause written across his face. “We’ll go to the Zoo in the morning, you ‘eard me?” She assured him,

“Ol’ busta’ PIG better be leaving…” G.B.spat walking closer to them. Niquie pulled out of the car window and put her hands on Teddy’s chest as his hand wrapped tighter around his pistol. She kissed Teddy on his scarred cheek, and begged him again to leave as G.B. continued towards them, running his mouth,

“Magnolia knows you, Teddy. You put my daddy away, and one of these days imma’ put your old dusty ass away, you ‘eard me?!”

Teddy smirked, he wasn’t intimidated, but he knew the right course of action was to leave and get Thias away from all of this nonsense.

“Niquie why you letting ol’dusty Ted run off with baby boy? You know them Birdies keep ‘em safe and keep ‘em paid.”

G.B. laughed referencing Thias, making light of his size and insinuating the gang's desire to have the young Watts boy on their roster. Teddy just smiled at G.B. and slid back into the Caprice, catching Thias’s eyes studying the gang leader.

“You’re going to stay with me tonight.”

Teddy said to Thias, starting the vehicle back up and popping it into reverse.

Thias listened to Teddy, and studied his mother in silence as she fell back with G.B. and the Birdie Boys, ready to sell herself for the evening. He was cautious in hoping too hard that his mother would come through on her promise for tomorrow. He’s heard that same song and dance too many times.

...and he was right.

Dominique Watts was murdered that night,

“Strangled to death. But it doesn’t look like there was much of a struggle.”

Royce Landry. Detective, Royce Landry, who was Teddy Guidry’s rookie partner the year he retired from the New Orleans Police said,

“She was just propped on her couch… Thias found her.”

“Nobody saw nothin’?”

Teddy asked, looking at his old partner from behind the yellow caution tape that wrapped Dominique’s apartment,

“You know how it goes, boss.”

Royce reminded him,

“Ain’t no one in the Magnolia turning on their own. We just chalk it up to gang violence and move on, am I right?”

The City that care forgot. Like the magnolia blooms on the branches. Dominique Watts will have wilted and be forgotten, just like all of the rest… but not if Teddy Guidry has anything to say about it.

Teddy looked up from the ground, afraid to peer into Thias’ eyes as he sat with a blank expression on the concrete steps that lead to his apartment… Instead Teddy looked across the project blocks, to the next building.

G.B., the leader of the Birdie Boys turned his hand and his fingers into a gun, pointed and shot towards Teddy, mouthing the words “bang, bang”.

Magnolia Noir
The Thias Watts Story



-to be continued-

The feed of the camera brings us in front of the St. Louis Zoo where we see the XWF’s monster, the undefeated, undisputed, unstoppable force of nature known as Thias Watts. He’s so big, it looks as if the outer wall of the Zoo is leaning against him, not the other way around.

Thias is still sporting the scars on his face compliments of that pussy-hoe, Dock, and a new gash splitting across his forehead from the Thugs. Thias doesn’t care about the scars, he ain’t no bitch. Pain is temporary. He knows the scars are just a part of who he is now, a part of history.

Thias rolls a toothpick around in his mouth and sucks at his teeth before turning to the camera, ready to spit fire on his opponent for Saturday Savage.

Some people try and forget they past, or better yet, try and make YOU forget.

Forget they weak. Forget they stupid decisions. Forget all the times they fail.

Cuz they afraid of the truth.

The truth being that my opponent, this dried-up booty washrag, Geri Vayden… the mark-ass hoe… she knows she’ll get fucked up quick playing with someone like Thias Watts. Broke-ass Polly Pocket lookin-ass. I’m Thias the Giant, Thias the Tyrant, Thias the MIGHTY!

See I ain’t one to hide from what I am, straight killa, straight drag an ol raggedy, trailer park goth like Geri by her nostrils. Beat it down til’ she goes and hides her face again, dreaming up a new fad to follow.

The Left Hand ghoulie, the ghost that went ghost, and then comes back with the #fuckBOB? She just slides from one overplayed clique to the next, huh? Next we thing we know, once that head gets beat in again she’ll be screaming join BOB. The fuck outta here.

Geri wants us all to forget what a waste that bitch has been. Wants us all to forget that she a red Kool-aide guzzling pussy, getting doled out like a cheap piece of ass by the Left Hand. Weak. You might not remember, Geri, but none of us forget. It’s all on tape. Deny it. Tell us you was poisoned by all that hair-dye or some shit.
Lookin like a life size Cynthia doll from the Rugrats.

I’MMA SQAUSH YOU, GERI! TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB, GERI! Smash you down, my boot crushing that ugly head til you remember what a do-nothin-hoe you are. They’ll be no denying it, no excuses this time.

You come back like a privileged little bitch, crying that you didn’t lose the Chickenhead Championship. You lost your mind. See the people who ain’t scared to remember the past, Trill-motherfuckers, sumthin Geri knows nothing about, we remember you walking into SnowJob with the belt, hoe. And we remember someone else taking it home. You said you didn’t lose, but you sure as fuck ain’t win.

Did Thunder Kunckles jar your brain loose when he squashed you the week before? Fucked ya’ whole life up, huh? Left you wanting to play Blair Witch Project in the woods instead of focusing on your Pay-Per-View draw. You silly-trick.

Did someone else lose your Anarchy title for you too? Was it Geri Miller? Had to rethink ya’ life again and marry yo weak ass baby daddy. Another post-ass-whooping identity crisis.

Tell Derrick Vayden he don’t want none either.

Derrick, Geri, Olympic Medalist Geri, Corrupt Geri, #fuckbob Geri. They ALL weak. They ALL get dealt with. Geri ain’t lookin past Thias Watts, she sees me coming and is trembling like a wet dog. Shook ass bitch. Trying to bury her embarrassments, but choosing when to wash with a scented douche on the things she thinks being a pussy is good for.

She remembers being in the Olympics. And how could we forget? The privileged little bitch, winning the gold while smoking weed? Giggling, and shallow enough to think that being a pot head is an identity. And you still prop that shit up while trill-motherfuckers like Sha’Carri Richardson gets disqualified for the same shit. That’s how Geri wins, by dumb circumstance. The faster, more talented runner getting DQed.

She remembers being Anarchy champion, Shooting Star champion, but she fuzzy on why she lost em. On why the bitch loses all time.

She.weak.as.fuck! THATS WHY! Even that skinny little gay dude, Corey Smith spotted it-



That’s Geri to a tee.

Throwin in the towel, folding like a scared little punk.

She comes back as the “dethroner” to try and pick a fight with Bobby Bourbon, and yet she still say she don’t remember the Left Hand.

Geri, this is your cue to grab the white flag.

You one fake ass bitch. Remember I said trill-motherfuckers don’t forget?

We don’t forgive either.

You trying to convince erry’one that you don’t remember the Left Hand, it’s unforgivable. Trying to manipulate these fans into showing you love again, after acting like some scary bitch. Earth to Geri, we ALL remember your pimp Baphomet posting your “Dethroner” video as a part of you joining the goth club. So you remember the name he gave you? Just not the coward you called “legie”?

Makes sense.

I’d be trying to amputate my dick outta’ that vagina too, but Thias ain’t one to follow some stupid shit like the Left Hand in the first place.

But Geri, Geri, quite contrary, this bitch comes riiight back and starts simping Marf’s antiBob hashtag. Salty that them bastards tore yo club apart. That’s what started that fizzling fad of a hashtag, Geri. You ain’t know? Marf being butthurt that Fury broke up with his daddy. Are we to believe that you had no prior knowledge as to why your homie was mad at Bob?

The.fuck.outta.here.

You as dumb as the animals in this Zoo.

Geri, we know you remember erry’thing. You just a make believe bitch. That’s why you can’t fucks with Thias Watts off-top.

The only reason Fury booked you and not Thias Watts for the number one contendership to Anarchy, is cuz she remembers your ol’ Lefty stank ass. She knows you’ll lose to her boy Terry Borden, and she knew that by the time Thias was done with you, there won’t be a match.

Imma’ put yo ass in the hospital, Geri. Make you switch your whole life up again, divorce your weak husband who couldn't protect you and become Geri Miller, divorcée. Then Derrick can come get him some if he wants, I’ll crush his skull too.

You think I’m playing, Geri? I'm a lion, and you ain’t even a gazelle. You a piece of dead meat in a stampede. Imma’ eat yo ass up...

Fuck around! Find out!