Copyright © 2026 by James K. Moore

Book Of Memes II

All rights are reserved solely by the author. The author guarantees that all content is original and does not infringe upon the legal rights of any other person or work. No part of this book may be reproduced without the author’s permission. The views expressed in this book are not necessarily those of the publisher.

DEDICATION

To my family and friends—thank you for your patience, encouragement, and belief. Your support made this journey possible.

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

1

New Apartment, Same Life

2

New Job, Same Jane

3

Train Chronicles

4

Mike Unfiltered

5

Tinder & Bad Decisions

6

Vanessa Still Living Rent Free

7

Broke Again Already

8

Outside Was a Mistake

9

Apartment Living Is Ghetto

10

One Bad Night

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to express my gratitude and appreciation to the many individuals who have supported and contributed to the creation of this book. I am also grateful to the countless colleagues, mentors, and leaders who have shared their insights and experiences, enriching the pages with valuable perspectives. Additionally, I appreciate the team of editors, researchers, and designers who have worked diligently to refine and present this material in its best form. Finally, I would like to thank my family and loved ones for their unwavering support and encouragement throughout this journey. This book would not have been possible without their belief in me and my endeavors.

Chapter One

New Apartment, Same Life

Moving is one of them things in life that sound exciting until you actually start doing it.

Everybody be like:

“New chapter, bro!”

“Fresh start bro!”

“New energy bro!”

Ain’t nothing fresh about carrying a mattress up three flights of stairs smelling like old carpet and broken dreams.

Hazel Crest looked cool online.

In person?

It looked like somebody hit copy and paste on the same apartment building twelve times and said, “good enough.”

Me and Mike pulled up in my Honda packed like we fleeing the country.

Trash bags full of clothes.

Random cords I ain’t used since Obama was president.

One fork.

No spoons.

Real bachelor starter kit.

Soon as we got out the car Mike fired up a blunt like we wasn’t about to do manual labor.

“Cuz this gone make the move easier.”

Nigga we carrying furniture not feelings.

But whatever.

We start with the couch.

Easy.

Then the boxes.

Cool.

Then came the mattress.

This mattress felt like it was stuffed with bricks and unpaid child support.

We dragging it up the stairs sideways, upside down, rotating it like we solving a damn Rubik’s cube.

Sweat dripping in my eye.

Back cracking like bubble wrap.

Mike breathing like he just ran a marathon with asthma.

Halfway up the second flight he goes:

“Cuz… if I die… tell my baby mama I ain’t mean it.”

“Mean what?”

“Everything.”

Typical Mike.

We finally prop it against the hallway wall to catch our breath.

That’s when she walks out her door.

Slow.

Confident.

Basketball shorts.

White tee.

Slides.

Dreads tied back.

Face saying “I don’t like nobody.”

Stud.

She look like she bench press refrigerators for fun.

She glance at us struggling like we background characters.

Then hits us with:

“Look like y’all need another hand.”

I’m thinking:

Bet.

Finally.

Human decency.

Maybe the burbs ain’t that bad.

Maybe God still answering prayers.

She stand there two seconds…

Then laugh.

Not a cute laugh.

Not a giggle.

Nah.

That “life is pointless” laugh.

Then just… walks away.

Didn’t even slow down.

Didn’t even pretend to help.

Just violated us spiritually and kept it pushing.

I blink twice.

Mike staring at her like she just stole his lunch money.

He drops his side of the mattress.

BOOM.

Thing almost took my foot off.

Before I could say chill this man yells down the hallway:

“WHY STUDS DON’T FUCK OTHER STUDS? LET ME GUESS—THAT SHIT GAY HUH?!”

I froze.

Because you know when Mike talk… it ain’t logic coming out.

It’s pure unemployment.

The hallway went silent.

Somebody upstairs stopped vacuuming.

A baby started crying.

Even the air conditioner paused like:

“…damn.”

She stopped walking.

Slow turn.

You ever see a video game boss turn around?

That’s what it felt like.

She hit us with the middle finger so sharp it cut the air.

Then mouthed:

“Fuck y’all.”

Door slammed.

Apartment shook.

Mike nodding like he just won an argument.

“Had to let her know.”

“No you didn’t. You really didn’t.”

Now we still gotta move the mattress…

And we just declared war with the neighbor…

Day one.

Didn’t even unpack yet.

I already got an enemy.

I swear every time I try to start fresh life be like:

“lol nah.”

By the time we finished moving everything in, I was laying on the floor staring at the ceiling thinking:

New apartment.

Same broke energy.

Same ignorant cousin.

Same bullshit.

Fresh start my ass.

After that hallway incident, the energy was off.

You ever feel when you just moved somewhere and already got beef?

Like damn…

I don’t even know where the light switches at yet and I got enemies.

Me and Mike ain’t say much after that.

Just silently carried stuff like two divorced dads moving into separate apartments.

Trip after trip.

Boxes.

Bags.

Random junk I swear I needed but clearly don’t.

By the last load my shirt was drenched.

Back tight.

Hands dusty.

Soul tired.

We finally shut the door behind us.

Apartment quiet as hell.

No couch set up.

No bed frame.

No TV plugged in.

Just boxes stacked like Amazon threw up in here.

Mike looked around and said,

“Lowkey this look like a trap house.”

“Shut up.”

First thing I do is check the fridge.

Because after manual labor a man deserves food.

I open it.

Light come on.

That’s it.

No food.

No juice.

Not even baking soda.

Just cold air and disappointment.

Freezer?

Empty.

Not even ice.

Cabinets?

One ramen.

One mustard packet.

And some hot sauce from Popeyes.

That’s not groceries.

That’s evidence.

I stood there staring like something else was gone magically appear.

Like maybe if I look hard enough a Hot Pocket might spawn.

Nothing.

Whole kitchen said:

“You on your own champ.”

I forgot…

I spent all my money on:

first month rent

deposit

U-Haul

gas

and dumb shit I didn’t need from Target

So now I’m broke broke.

Not “tight on money.”

Not “budgeting.”

Nah.

Financially fighting for my life.

Mike grabbed the last bottle of water and said,

“Cuz you got food?”

I gave him a look.

“What it look like?”

He nodded like he already knew.

Then had the audacity to say,

“Aight I’m finna head out.”

I stared at him.

“You not gone help me set nothing up?”

“Nah I’m tired. Plus you live here now, this yo problem.”

This nigga.

Used my muscles and left me with my struggles.

Door closed behind him like a movie scene.

Apartment extra quiet now.

I’m sitting on the floor, back against the wall, surrounded by boxes, starving, sweating, phone on 12%.

No bed.

No Wi-Fi.

No food.

Just vibes.

I pulled out that single pack of ramen like it was a legendary item.

Stared at it.

Debated if I should save it for tomorrow like survival mode.

Then said screw it.

If I die, I die fed.

Boiled the noodles.

Sat on the floor eating straight out the pot like a prison documentary.

That’s when it hit me.

Everybody talking about:

“Congrats on the move bro!”

Meanwhile I’m eating struggle noodles in an empty apartment with no furniture like:

Yeah.

This the dream.

After Mike yelled down the hallway like he was hosting a TED Talk for idiots, everything got awkward.

Not regular awkward.

Apartment-complex awkward.

The kind where you gotta see the same person every day.

Mailbox awkward.

Parking lot awkward.

“Don’t make eye contact” awkward.

And we ain’t even been here an hour.

I just stood there holding the mattress like:

Bro…

We LIVE here now.

This ain’t Walmart.

You can’t just say wild shit and leave.

This is a lease.

Twelve months.

With enemies.

She turned around slow like a final boss in a video game.

No words.

Just pure hate in her eyes.

Hit us with that middle finger like she practiced it in the mirror.

Then slammed her door so hard the hallway echoed.

Even the light flickered a little.

I looked at Mike.

“You happy?”

He nodded like he just solved racism.

“Had to stand on business.”

Stand on WHAT business?!

We carrying furniture!

Ain’t nobody threatened us!

We still had two trips left.

Now every time we walked past her door it felt like we sneaking through enemy territory.

I’m tiptoeing like:

Don’t cough.

Don’t breathe loud.

Don’t exist.

Mike though?

This nigga humming.

HUMMING.

Like we ain’t just started World War 3.

Last trip up the stairs we hear her door crack open again.

I froze mid-step.

Mattress halfway through the doorway.

She stepped out to take trash to the chute.

Didn’t even look at us.

But somehow that was worse.

That silent treatment be louder than yelling.

Mike whispers:

“Don’t worry cuz, she probably cool.”

I stared at him.

“YOU JUST CALLED HER OUT HER NAME FIVE MINUTES AGO.”

He shrugged.

“She’ll get over it.”

Get over it?!

Bro some people hold grudges for decades.

You arguing with somebody who look like they shadow box for fun.

I already knew how this was gone go.

Every time I check my mail she gone be there.

Every time I take trash out she gone be there.

Every time I’m carrying groceries she gone be watching like:

“Yeah… struggle.”

All because this nigga can’t control his mouth.

By the time we finally finished moving everything in, I realized something:

Most people first day in a new place be like:

“Met some nice neighbors 😊 ”

Me?

I got beef before I got Wi-Fi.

Didn’t even unpack my drawers yet.

Already got an ops list.

Life don’t even give me a tutorial level.

Just straight to enemies.

Night time hit different when you just moved.

During the day you busy.

Carrying stuff.

Sweating.

Cussing.

But at night?

That’s when reality sit next to you like:

“So… what now?”

Apartment empty as hell.

No couch.

No TV hooked up.

No Wi-Fi.

Just me, a mattress on the floor, and silence loud enough to hear my own thoughts.

I tried to scroll Instagram.

Buffering.

Tried YouTube.

Two pixels and hope.

Tri…