isn't shit in the bathroom except the sink, bathtub, and toilet. They ain't have no shower curtain up, no rugs on the floor, or no soap in the god-damn soap dish. By this time, I'm pissed with my cousin for letting that nigga live up in her house and they ain't have nothing in it. I finished pissing and was about to stand up when that nigga came bursting through the door.
Bam!
he kicked that mutherfucker in with his foot.
“Man, what the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask, and cover myself with my hands.
“Any nigga who knocks at this door without my permission is bound to get whatever the fuck I got waiting for 'em. Why the fuck you think it was all right to knock at my shit?” He stands at the door staring at me with rage in his eyes. I don't notice the burner in his hand until he put the mutherfucker up to my head.
“Raise up off the muh-fucking toilet, nickga!” he orders as he presses the black 9mm directly at my temple.
“All right, dawg, I'm moving,” I say as I stand up and start to pull up my black-and-red Joe Cool boxers.
“Nah, nickga, leave them bitch-ass boxers and shorts at yo knees and get the fuck in the bedroom.”
I step out of the bathroom, holding my shorts with my hands, while my boxers are still at my knees. La-La walks beside me, never moving the gun from my dome.
“Man, what up?” I ask as I make my way to the bedroom with the black lacquer bedroom set. We pass by the children's room, and I notice they ain't have no beds, just two pissed-up mattresses on the floor.
“You owe, nigga. Pay up now or I'ma smoke your ass right here, right now!” he yells.
I reach in my back pocket, my hands trembling and shaking like a pipehead phening for crack. I start counting. “Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, one-twenty.”
The nigga snatches the money from my hands and says, “Nigga, this ain't enough to keep you breathing.” He throws the money on the bed.
“But you ain't count all of it,” I say, when I know damn well it ain't enough to close out my tab. La-La is tripping, but I know it ain't about the money. The nigga is flexing on me 'cause I caught his ass out last night. He's trying to prove to me that he's still a real nigga 'cause I found out that he likes hitting faggots.
“You got a choice. You can either suck my dick or let me fuck you. You got one minute to decide,” he says while kicking off his flip-flops and dropping his shorts to the floor with his available hand, while the other is still holding the gun to my head. My eyes grow big. I can't believe this is happening. I'm thinking, if only I had taken my cokehead ass home, I wouldn't be here right now dealing with these ultimatums this nigga giving me.
Suddenly, my heart starts beating fast:
thump thump, thump thump, thump thump.
I could see it pumping from beneath my shirt. Then I start sweating; I can feel the perspiration settling on my forehead. Then I think, Let's see, I was born a woman so if I let him hit, it wouldn't be too bad, but if I suck that nigga's dick, I might never be able to look at myself in the mirror again.
“All right, time's up,” La says, holding his dick in his hand.
“Let's fuck,” I say, as if it didn't faze me, 'cause I'm planning on fighting the nigga once we get in position.
“Nah, I changed my mind, you don't get to choose. You gon’ suck my mutherfucking dick, nickga,” he says with a sinister laugh, swinging his dick from side to side like it is his muh-fucking mostprized possession. “And if you make one wrong move I'ma blast yo bitch ass. Drop to yo knees now, nickga.” He moves the nine from my temple and points it between my eyes.
I drop to my knees, but I ain't sucking; his dick is just resting there.
“Man, where is Melody and the kids, 'spose they walk in on us?” I pull my head back and try a scare tactic so he'll let me go.
“Melody is wit’ yo momma at the Purple Pit and the kids is with they country-ass daddy in Charles City. So, nickga, shut the fuck up. I know
Bam!
he kicked that mutherfucker in with his foot.
“Man, what the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask, and cover myself with my hands.
“Any nigga who knocks at this door without my permission is bound to get whatever the fuck I got waiting for 'em. Why the fuck you think it was all right to knock at my shit?” He stands at the door staring at me with rage in his eyes. I don't notice the burner in his hand until he put the mutherfucker up to my head.
“Raise up off the muh-fucking toilet, nickga!” he orders as he presses the black 9mm directly at my temple.
“All right, dawg, I'm moving,” I say as I stand up and start to pull up my black-and-red Joe Cool boxers.
“Nah, nickga, leave them bitch-ass boxers and shorts at yo knees and get the fuck in the bedroom.”
I step out of the bathroom, holding my shorts with my hands, while my boxers are still at my knees. La-La walks beside me, never moving the gun from my dome.
“Man, what up?” I ask as I make my way to the bedroom with the black lacquer bedroom set. We pass by the children's room, and I notice they ain't have no beds, just two pissed-up mattresses on the floor.
“You owe, nigga. Pay up now or I'ma smoke your ass right here, right now!” he yells.
I reach in my back pocket, my hands trembling and shaking like a pipehead phening for crack. I start counting. “Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, one-twenty.”
The nigga snatches the money from my hands and says, “Nigga, this ain't enough to keep you breathing.” He throws the money on the bed.
“But you ain't count all of it,” I say, when I know damn well it ain't enough to close out my tab. La-La is tripping, but I know it ain't about the money. The nigga is flexing on me 'cause I caught his ass out last night. He's trying to prove to me that he's still a real nigga 'cause I found out that he likes hitting faggots.
“You got a choice. You can either suck my dick or let me fuck you. You got one minute to decide,” he says while kicking off his flip-flops and dropping his shorts to the floor with his available hand, while the other is still holding the gun to my head. My eyes grow big. I can't believe this is happening. I'm thinking, if only I had taken my cokehead ass home, I wouldn't be here right now dealing with these ultimatums this nigga giving me.
Suddenly, my heart starts beating fast:
thump thump, thump thump, thump thump.
I could see it pumping from beneath my shirt. Then I start sweating; I can feel the perspiration settling on my forehead. Then I think, Let's see, I was born a woman so if I let him hit, it wouldn't be too bad, but if I suck that nigga's dick, I might never be able to look at myself in the mirror again.
“All right, time's up,” La says, holding his dick in his hand.
“Let's fuck,” I say, as if it didn't faze me, 'cause I'm planning on fighting the nigga once we get in position.
“Nah, I changed my mind, you don't get to choose. You gon’ suck my mutherfucking dick, nickga,” he says with a sinister laugh, swinging his dick from side to side like it is his muh-fucking mostprized possession. “And if you make one wrong move I'ma blast yo bitch ass. Drop to yo knees now, nickga.” He moves the nine from my temple and points it between my eyes.
I drop to my knees, but I ain't sucking; his dick is just resting there.
“Man, where is Melody and the kids, 'spose they walk in on us?” I pull my head back and try a scare tactic so he'll let me go.
“Melody is wit’ yo momma at the Purple Pit and the kids is with they country-ass daddy in Charles City. So, nickga, shut the fuck up. I know
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