Damn, I can’t believe it’s December already. And on some real shit, I can’t wait for this year to be fuckin’ over. Man, listen, the last two-and-a-half weeks have been hectic as hell. First, Ramona’s nutty-ass has been callin’ me nonstop and she’s gone back over to Pops, again, supposedly lookin’ for me. After I told the bitch I no longer live there. Then she went to the police and told a muthafuckin’ bold-faced lie, talkin’ ’bout I threatened to throw her over a cliff, if she didn’t get rid of her baby. What kinda shit is that? And them dumb muhfuckas believed her. I wouldna known shit if Pops hadn’t called me tellin’ me I had to go to the police station ’cause they were lookin’ for me. And then when I get there, them bastards talkin’ ’bout I’m bein’ charged wit’ terroristic threats. Terroristic threats? Can you believe that shit?! I told them muthafuckas, “I never threatened that crazy bitch!” But they still charged me wit’ the shit and told me I’d haveta take it up wit’ the judge. So thanks to that delusionl ho, a muhfucka had to be dragged into Union County Municipal Court; all because some bitch got her panties in a bunch ’cause a muhfucka didn’t wanna keep feedin’ her his dick. Do you know how embarrassin’ it is to be all up in court wit’ a buncha muhfuckas and havin’ all of ya business aired out in the open? The shit’s fucked up. Lucky for me—twenty-five hundred dollars later and almost three hours of testimony and cross-examinin’—the shit got dismissed two days ago ’cause the bitch was all over the place wit’ her story.
And then fuckin’ Sherria’s unstable ass was harassin’ me wit’ her bullshit. Between textin’ and callin’ and leavin’ a buncha messages, the bitch wouldn’t let up. Talkin’ ’bout she was gonna keep blowin’ my line up ’til I agreed to see her. That wasn’t gonna happen. I told her raggedy-ass to beat it. Instead, she kept callin’ and talkin’ shit. Threatened to cut off my dick and shred it in a blender. Lucky for me, I kept all of her messages and was able to use ’em in court to get a fuckin’ restrainin’ order against her psycho ass. Fuck what ya heard. A bitch dragged me into court, so I returned the favor and dragged one into court, too. Call it a punk move if you want, but a muhfucka ain’t beat to be changin’ phone numbers ’n shit. If I tell ya ass to stop callin’, then gotdamn it…stop fuckin’ callin’! The last thing I need is another ho tryna jam me up in court wit’ some bullshit-ass lies, so I beat her to it. Got that broad banned from contactin’ me or anyone else in my personal space or comin’ anywhere near me. And there you have it!
I’ma tell you this much: Fuckin’ wit’ unstable hoes like Sherria and Ramona is a major headache, which is why you need to fuck ’em ’n dump ’em the first time you see any signs of nuttiness; especially when you know you ain’t tryna wife ’em. Ain’t no need in investin’ a buncha time and energy into a ho you know you ain’t tryna build wit’, feel me? And that’s how I’ma haveta do it from now on, especially when the bitch ain’t comin’ up offa no paper.
I stretch and yawn, gettin’ my naked ass outta bed. I slide my feet into my slippers, go into the bathroom to take a long piss, then go downstairs to crank up the heat in this bitch. “It’s colder than a dead whore’s ass up in here,” I say out loud, pickin’ up my cell to hit Pops up to check in on ’im. We talk for ’bout fifteen minutes, then I call Moms. As usual, she’s tryna beat me in the head ’bout shit I’m not gonna change. I glance outta the window. It looks like it’s gonna snow today.
“I hope you plan on making some changes in your life for the New Year. You can’t keep doing the same old stuff.” I shake my head. She seems to always call me when things aren’t goin’ right. For some reason, I wonder if she knows ’bout all the shit I’ve been through the last week or so wit’ Ramona and Sherria. But if she does, she doesn’t let on. And I’m not gonna offer, not now anyway.
“Why can’t I?”I ask, closin’ the curtain. “It works for me.”
She sighs. “Okay, Mr. It Works For Me, do you. I’m leaving it alone. If you’re not worried, then neither am I.”
I laugh, walkin’ back upstairs to my bedroom. “Yeah right, Ma. How many times have I heard that?”
“I’ve lost count,” she says. “But this time I’m really serious. I’m done. A new year is coming in and I refuse to keep worrying about you. Just like I had to do with your father, I have to accept the fact that you’re not going to change until you get good and ready.”
I sigh. Why she insists on comparin’ me to Pops is beyond me. But I’ma leave it be. “Ma, you know I love you, right.” It’s more a statement than a question. My nice way of changin’ the subject wit’out gettin’ into any extras wit’ her.
“And I love you. Now, what would you like for Christmas?”
I grin, almost forgettin’ it’s the season to be jolly, and for givin’ and receivin’. Not that I’ma be givin’ out anything other than nuts. But a muhfucka’s definitely lookin’ forward to doin’ a buncha receivin’. “I don’t need nuthin’ major, Ma. You know how I do. Besides, I may be outta town for the holidays.” I don’t have any specific travel plans as of yet ’cause it’s still early, but I tell her this, just in case sumthin’ pops off. I ask her what she wants for Christmas as well, knowin’ whatever it is I’ma haveta drop some major paper on it. But she’s worth it. And, yeah, I spend my own shit. She’s the only woman I will dip into my own pockets for. I’m not that fucked up.
“Well, I want a new handbag.” I ask her what kind and she says she’s peeped a new Louis bag she’d like to have. I tell her we can go out to Short Hills and pick it up one day next week. “And I want some sex toys. You promised me two years ago you were gonna buy me some, and I’m still waiting for ’em.”
I burst out laughin’, lyin’ back on the bed. “Ma, you serious? I was only jokin’.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“I said that when I thought you was single. But you and Pops gettin’ it in now, so you don’t need that mess now.”
“The hell if I don’t. Your father may be holdin’ it down, but I still want a lil’ extra in the bedroom. And if he knows like I know, he’d want to sit, or lie back and watch.”
Ugh. I try to shake the visual outta my head. “Ma, aiight, aiight. I don’t need to hear all this. I’ll just give you the money so you can go buy whatever freaky gadgets you need.” My cell phone beeps. It’s Cherry. “Hey, Ma, I gotta go. I have another call I gotta take. I’ll hit you up later on in the week.”
“Okay, go ’head. I’ll talk to you later.” We say our good-byes, then I click over.
“What’s good, pretty baby?”
“Is there a reason why I haven’t heard from your sexy ass?”
“Nah,” I say, slippin’ into a pair of gym shorts, then goin’ back downstairs. I stretch out on the sofa. “My bad, baby. I’ve been meanin’ to hit you up.”
“I want to see you before the holidays.”
“Damn, baby, I’d love to. But…”
“No ‘buts.’ Can you make time for me or not?”
I sigh. “When you wanna see me?”
“Now,” she coos into the phone. “I need you to come to me, right now.”
“Oh, word? You want me to come, or do you want me to cum?”
“Both.”
“Well, I think I can handle that. Is there anything else you want?”
She bursts into song. “Santa, baby, you’re all I want for Christ-maaaaaas.”
I laugh. “Oh, that’s wassup. So you want Santa to come ride ya sleigh?”
“I want him to ride my sleigh, slide down my chimney, and unload his gifts deep inside me.”
“Oh, word? Well, dig, baby…I think he can handle that,” I tell her, tuckin’ my hand down into the waistband of my shorts.
“Good. Can you come this weekend?”
I slide my hand all the way down into my shorts, play wit’ my balls. Damn, although I was just there a few weeks ago, I could definitely go for another dish of her hot, sweet cherry pie. I stroke my dick. “Tell me when, and I’m there.”
“Perfect! I’m online as we speak booking you a flight.”
“Daaaamn, baby, you wanna see big daddy bad, hunh?”
“Yes. I’ve been a bad, bad girl. And I need daddy to come spank this ass up, ASAP.” My dick jumps. She books me on a flight for Thursday night, and has me returnin’ on the Sunday night red-eye.
I grin, squeezin’ my dick. “That’s wassup. I’ll see you Thursday night.”
I go down into the kitchen, open up the ’fridge and pull out some leftover baked chicken and string beans from Boston Market, then put the plate in the microwave. I pour a glass of grape juice, then roll a blunt while I’m waitin’ for the food to heat up. I spark it up, decidin’ I had better roll four more for later.
I take my plate, drink and blunt out into the livin’ room. I flip on the television, decidin’ to check out that flick Pathology on DVD ’bout a buncha sick muhfuckas who work down in a morgue butcherin’ up already dead bodies. Thirty minutes into the movie, my cell rings.
I glance at the screen, not sure whose number it is. “Yo?”
“Hello, Alley Cat?” The voice sounds familiar, but I can’t figure out who it is.
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“It’s Candace. How’ve you been?”
This nasty freak! I roll my eyes up in my head. What the fuck she want? “Yo, wassup?”
“I miss talking to you,” she says, soundin’ overly excited. “I would really like to see you. You know, get a quick fix.”
“A quick fix of what?” I repeat sarcastically. “Some hot piss? Or how about I throw in a bucket of shit.”
“Oooooh, big daddy, let me find out you tryna get kinky wit’ it now.”
I shake my head. What a filthy ho. I glance at the clock, decide to fuck wit’ her for a few minutes. “What you have in mind?”
“Well, I was kinda thinkin’ you could come through one night after the gym, with your balls all sweaty and whatnot, and use my face and tongue as your gym towel.”
What the fuck?! “Oh, word? Then what?” I ask just to see how far this smut will take it.
“I’ll get on all fours and crawl over to you, then you spit on me. Slap my ass and talk real dirty to me.”
“Oh, you want me to call you a dirty, filthy, nasty-ass, cumsuckin’ bitch?”
“Ooooh, yes, baby…”
“How ’bout a nut-swallowin’, slutty, heathen-ass cunt-box?”
“Mmmm, oh, yes. You really know how to get my pussy hot, daddy.”
Whatever! “Then what?”
“Then you go into the bathroom, sit on the toilet and take a shit while I suck all over your dick. And I want you to spit in my face while I’m doing it, too. Then when you’re done, you get up without wiping your ass. I step into the tub, jerk your dick off and stick my finger in your shitty asshole until you nut all over my face. Then I want you to piss all over my face and mouth, rinsing it off of me.”
I frown. This tramp-ass bitch is really outta control.
“Yo, dig,” I say, disgusted, “you take freak to a whole ’nother level, word up. You do know that, right?”
She giggles. “Freak is my first name, daddy. So are you up for freaking with me?”
“You done banged ya biscuit, baby, thinkin’ I’ma ever fuck wit’ ya trashy ass, again. You a dirty gutter-rat, baby.”
“Excuuuuuuuse me?”
“You heard me. I said you’re a nasty, trashbag ho.”
“Kiss my ass!”
“Is that what you learn in Bible study? How to be a sewer whore?”
“Fuck you, motherfucker!”
“No, fuck you, baby. Oh wait, I already did,” I say, laughin’. She bangs in my ear, like I give a fuck. Nasty bitch! I turn my phone on QUIET, then put my feet up on the coffee table, finishin’ up my blunt while watchin’ the rest of this movie. I lay my head back on the sofa and before I know it, I’m knocked the fuck out.