Friday, February 18, 2011

A Day in the Life -- Intro

    ME

Suzanne, Roxy, and lemon standing along the corner, dressed like whores. mad colorful neon nylon like

 it was 1980. Holding it down like it ain't no thang.

 Johnny D roll up in the caddy hearse limo n put pimp hand hand out like he mean it and he flick them

rings it towards the ho.

 "Aye Bitch!" yelling" Bring dat ass ova here a minute, let me cop the scratch ho"

She looked foxy and innocent, but was still sordid  like the slippery whore she was, so loose and breezy

"Daddy i need mah moneys to keep on hustlin' playboy, i am the rabbit today, SEVENTEEN!"'


Aggravated -J.D- 'Bitch that better be seventeen hundred dollars workin overtime like you does! shit, i

got other girls who won't act up and always cough up, fuck worse than you and still make more money

just cause they don't stand out here and suck dick for fun like a catholic schoolgirl's only hobby since

counting her rosary like she ate the whole damn thing yesterday and had been praying for deliverance

the whole time since."


  lemon- "Dat ho Rochelle be kickin her sweet fat ass on the corner of 7th and Game baby, all day pussy

slayers who get like some little nigger addicted to rock might not be tryin to see you role up, so why not

go raise cain, Johnny Rufus Percy Dorrence,


-j.d-Raises his pimp hand slow, looks at the ground, growls, "Don't make me take my strong hand

upside your head bitch, you call me Pappy, Pimpin, Pappa, Playboy or partner. only reason you ain't

suckin dick for gingercrack right now is cause i beat some sense into you like it was Streets of Rage on

that supernintendo. So we ride, that bitch hop up on it like she wants some, young and soft like she

should be, before the malnutrition and drugs put a fragile child in the way of John Henry and the only

rod he had left for the railroad, before taking out angst and aggression in the form of inward destruction

of the sensitive areas, of the girl. she see's John Henry, i scare him down with the side of my moustache

and makes it for know he doesn't touch my whore.


He see's lemon but i got to hides her, so she gets up in the limo straight all black and excessive for

one man, cheaufeax was my cousin who see's the large prison body negro amble with deft colors and no

dryness towards that window i hung the ash out as i was smokin my Newport cigarette, and real rough

he leans in and opens his big beady eyes real wide, staring me down to the whites, grinning a smile

larger than the Cheshire Cat. "Ruski score me some of that clean breej and i might not bring the pain,

need to kill some stray loose powder man, that dust!! I knows it flows from your hand like sand man.


  "I got rock, ice, and ice rock for the likes of you, now show me yo paper and lets do it. Negro flips out

500 in fives tens and twenty lays it down and i throw this man a quarta O of cut Powder, diamond crack,

she was pure at one time, but by the time she gets to the streets the only thing that shimmer are the shards

of class.


 I smelled my money and knew that my lady Jezzebel ain't been touched just to save a man's life for the

two minutes it took for me to take his money and tell him to fuck off.


  I set the whip for Aviator Parkway and put up my shades, pensing, hard decisions are just road

blocks in the way of getting anything done, so i put my faith in god and let my truth and color fly

forward.


   She appeared bent over, in the darkness, staring out with her ass towards the street lookin off into the

distance


"Aye Jezzie, baby, where the paper at"


"That Train nigger done robbed me playboy, what the fuck you gone do? you wanna get paid? catch

that nigger."


 "Damn it J, fuck your shit, wheres your damn shank like i taught you.Wouldn't lass a day in Rome, ho. I

tossed that money clip back into her soft titties, being caught in here cleavage like a stripper at a cocaine

casino. "Talk to Jenny too, she got it so hard she can't walk for the 15 dollar holler, she's so open but I'll

be honest the Train man fucks like my father, just unconsensually and usually brutally. I didn't give a

fuck about that ho, but it's about time something need to  be done.





"Everyone Be the game Players"





 I knew where train stay at, a crack den, which he was now no doubt the lord and baron holding putting

death powder down the rock that Regan loves, you could smell the scherm cookin up on the side of the

stove from the street, i light up with my strap cold against by back, held in my belt like i was Bruce

Willis, revolving chamber pinching my skin, itching to fire, un rifled silencer stood like a copper pipe

soldered on to the barrel thick and heavy were the butt, and the barrel the lever, my wrist the fulcrum, as

a take the butt of my gun and slam it against the skull of the jolly braided negro over the stove.


  "Nigga...." the only words that could escape the man before he hit the ground cold. "Only when i

picked him up  by the braids and held his face seconds above that pot of boilling PCP, Dust, Powder,

Soda, CH2O,  and did he come to, the fumes kicking like the back of a car's tailpiipe tied back into the

chassis.


 "Where's that nigger Train" i grumbled, the man only moaned, long slow and deep, like he were

breathing that nitrous, "Ain't no Train here, nigguh." he said, spitting on my face like i told him to, like

the motherfucker couldn't just speak english. It didn't take Sherlock Holdups to figure he was lying to

me, i know what base is fool, and i know what my powder smells like.





  "Oh Really?" I look at him with a look of disinterest, before i take his greazy nappy hair by the braids

and proceed to slam his head into the pot of schurm repeatedly untill he comes at me crying like a school

kid with the burns on his face and the negro hairs staining his product, "Nigga what the fuck you know

he's up stairs"





That was all i needed to hear, just ain't tryin to be gang raped and lynched today.





"Thanks punk" i say, pullin on my lighter for another cigarette, body of the chef lying beneath his spilled

and bloodied craft.


 "this is serious fucking business, faggot"


i flick the ash and glowing ember of my half smoked cigarette on his newly greased jerry curl style

lighting the mixture of impotent drugs now brazen with the fox fire friendship made with the campfire

sounds of burning hair. I walk up the stairs, to see an hear older nergro ambling and groaning to the

door, creaking the old floorboards of the long abandoned crack house. When that door handle shook i

stood ready at arms with my gun drawn, and when i hear the door unlock and the knob turn, i kick the

door down with all my might to see an inebriated man stumble back onto the old bedframe and mattress

that was the center and focal peice of the room, holding money no doubt and surprisingly little else, save

even a threadbare sheet strewn hanging across the windows. I have a clear shot to the nose of the man

and my large heavy handed, heavy handed banger of Caesar's brutality like just to hear him sigh "Et tu

Brute" before laughing with the gods of incumbent death, I take my seven feet of stray rope, a prophets

jack knife, and proceed to string the nigger up, wrapping it once around his neck and once around the

two bedposts, and i stood like man who was holding back the walls of Jericho, pulling till the world

come tumbling down. My favorite reference to an obscure movie, I choked that nigger till her was the

embodiment of The Color Purple, just before his bloodshot eyes began to bulge out of his head like he

was Bernie Mac, and i decided i would let the wrought vhemence gargling cretin live, so i let go.


Unfortunately, he couldn't help releasing a savage string of remarks no moe endearing than actually

personally revocable but so it was and so life would be, i took out my knife, and i showed him the pretty

blood drop etched in with laser. one more for my dripping blade i suppose. i Make haste to tie the cord in

his mouth, vocal chords chaffed like a grenade of such efficacy, my blade went to work, first on the

tendons, Achillies, the Hamstrings, and the fine arches behind the knee. I left his paralyzed, just for fun,

but still didn't kill him yet, so to leave a message to the niggers and kids who would no doubt come

about and rob this crack house, i cut his dick right off, and left the balls and shaft in his mouth before

sewing it closed, with the blood drained the penis looked like a child's, but cold and grey like an old

mans who had been swimming. While both of us were enjoying the meal and the company,  proceeded

to string him up like a hog and tie him to the ceiling, not to hang him, but to starve him, and sadly torture

him. Which only means that it's possible i might get arrested, but we'll cross that bridge when we get

there. with a few loops of string around the bedpost i was able to get the force of the weight of the limp

body against the rope to float in the air, before i proceeded to befoul displace and destroy the mattress,

leaving the nigger dangling above, looking at the ceiling, while i proceeded to rob him of his porno

magazines, quarta kilo of unreasonably righteous weed, a quarter briefcase of bills, stolen no doubt over

the course of his life, and most importantly, his pride. This was necessary, in the world we live in, and to

make a note of it, i took my blade and carved in jagged letters



"This is What you Get when you Mess with Us"

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