Yo man she a trick heffa, just leave her be. Ricky was raggin' on Julio again. He sayin somethin bout your moms man, I said just to get him going. He always had a temper. I guess it was part my fault though, I loved to see him blow up. Ricky was still talkin' some sort of smack and you could see Julio ears turning red. This is where he would usually get all up in someones face and shout something like puta la madra and start a fight, but this time he didn't. He did get right up in Ricky's face, he was smaller than Ricky and a whole lot darker. That vein popping out of the middle of his forehead looked like he was about to pop him.I was bout ready to stop him and say I was sorry and I was certain that Ricky would follow suit and we could go back to our burgers. He stormed out of the diner before I even could get up. Ricky looked at me real wide eyed and then a smile crept over his face and real quietly so he couldn't hear he said, bendito.
You don’t think you have a chance with this one, but you’ll be surprised to find out she’s more preparada than you think. You see the way she can’t keep her fingers still? That’s a good sign, means she’s nervous. Means she’s at least a little bit intimidated by what she’s seeing. Why, I’m not sure, you’re clearly worse off than she is, sweating like you just ran your first mile. Don’t scare this one away, please, for the name of your family don’t scare this one away, necesitas méteselo. At least once before you die, though at this rate, I bet there are spider webs on the inside of those jeans of yours.
This girl’s fácil to read, ese, like she’s not even trying to hide it. I don’t know how you can’t see it, estúpido, the way she’s sitting there across from you, twirling the thick green straw of her drink between her anxious little fingers, giggling too much for the lines you’ve been throwing her way. “You’re cute, you remind me of my cousin?” Really ese? Come on, you’re making the rest of us look bad.
How to Throw a Party (When Your Parents Are Out of Town)
Acquisition
First, you gotta find someone old enough and dumb enough to buy you kids some alcohol. Say you’ll scratch off the barcodes so the cops can’t pin it on them if you get busted, but you’ll forget because you’re sure you won’t get busted. You probably won’t, you tell them, because your neighborhood’s always loud and none of them ever get busted. Offer to pay an extra fee for their services, even though you don’t know how you’ll get the extra money without charging at the door, which will cut severely into the amount of party-goers you will expect. Maybe you can get Bobby and some of his friends to help cover it since they love their alcohol and don’t want to go a night without it. Do what it takes. Get them to agree. Ask if they need a ride to the liquor store or the beer store, depending on how crazy of a party you want to have. You probably don’t have a car, but you can borrow Bobby’s if you remind him what you’re getting, or you can call a cab or ask your sixteen year-old rich cousin, who might say yes if you let her come to the party.
The second thing you notice about the bartender is her hips. Well, maybe the absence of hips, how her bones just seem to slide under her skin, rippling under the surface, like a whisper you'd make out if you'd just get to lean in close enough. If you could just put an ear against the movement, you'd hear the secrets of her dark marrow. The third thing you notice is that she's always moving. She flies from one end of the bar to the other, stopping for precious few seconds to eye you up as you order another Miller Lite. Maybe she gives you a smile -- no, she always gives you a smile -- but maybe she'll ask how you've been, in her husky bright voice maybe she'll tell you about the paintings she sold at an art show last weekend. The first thing you noticed wasn't realized until you noticed the rest. The other things hadn't seemed to matter at first. It's the way your husband's eyes are directed toward her. It's the way he's looking up at her over the rim of his vodka cranberry in the same second you turn to tell him something, something menial, maybe a comment about how crowded Grace's was that night. That's when you notice the way her silvery shirt stops full inches above the lip of her jeans, the flatness there. When you notice how like a dancer she seems, leaping from person to person. The way her laugh rises above the myriad other voices competing for volume around the pool tables. The way the cheap neon lights advertising beer fall on her face in an oddly soft way, like her skin has some sort of glow underneath. Everything goes still when you see your husband seeing someone else, because it's a look that was once familiar, a look that asks gently, a look that wants. And the bartender is frozen at the bar, looking the other way, laughing at something someone else has said, one leg lifted in the air as if landing from flight, her skin smoldering red from the Budweiser sign overhead.
In the beginning.... Well, I always knew that Raven was smart, but a perfect score on the SAT? Really? Geez, he makes a farm boy like me feel like a complete moron. I may not have gotten the Harvord genes, but I put all my effort into my work, well, most of the time, anyway. I mean, when I'm not out partying and stuff. Yea, us farm kids will get some booz from the older farm kids and throw us a rager, usually in a barn or random field, but that's beside the point. Just cause Raven has smart parents, and mine didn't finish high school, doesn't mean I should be considered stupid. Just sayin'
Yale... Was Raven's choice, doesn't get much better than that. Me? Mediocrity Community College. It's better than nothing, but I can't help but be jealous of Raven's superior IQ. I call him my friend, but it's tough coming in second place every time. School starts in the fall, Raven is going off to big boy school, and I'll be livin' at home, with my parents, and my little brother, and all our smelly cows, and the chickens, and the big pile of shit we have to spread on all crops... Oh! And my GReat Aunt Ezmarelda, she's 102, and smells like rotten cabbage smothered in ketchup and bbq sauce. It's not pleasant, but that's beside the point, Raven's gunna make it big, and I'll probably end up a lonely farmer.
10 years have passed... Since I last saw Raven. We were once best friends, but once he went off to Yale, we kinda lost contact. But today was our high school reunion. Turns out Raven lost it at preppy boy college. All the stress got to him and he turned into a crack head. He also went to rehab for a crystal meth addiction. He looks like he's like 50 years old. He dropped outta school and is now living with his parents. I don't mean to brag, but I moved out of my parents place, and have a nice humble abode down the street. I also run my family farm. It didn't seem like much at the time, but I'm happy I went to MCC. And I am a praud man, because The hardenst drug I have ever tried is oxycotton. I would never do any of the crazy shit like like Raven. I also have an awesome girlfriend, Betty-Sue McFillihan. Yea, she's my cousin, but she was adopted so that makes it ok.
It all Ended after... Betty-Sue and I got married and had 3 amazing children, Teapot, Vacuum, and Bobby. Everything was goin great, for a while anyway. It wasn't till my tracker attacked me, that everything was great. It all happened when I was listining to that new Banjo Bob song "I said a' ring ting a ting ting bling bling a pong tong wong wang tang ting, A hillnbilly life for me," I just seemed to lose my sense with reality, seeing as it was such a good song. That's beside the point, anyway, I was thrown off the tractor, run over, and dragged to the fertilizer pit. Needless to say, I drowned in a big pool of feces. What a way to go!
“How to impress your boss” – By Ryan Wilk If you are reading this then you must be disappointed with your current salary. You must be thinking to yourself that the amount of money you make now can never possibly buy all of those fancy cars you wish you had. Perhaps it is time for a raise? Or maybe a promotion? Well with just a few easy steps, you can impress your boss enough that he or she will promote you to the highest position available. It is almost guaranteed. It doesn’t even matter what company you work for, or what position you start out in. If you make a good impression on your boss, you will be able to make as much money as you want, and with that, you could do anything. The first thing you need to do is get your boss to notice you. If you work at one of the expendable positions, chances are, your boss doesn’t even know you exist. Remember these tips will work for anyone, so even if you are a lowly janitor, you still can rise up to become your boss’s right hand man. You don’t even need any schooling. All of your colieges who are higher up on the business latter will loathe you when you climb above them. They spent years trying to get to that position, and in just a few weeks you can achieve what they have and more. Think about how cool you will be. Yep. If you just listen to these tips, you will soon be making all the money your heart desires, and all of those fancy cars will be yours.
The first thing you’ll notice about him is the fact that you can see his bones as if you were staring at a skeleton. He hasn’t eaten for days yet for some reason he still insists that he is perfectly fine. He won’t mind you staring at him, in fact he prefers it. But the sight of his bones moving will gross you out yet you simply can’t take your eyes off it. And it doesn’t help that he likes to wear only gray boxers because he claims clothes to be suffocating and down right irritating. The second thing you’ll notice is how he doesn’t frown at all. He thinks that tragedy doesn’t exist and that everything that happens to him is to ensure happiness. If you looked in his file, you can see that his history is littered with tragedies from his parents being killed at a young age to being beaten in some dark alleyway. He denies them all and says that they happened to some other person. Thus you can guess the reason why you are here, to get him to see past these delusions so that he is on his way being treated. The third and probably the most important is the fact that he is a pathological liar. Do not take everything he says personally. He will try to get under your skin and make you incredible insane which is why you are the eighth doctor chosen to work here. We’ve tried countless times to figure out why he lies but so far we found nothing. That is why every time you meet with him, you will need to be very cautious. We would like for you to be successful in your work thus why I am telling you these precautions. The police found him in an apartment with his arms and face covered in blood. He didn’t know what happened, just assumed that the victims had fallen asleep after drinking lots of wine. The polygraph tests found him to be telling the truth which contradicted with what we saw on the tapes. He indeed killed that couple while singing a childish lullaby, which we still can’t understand. I hope that you remember everything I’ve mentioned because again it will help you in treating him. You are the best doctor we could find and we are running out of time before we must lobotomize him. The city council deemed that if we can’t treat him, then we must take out parts of his brain so that he can walk out without harming anyone again. As you can see we are running out of room, so it is up to you to fix him. Good luck and I hope you are proven successful at your work.
What you want to live by is the idea that everything is optional. Nothing is mandatory. Your schooling, your job, family parties, friends' birthdays, funerals——they're all optional. As far as your excuses go: nothing elaborate. Oversleeping, sickness——you know. But the cornerstone too lazy excuses is just not admitting to knowing about the event. "Paul died?" Or you just simply ignore that group of people for a month and then come back a month later with a new haircut and pretend like nothing ever happened. The second most important part is simple: never put your clothes away at night. Always to the floor with them. Get a cat. You know when people call you lazy, you gotta come back at them hard. I mean not too hard, don't overexert yourself. Bring up how their relationships never work because they have trust issues or that they wouldn't understand shit about you because they have been served on a platinum motherfucking platter there whole shitting life. Sleep is the most important part of one's life. There's no such thing as a good night's rest because everyone needs at least 3 naps a day as well. IF you do go to school, work, family parties, friends' birthdays, funerals——make sure to fall asleep at some point. Let others take care of the cat. And never ever, if you want people to take you seriously lazy, never ever finish anyth
First, you wake up too late for class, and have to rush around to get ready. You realize that all of your t-shirts are dirty, pick up the first one you can find on the floor. There's a giant brown stain in the bottom left corner of it, but you still have to brush your teeth. That's when you remember that you still have to print out that paper for your class before you go so you don't even have time to look in a mirror again, let alone brush your teeth. You pat your hair down and try to get rid of the random strays that are awkwardly sticking up. Bed head is such a normal occurrence that it doesn't really matter anyway. You check your backpack to make sure you have the book you need and you head out the door, barely remembering to turn off the light and lock the door behind you. As soon as you clicks, it hits you; your key and id card are sitting on your desk, right next to your cell phone. You spend the next seconds looking for something small and sharp to try and fiddle with the lock, hoping it'll open. The best thing you can find is a pair of scissors, which doesn't work. You spend the next couple of minutes staring hopelessly at the door, and then you realize that you're probably going to be late to class because those ten minutes you set aside to go to the computer lab, you have spent half of fruitlessly trying to open your door.
Ay mamí, I may not be da flyest playa up in dis bitch, but my fade’s on point ‘n mah kicks is dope ‘n mah tee is clean ‘n white—crisp da way it should be, chu’know? Too many fellas be comin’ tru dis jawn lookin’ whacka den crackas. But yo, I ain’t tryna front. Just tryna talk wit’chu right quick, so lemme speak mah piece. My girl just split on me. I ain’t all torn up ova dat bitch but I was gonna lay low t’night. But fuck dat noise. Slow motion’s betta dan no motion, ya dig? And chu be tinkin’ I be trippin’ right now but dis is real talk—I’m bein’ one hunnit. Yo: when I rolled in, da last ting I was tinkin ‘bout was meetin’ some fine honeys. But den I seent chu and thought chu was da baddest mamacita I eva seent—da kinda chica dat I’d wanna getta know, nam sayin? I be sittin, tinkin dat my mind’ll stay spinnin if I din’t ax chu, so I’ma tell it to ya straight. I’m feelzin’ on chu so lemme ax chu: where you sleepin at t’night?
The last thing anyone ever noticed about Christine was her smile. Usually, they were too busy looking at her legs, her hips, her stomach, her chest, her everything to notice what a nice smile she had. She'd come into the bar, a stumbling mess of trashy clothes and cheap perfume and throw herself down on the first man to make a comment. She had no self respect, how could she? She'd been nothing but a body her whole life, nothing but a doll. I watched her from a distance, nearly cringing as she spilled half a glass of something strong onto the lap of the ass she'd acquainted herself with. At first, he'd be mad, maybe give her a threatening look. She'd dealt with this before, and knew that a drunken diversion was enough to make any half sober man forget how clumsy she'd been. She was a professional after all. Her girl friends would come and go, some would leave her there with a stranger and other times they'd pull her out before she'd make an idiot of herself. Tonight, they'd left her with a redneck that reeked of chewing tobacco and cheap beer. Classy. It was almost painful to watch. I'd thought about taking her out of there, but she would run. I was nothing but a stranger to her, and that's the way I'd always stay.
Yo man she a trick heffa, just leave her be.
ReplyDeleteRicky was raggin' on Julio again.
He sayin somethin bout your moms man, I said just to get him going.
He always had a temper. I guess it was part my fault though, I loved to see him blow up. Ricky was still talkin' some sort of smack and you could see Julio ears turning red. This is where he would usually get all up in someones face and shout something like puta la madra and start a fight, but this time he didn't. He did get right up in Ricky's face, he was smaller than Ricky and a whole lot darker. That vein popping out of the middle of his forehead looked like he was about to pop him.I was bout ready to stop him and say I was sorry and I was certain that Ricky would follow suit and we could go back to our burgers. He stormed out of the diner before I even could get up.
Ricky looked at me real wide eyed and then a smile crept over his face and real quietly so he couldn't hear he said, bendito.
Roberto’s First
ReplyDeleteYou don’t think you have a chance with this one, but you’ll be surprised to find out she’s more preparada than you think. You see the way she can’t keep her fingers still? That’s a good sign, means she’s nervous. Means she’s at least a little bit intimidated by what she’s seeing. Why, I’m not sure, you’re clearly worse off than she is, sweating like you just ran your first mile. Don’t scare this one away, please, for the name of your family don’t scare this one away, necesitas méteselo. At least once before you die, though at this rate, I bet there are spider webs on the inside of those jeans of yours.
This girl’s fácil to read, ese, like she’s not even trying to hide it. I don’t know how you can’t see it, estúpido, the way she’s sitting there across from you, twirling the thick green straw of her drink between her anxious little fingers, giggling too much for the lines you’ve been throwing her way. “You’re cute, you remind me of my cousin?” Really ese? Come on, you’re making the rest of us look bad.
How to Throw a Party (When Your Parents Are Out of Town)
ReplyDeleteAcquisition
First, you gotta find someone old enough and dumb enough to buy you kids some alcohol. Say you’ll scratch off the barcodes so the cops can’t pin it on them if you get busted, but you’ll forget because you’re sure you won’t get busted. You probably won’t, you tell them, because your neighborhood’s always loud and none of them ever get busted. Offer to pay an extra fee for their services, even though you don’t know how you’ll get the extra money without charging at the door, which will cut severely into the amount of party-goers you will expect. Maybe you can get Bobby and some of his friends to help cover it since they love their alcohol and don’t want to go a night without it. Do what it takes. Get them to agree.
Ask if they need a ride to the liquor store or the beer store, depending on how crazy of a party you want to have. You probably don’t have a car, but you can borrow Bobby’s if you remind him what you’re getting, or you can call a cab or ask your sixteen year-old rich cousin, who might say yes if you let her come to the party.
The second thing you notice about the bartender is her hips. Well, maybe the absence of hips, how her bones just seem to slide under her skin, rippling under the surface, like a whisper you'd make out if you'd just get to lean in close enough. If you could just put an ear against the movement, you'd hear the secrets of her dark marrow.
ReplyDeleteThe third thing you notice is that she's always moving. She flies from one end of the bar to the other, stopping for precious few seconds to eye you up as you order another Miller Lite. Maybe she gives you a smile -- no, she always gives you a smile -- but maybe she'll ask how you've been, in her husky bright voice maybe she'll tell you about the paintings she sold at an art show last weekend.
The first thing you noticed wasn't realized until you noticed the rest. The other things hadn't seemed to matter at first. It's the way your husband's eyes are directed toward her. It's the way he's looking up at her over the rim of his vodka cranberry in the same second you turn to tell him something, something menial, maybe a comment about how crowded Grace's was that night.
That's when you notice the way her silvery shirt stops full inches above the lip of her jeans, the flatness there. When you notice how like a dancer she seems, leaping from person to person. The way her laugh rises above the myriad other voices competing for volume around the pool tables. The way the cheap neon lights advertising beer fall on her face in an oddly soft way, like her skin has some sort of glow underneath.
Everything goes still when you see your husband seeing someone else, because it's a look that was once familiar, a look that asks gently, a look that wants. And the bartender is frozen at the bar, looking the other way, laughing at something someone else has said, one leg lifted in the air as if landing from flight, her skin smoldering red from the Budweiser sign overhead.
In the beginning....
ReplyDeleteWell, I always knew that Raven was smart, but a perfect score on the SAT? Really? Geez, he makes a farm boy like me feel like a complete moron. I may not have gotten the Harvord genes, but I put all my effort into my work, well, most of the time, anyway. I mean, when I'm not out partying and stuff. Yea, us farm kids will get some booz from the older farm kids and throw us a rager, usually in a barn or random field, but that's beside the point. Just cause Raven has smart parents, and mine didn't finish high school, doesn't mean I should be considered stupid. Just sayin'
Yale...
ReplyDeleteWas Raven's choice, doesn't get much better than that. Me? Mediocrity Community College. It's better than nothing, but I can't help but be jealous of Raven's superior IQ. I call him my friend, but it's tough coming in second place every time. School starts in the fall, Raven is going off to big boy school, and I'll be livin' at home, with my parents, and my little brother, and all our smelly cows, and the chickens, and the big pile of shit we have to spread on all crops... Oh! And my GReat Aunt Ezmarelda, she's 102, and smells like rotten cabbage smothered in ketchup and bbq sauce. It's not pleasant, but that's beside the point, Raven's gunna make it big, and I'll probably end up a lonely farmer.
10 years have passed...
ReplyDeleteSince I last saw Raven. We were once best friends, but once he went off to Yale, we kinda lost contact. But today was our high school reunion. Turns out Raven lost it at preppy boy college. All the stress got to him and he turned into a crack head. He also went to rehab for a crystal meth addiction. He looks like he's like 50 years old. He dropped outta school and is now living with his parents. I don't mean to brag, but I moved out of my parents place, and have a nice humble abode down the street. I also run my family farm. It didn't seem like much at the time, but I'm happy I went to MCC. And I am a praud man, because The hardenst drug I have ever tried is oxycotton. I would never do any of the crazy shit like like Raven. I also have an awesome girlfriend, Betty-Sue McFillihan. Yea, she's my cousin, but she was adopted so that makes it ok.
It all Ended after...
ReplyDeleteBetty-Sue and I got married and had 3 amazing children, Teapot, Vacuum, and Bobby. Everything was goin great, for a while anyway. It wasn't till my tracker attacked me, that everything was great. It all happened when I was listining to that new Banjo Bob song "I said a' ring ting a ting ting bling bling a pong tong wong wang tang ting, A hillnbilly life for me," I just seemed to lose my sense with reality, seeing as it was such a good song. That's beside the point, anyway, I was thrown off the tractor, run over, and dragged to the fertilizer pit. Needless to say, I drowned in a big pool of feces. What a way to go!
“How to impress your boss” – By Ryan Wilk
ReplyDeleteIf you are reading this then you must be disappointed with your current salary. You must be thinking to yourself that the amount of money you make now can never possibly buy all of those fancy cars you wish you had. Perhaps it is time for a raise? Or maybe a promotion? Well with just a few easy steps, you can impress your boss enough that he or she will promote you to the highest position available. It is almost guaranteed. It doesn’t even matter what company you work for, or what position you start out in. If you make a good impression on your boss, you will be able to make as much money as you want, and with that, you could do anything. The first thing you need to do is get your boss to notice you. If you work at one of the expendable positions, chances are, your boss doesn’t even know you exist. Remember these tips will work for anyone, so even if you are a lowly janitor, you still can rise up to become your boss’s right hand man. You don’t even need any schooling. All of your colieges who are higher up on the business latter will loathe you when you climb above them. They spent years trying to get to that position, and in just a few weeks you can achieve what they have and more. Think about how cool you will be. Yep. If you just listen to these tips, you will soon be making all the money your heart desires, and all of those fancy cars will be yours.
The first thing you’ll notice about him is the fact that you can see his bones as if you were staring at a skeleton. He hasn’t eaten for days yet for some reason he still insists that he is perfectly fine. He won’t mind you staring at him, in fact he prefers it. But the sight of his bones moving will gross you out yet you simply can’t take your eyes off it. And it doesn’t help that he likes to wear only gray boxers because he claims clothes to be suffocating and down right irritating.
ReplyDeleteThe second thing you’ll notice is how he doesn’t frown at all. He thinks that tragedy doesn’t exist and that everything that happens to him is to ensure happiness. If you looked in his file, you can see that his history is littered with tragedies from his parents being killed at a young age to being beaten in some dark alleyway. He denies them all and says that they happened to some other person. Thus you can guess the reason why you are here, to get him to see past these delusions so that he is on his way being treated.
The third and probably the most important is the fact that he is a pathological liar. Do not take everything he says personally. He will try to get under your skin and make you incredible insane which is why you are the eighth doctor chosen to work here. We’ve tried countless times to figure out why he lies but so far we found nothing. That is why every time you meet with him, you will need to be very cautious. We would like for you to be successful in your work thus why I am telling you these precautions.
The police found him in an apartment with his arms and face covered in blood. He didn’t know what happened, just assumed that the victims had fallen asleep after drinking lots of wine. The polygraph tests found him to be telling the truth which contradicted with what we saw on the tapes. He indeed killed that couple while singing a childish lullaby, which we still can’t understand. I hope that you remember everything I’ve mentioned because again it will help you in treating him. You are the best doctor we could find and we are running out of time before we must lobotomize him. The city council deemed that if we can’t treat him, then we must take out parts of his brain so that he can walk out without harming anyone again. As you can see we are running out of room, so it is up to you to fix him. Good luck and I hope you are proven successful at your work.
How To Be Lazy
ReplyDeleteWhat you want to live by is the idea that everything is optional. Nothing is mandatory. Your schooling, your job, family parties, friends' birthdays, funerals——they're all optional.
As far as your excuses go: nothing elaborate. Oversleeping, sickness——you know. But the cornerstone too lazy excuses is just not admitting to knowing about the event.
"Paul died?"
Or you just simply ignore that group of people for a month and then come back a month later with a new haircut and pretend like nothing ever happened.
The second most important part is simple: never put your clothes away at night. Always to the floor with them.
Get a cat.
You know when people call you lazy, you gotta come back at them hard. I mean not too hard, don't overexert yourself. Bring up how their relationships never work because they have trust issues or that they wouldn't understand shit about you because they have been served on a platinum motherfucking platter there whole shitting life.
Sleep is the most important part of one's life. There's no such thing as a good night's rest because everyone needs at least 3 naps a day as well. IF you do go to school, work, family parties, friends' birthdays, funerals——make sure to fall asleep at some point.
Let others take care of the cat.
And never ever, if you want people to take you seriously lazy, never ever finish anyth
How to Get Locked Out of Your Room
ReplyDeleteFirst, you wake up too late for class, and have to rush around to get ready. You realize that all of your t-shirts are dirty, pick up the first one you can find on the floor. There's a giant brown stain in the bottom left corner of it, but you still have to brush your teeth.
That's when you remember that you still have to print out that paper for your class before you go so you don't even have time to look in a mirror again, let alone brush your teeth. You pat your hair down and try to get rid of the random strays that are awkwardly sticking up. Bed head is such a normal occurrence that it doesn't really matter anyway.
You check your backpack to make sure you have the book you need and you head out the door, barely remembering to turn off the light and lock the door behind you. As soon as you clicks, it hits you; your key and id card are sitting on your desk, right next to your cell phone. You spend the next seconds looking for something small and sharp to try and fiddle with the lock, hoping it'll open. The best thing you can find is a pair of scissors, which doesn't work. You spend the next couple of minutes staring hopelessly at the door, and then you realize that you're probably going to be late to class because those ten minutes you set aside to go to the computer lab, you have spent half of fruitlessly trying to open your door.
Ay mamí, I may not be da flyest playa up in dis bitch, but my fade’s on point ‘n mah kicks is dope ‘n mah tee is clean ‘n white—crisp da way it should be, chu’know? Too many fellas be comin’ tru dis jawn lookin’ whacka den crackas. But yo, I ain’t tryna front. Just tryna talk wit’chu right quick, so lemme speak mah piece. My girl just split on me. I ain’t all torn up ova dat bitch but I was gonna lay low t’night. But fuck dat noise. Slow motion’s betta dan no motion, ya dig? And chu be tinkin’ I be trippin’ right now but dis is real talk—I’m bein’ one hunnit. Yo: when I rolled in, da last ting I was tinkin ‘bout was meetin’ some fine honeys. But den I seent chu and thought chu was da baddest mamacita I eva seent—da kinda chica dat I’d wanna getta know, nam sayin? I be sittin, tinkin dat my mind’ll stay spinnin if I din’t ax chu, so I’ma tell it to ya straight. I’m feelzin’ on chu so lemme ax chu: where you sleepin at t’night?
ReplyDeleteThe last thing anyone ever noticed about Christine was her smile. Usually, they were too busy looking at her legs, her hips, her stomach, her chest, her everything to notice what a nice smile she had. She'd come into the bar, a stumbling mess of trashy clothes and cheap perfume and throw herself down on the first man to make a comment. She had no self respect, how could she? She'd been nothing but a body her whole life, nothing but a doll. I watched her from a distance, nearly cringing as she spilled half a glass of something strong onto the lap of the ass she'd acquainted herself with. At first, he'd be mad, maybe give her a threatening look. She'd dealt with this before, and knew that a drunken diversion was enough to make any half sober man forget how clumsy she'd been. She was a professional after all. Her girl friends would come and go, some would leave her there with a stranger and other times they'd pull her out before she'd make an idiot of herself. Tonight, they'd left her with a redneck that reeked of chewing tobacco and cheap beer. Classy. It was almost painful to watch. I'd thought about taking her out of there, but she would run. I was nothing but a stranger to her, and that's the way I'd always stay.
ReplyDelete