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Yaccub’s Curse

by Wrath James White

Necro Publications

2010

— | — | —

YACCUB’S CURSE © 2009 by Wrath James White

Special Thanks to Brian Keene for his unending support and guidance, to Rosie Marte for the encouragement, patience, and belief in me during the writing of this, to Christie Marie White for the encouragement and support during the rewriting, to Tod Clark, my dedicated reader for his enthusiasm and encouragement, and to Maurice Broaddus for getting it.

To Sultan, my son. In hopes that you will inherit a better world than the one I did and a life free of racism, poverty, and violence. This is for you.

— | — | —

Prologue

6,000 years ago on the island of Paean in the Aegean Sea a child was created from the genetic material harvested from the followers of an ancient geneticist from Mecca named Dr. Yaccub. The child was of a pigment many shades lighter than the Africans from whose DNA he had been cloned and his eyes were like the sky and his hair like fields of wheat. But he had been created for destruction and his birth would signify the enslavement of the tribes of Shabass.

“…This once said by a girl who couldn’t quit/ dope man please can I have another hit/ then the dope man said I don’t give a shit/ if your girl kneels down and sucks my dick.”

—NWA, “Dope Man”

««—»»

A parade of lost souls shambled up and down Germantown Avenue as the day came to an end. The destitute and drug addled, in various stages of intoxication and withdrawal crowded the street in every direction. They staggered out of bars, nodded in alleys and doorways, and paced the sidewalk, desperate for the next score, eyes filled with hunger and madness. It looked like a blaxploitation version of Night of The Living Dead.

Dealers as old as fifty and as young as ten slang little white rocks of hardened cocaine mixed with baking soda to legions of the damned. Hopelessly addicted whores gyrated their emaciated half-naked bodies trying to attract a customer with whom to share their disease. Germantown Ave was one big outdoor fleamarket for drugs and sex.

The gaudy red BMW sat idling at the curb. Its driver, a light-skinned black man with a lopsided yellow-toothed grin, leered out at the whores wandering the avenue. The passenger in the back seat was obscured by night, watching as a teenage whore with a large round ass that had somehow survived the ravages of chronic cocaine use stepped out of the shadows. Those remarkable buttocks bounced and jiggled seductively as she strolled the avenue.

She had full succulent lips that were chapped and cracked where they had burned on the end of a glass pipe and breasts that had likewise remained full and ripe. She hadn’t yet lost as much weight as the other whores on the avenue but her hygiene had fallen to utter slovenliness. Her hair was a ragged tangle of split ends and singed knaps where a hot comb had burned it down to the roots. Her breath was an exhalation from the grave as if she’d brushed her teeth with road-kill and the stench wafting from between her thighs was like she’d recently been inseminated by a corpse.

The minute she spotted the hideous gold-clustered front grille of the BMW sedan, she made a beeline for it. Even through the dense miasma of narcotics clouding her mind she could recognize a drug dealer when she saw one. Her foul breath steamed through the open window into the face of the pale grinning demon that sat behind the windshield.

“Hey, sexy, I’ll suck your dick if you got some rock.”

A ghostly hand wearing a diamond pinky ring and platinum Rolex rose up from the man’s lap holding a crack pipe loaded with little white stones of hardened cocaine.

“Get in.”

Quickly she wiggled around to the passenger side door and into the car.

“Hi, my name is Sissy,” she said, smiling wide, her eyes aflame with desire for the rock rattling around in the fire chamber of the little pipe.

“I don’t give a fuck what your name is,” the man replied. When he turned to look the prostitute in the eyes she was shocked to see his white skin and blue eyes.

“You’re a white boy?”

“What tha fuck do you care? A cock is a cock right? And a rock is a rock.” He unzipped his pants and withdrew his modest erection. Then he grabbed a handful of Sissy’s hair and shoved her head down into his lap ramming his penis past her tonsils. Sissy sucked obediently to keep from gagging as he stomped on the gas and sped off down the street.

The fire red BMW screeched into the parking lot of Lingelbach elementary school just as Sissy began to scream. Skeletal white hands held her head down as his organ exploded in her mouth, filling her throat with his warm seed. He held her head down as he continued to cum then he pinched her nose shut and shoved his cock even deeper into her throat until she choked. She gagged reflexively, her throat spasming and her stomach heaving, regurgitating into his lap as his cock swelled in her esophagus and semen spurted down her throat . He still did not release her. She began to thrash and fight against him as semen and vomit clogged her airway and the man continued to pinch her nose shut, He shoved a gun under her chin.

“If you bite me, bitch, you die that same second. You heard? Now, keep suckin’. You swallow my cum now bitch or I’ll fly your fuckin’ wig. Nasty bitch threw-up all over me. Yellow Dog, can you believe this shit?”

The driver, who was called Yellow Dog by everyone except his mother, laughed and shook his head. The white man continued applying pressure to the whore’s neck, forcing his undiminished erection deeper and deeper until he could feel her mouth pressing into his pubic hair. Her eyes were wild, gasping for air, as he tucked the gun back into its holster and pinched her nose shut again. She punched at his thighs as tears wept from her eyes and she swallowed her own thick vomit and bile, almost throwing up again as it slid down her throat in warm nauseating chunks.

He let go of her nose and raised the crack pipe to his lips.

“Fire this shit up for me, Yellow Dog. I want to get high while this bitch sucks me off.”

“Damn, Scratch, you got this bitch’s vomit all over you. I ain’t touchin’ that shit. It’s all over your hands too!”

“Fuck it. I’ll do it myself then.”

Even through her agony her eyes tracked the pipe as it fluttered above her, wanting to lose herself in its vapors. Scratch laughed, a shrill maniacal cackle, as he released her head in order to bring the disposable lighter to the bottom of the pipe and inhale deeply of the narcotic fumes.

Sissy’s eyes rolled in her skull, wide with shock, as she raised her head from the white man’s lap and gasped for breath. She fought back the spasm in her stomach that threatened to let loose with another bout of vomiting.

“You mutherfucker! You almost killed me!”

“I guess I didn’t try hard enough then.”

He inhaled deeply and the crack pipe flared. He removed a .45 automatic from a shoulder holster as the cocaine roared through his veins. Scratch’s eyes glowed like halogen lamps.

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