Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang

He must’a heard sumthin’ ’cause he let me go. I raced in my room and shut my door. I buried my face into my pillow, cryin’. A few minutes later, my door swung open, the light switch was flipped up and Juanita was in my room, foamin’ at the mouth.

“Bitch, what da fuck you doin’ up this time’a night, hunh?”

“I-I-I,” I stuttered, wipin’ my eyes, “…was watch—”

She cut me off, screamin’. “When it’s time for ya ass to be in bed, that’s the fuck where I ’pect ya ass to stay ’til it’s time for ya ass to wake the fuck up for school! Not sneakin’ ’round this muthafuckin’ house listenin’ to what the fuck I’m doin!”

My eyes widened as I looked up at her. I was shocked at how crazy she looked. Do you think that bitch asked why my eyes were red and swollen, or why the fuck I was cryin’? No! The only thing that cum-hungry ho was worried ’bout was why I was standin’ in the bathroom doorway lookin’ at her man takin’ a piss. Can you believe that shit? That’s what that snake-ass nigga told her when he went back into the bedroom, wakin’ her up. And the dizzy bitch believed ’im.

“What da fuck you doin’ lookin’ at my man’s dick, hunh?”

“I wasn’t, Mommy,” I said. “He-he tried…”

“Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me! I should knock the shit outta ya sneaky, lyin’ ass. If you ever do some muthafuckin’ shit like that again I’m a beat ya fresh ass ’til it bleeds.”

Then that dirty muthafucka had the audacity to walk in my room, smirkin’. “C’mon, baby,” he said to her, eyein’ me all sly ’n shit, “I think she gets the point.”

“Well, she fuckin’ better,” she snapped, cuttin’ her eyes at me. “’Cause the next time it won’t be no muthafuckin’ talkin’. It’s gonna be my fist in her ass.” She rolled her eyes at me as he slowly tugged her by the arm, pullin’ her outta the room. Then he fuckin’ glanced over his shoulder at me and winked, closin’ the door behind him.

That stinkin’ bitch walked ’round the house for almost three weeks servin’ a bitch ’tude like I was tryna steal her muthafuckin’ bum-ass nigga. Fuckin’ pathetic! So do you really think I’ma break my neck and give a fuck ’bout sum bitch who turned her muthafuckin’ back on me, not once…not twice, but all’a my muthafuckin’ life?

I ain’t ’bout to be stressed over sum shit I can’t change. Not today! I take one last, deep toke, then put out the tip, tossin’ it over the railin’. I spark up another round, sit for a hot minute wit’ my eyes closed, puffin’. I’m so over that hatin’-ass bitch, I think, gettin’ up and goin’ back into the bedroom. I leave the balcony doors open, allow the breeze to sweep through the room as I make plans to get showered and go out and do what I do best. Shop!

CHAPTER SEVEN

Thick nose…thick lips…cocky muhfucka…got dat swagga… make’a bitch wanna open up da thighs…let ’im push in da tip…stretch out da hips…nut on da nigga’s dick…but’a slick bitch ain’t tryna get played… gotta keep it on da low…move in slow…give da nigga just enough…’fore he ends up slayed…

“Nigga, you wanna get my pussy’s attention, then you gonna need to come a lil’ harder than that,” I snap at this arrogant fuck talkin’ ’bout how he wanna bang my guts up. I swear, this nigga be comin’ at me all kinda ways. Mmmph. Fucked up thing, a bitch can’t even front like I ain’t diggin’ the shit ’cause I am. Still, he’s the type’a muhfucka a bitch gotta keep on a real short leash. Otherwise his ass’ll be shittin’ ’n pissin’ on me e’ery chance he gets. And I ain’t havin’ it. “I don’t know what kinda bitches you be dickin’ wit’, but I ain’t one of ’em. So come correct when you addressin’ me, muhfucka.”

He laughs. “Yo, beautiful, I’m only fuckin’ wit’ you.”

“Nigga, I ain’t laughin’. And I damn sure ain’t fuckin’ wit’ you. I’m dead-ass.”

“Yo, ma, my bad.”

“My bad, hell. You real extra wit’ it, nigga.”

“Yo, for real, ma, you need to chill. It ain’t that serious. On some real shit, I mean no harm. But, I ain’t gonna front. You snappin’ makes a muhfucka horny. You got my shit bricked.”

I suck my teeth. “What eva, muhfucka. Glad I can amuse ya nasty ass.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah; yo, keep it funky wit’ a nigga. You diggin’ me; just say it.”

This time I laugh. “Nigga, puhleeeze. Save that shit for them dumb-ass bitches you got wettin’ ya cock. I’m not checkin’ for ya conceited ass.”

“Yeah, aiight, that’s what ya mouth says. But I know better. I’ma have you callin’ me Daddy…Daddy Long Stroke, to be exact, in a minute.”

I laugh harder. “Muhfucka, understand this: you’ll be eatin’ ya nut outta my pussy ’n ass ’n beggin’ me to finga fuck you in that tight, muscular ass of yours before I eva part these dick suckas to call you some shit like that.”

He joins in my laughter. “Yo, Kat…word up, you funny as hell, ma. You know I’m only fuckin’ wit’ you, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…whaaaat eva.”

“But I’m sayin’, yo…when we gonna chill? This phone shit is gettin’ played. A muhfuckas tryna see you in the flesh. I was hopin’ we could meet up for a bite to eat, then maybe kick back ’n blaze a bit.”

I grin at the idea of burnin’. It dawns on me I haven’t smoked since early last night. I glance at the time. Its 11:46 a.m. “Nigga, you ain’t ready for a chick like me,” I tease.

“Yeah, okay, ma. Think that shit if you want. A nigga like me was born ready.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” I say, headin’ downstairs to the kitchen. I decide to fix myself some sauteed spinach wit’ sundried tomatoes ’n garlic.

“And it is what it is. All you gotta do is say the word and it’s on.”

“Hmmmmm, that’s what ya mouth says. If you was really tryna get at me you woulda made it pop by now.”

“Shiiiiit, how can I when you keep shuttin’ a muhfucka down at e’ery turn? A muhfucka comes at you right, you go left. I come at you from the left, you snap to the right. It’s like you want me to say ‘fuck it’ or sumthin’. Yo, is that what you want? I mean, on some real shit, if you want me to stop fuckn’ wit’ you I will.”

The phone goes silent.

I know this muhfucka didn’t just hang up on me. “Hello?”

“I’m still here, yo. I’m waitin’ on an answer. You keep tryna play a muhfucka like I’m some duck-ass nigga. All bullshit aside, what’s good wit’ you?”

I sigh. Okay, I ain’t gonna sit here ’n front wit’ ya’ll, there’s sumthin’ ’bout this nigga that gotta bitch curious. He’s so fuckin’ rude. He’s nasty. He’s a womanizer. And he ain’t no muthafuckin’ good. But, he’s oh sooooo damn chocolate and chiseled and muthafuckin’ fine that a bitch wanna have a lil’ taste. I wanna see the nigga buck- naked; see if he’s swingin’ one’a them juicy Mandingo cocks. But, fuck that. I ain’t ’bout to make shit easy for the nigga, either.

“Look, impress me. You wanna get in these drawers; you wanna taste this pussy, then you gonna need to come hard, or get the fuck on.”

He laughs. “Yo, I stay hard and I can fuck hard so all that shit you sayin’ ain’t nuthin’ but a thang, baby.”

I huff. “Nigga, what the fuck I tell you ’bout callin’ me baby?”

“Yo, chill,” he says, laughin’. “I’ll call you what the fuck I want, ya heard?”

“Oh, noooo, nigga, you got the wrong one. Hear this…” I disconnect his ass. A few seconds later, he sends me a text. LMAO. U mad funny, yo. U got that off. But know this, all dat shit did was get my dik hard.

I text back. Fuuuuuuuuck u!

Two minutes later, there’s another text from this nut. I’m tryn but u keep runnin’ from da dik. I text back: lol, whateva

Once my food is finished cookin’, I place e’erything on a plate, then sit at the table, flippin’ through the latest issue of Urban Ink. I’ve been givin’ some thought to gettin’ a cute lil’ tattoo on my right