Daddy Long Stroke

on some domestic violence-type shit, feel me?

Fuck what ya heard. You can pop all the shit you want. But don’t get up in my space, talkin’ wit’ ya hands. And do not put ya muthafuckin’ hands on me. And this Looney Tune has already proven the last time I was wit’ her that she likes to get it in when shit ain’t goin’ her way—like when she threw an ashtray at my head for tellin’ her not to fuckin’ question me ’bout where I’ve been.

“Hol’ up, let me get some clothes on,” I tell her, shuttin’ the door in her face, then lockin’ it. She bangs on it.

“I’m not fucking goin’ anywhere, so you might as well open up this door, Alley Cat. Otherwise, I’ma keep fucking banging until you do. I wanna talk to you.”

I need a fuckin’ blunt. I snatch up the half-smoked blunt in the ashtray, and spark up. I yell at her through the door. “I said I’ll be out in a minute. So stop bangin’ on my muthafuckin’ door.”

“Well, hurry up.”

I finish gettin’ my smoke on. Then when I’m done, I open the door—ten minutes later—and this pigeon is still standin’ in the same spot wit’ her arms folded. I lock the door, closin’ it behind me. “Aiight, let’s talk,” I say to her, brushin’ past her goin’ toward the stairs. She follows behind me. Now, had I been thinkin’, I woulda had her go down the stairs—first, just in case she had a weapon and tried to stab or shoot me in the back, feel me? The bitch is one screw from crazy so anything is possible wit’ her. But I’m so pressed to get this ho outta the house in case she goes off and starts bustin’ up shit that I jump dead in front of her and race down the stairs.

I open the front door. “Let’s sit outside and talk.”

“Why can’t we talk in here?” she questions, stoppin’ in the middle of the livin’ room and puttin’ her hand up on her hip.

’Cause I wanna talk to ya unstable ass outside on the muthafuckin’ porch in front of witnesses, that’s why. “’Cause I need some fresh air,” I tell her, double-checkin’ my front pocket to make sure I have my cell on me. I stand wit’ the door open, waitin’ for her ass to walk out. I’m relieved when she does.

I step down from offa the porch, then take a seat. She decides to stand in front of me wit’ her arms folded tight ’round her chest, like she’s scared to let sumthin’ go.

“Okay, so talk,” I say, ice-grillin’ her.

“I wanna know why you stopped calling and returning my calls?”

Umm, you dizzy-ass ding bat that should be obvious: ’Cause ya ass is muthafuckin’ craaaaazy! I sigh. “It wasn’t workin’ out.”

“Oh really, since when?”

What the fuck?! Uh, duh, since I stopped callin’ ya dumb, lazy, dick-suckin’ ass. “Look, like I said, it wasn’t workin’ out.”

“Humph. Mighty funny it was workin’ out when I was lettin’ you ride around in my car and come in and outta my apartment, but the minute I check you on something, it’s not ‘working out.’”

“No, the minute you tried to get at me on some rah-rah type shit, throwin’ ashtrays ’n shit. That’s when it was no longer workin’. I ain’t wit’ all that extra ghetto bullshit.”

“So, you just stop fucking with me, instead of talking it out.”

I tilt my head. Stare at this fuckin’ broad long and hard. “Are you serious? Talk what out? A muhfucka who’s tryna build wit’ ya ass is talkin’ it out, not a nigga who is straight smashin’ you.”

I feel my cell vibratin’ and pull it outta my pocket. Lahney texts me: Cum through and ram that big, black cock up in me.

“I let you into my heart and this is how you fucking treat me…”

I text back: LOL, you don’t really want it. This dick’ll have ya ass cryin’ again.

She sucks her teeth. “I can’t believe you’d pull out your fucking phone and start texting while I’m standing here trying to talk to you. How fucked up is that?”

Lahney texts: Whateva, punk! U cumming to beat this pussy up or what.

I shrug. “You tell me. You the one actin’ like a desperate housewife, huntin’ a nigga down ’n shit.”

She tsks me. “Desperate? Nigga, puhleeeze. I’m coming to you like a grown woman, trying to resolve whatever has gone wrong between us.”

I text Lahney back: Yeah, I got ya punk, aiight. 11.5-inches worth. What time u want it?

I look at Sherria. “Yo, check this out. There’s nuthin’ to resolve. How many times I gotta tell you, there was no us. We was fuckin’, that’s it. You wasn’t my girl. I wasn’t ya man. And I never promised you a future wit’ a rose garden. It was straight dickin’ you down. If you allowed ya’self to catch feelin’s, then that shit’s on you. So don’t come at me wit’ all the extras. If you wanna come at me like a woman, then take it for what it was, a fuck. And…step.”

Lahney texts: NOW!

“I know all that. But still, I thought you were different.”

I look out into the street, let what she’s said linger in the air, while she’s standin’ in front of me lookin’ all pathetic ’n shit. I thought you were different. I almost wanna laugh at her ass. Hell yeah, I’m muthafuckin’ different! Let’s see. I ain’t ever spit on her, smack her up, or use her face and body as an ashtray, puttin’ cigarettes ’n shit out on her. I ain’t ever fuck her sister—not that I would ’cause the bitch looks handicapped to me. I know, I know, you think a muhfucka like me will fuck anything. Well, news-flash: A nigga got standards. I might fuck a buncha hoes, but a bitch who looks like she belongs in the Special Olympics ain’t my flava, feel me?

So what if I took her whip and dipped off to get my dick piped out? The first time I did the shit and didn’t come back ’til two hours later, she shoulda made it her business to not give me her keys again. And that goes for the three other times. But she didn’t. And so what if I ran her wallet? She bought what she wanted to buy. I never pressed her for shit. She tried to buy my attention and she wanted to have this dick at whatever costs. No chick wit’ an ounce of common sense is gonna keep lettin’ a muhfucka keep takin’ from her. But she did, so it is what it is.

I text back: Give me an hour. Then bring my attention back to Sherria. I can tell she’s strugglin’ to keep herself from blowin’ her top. And, on some real shit, I’m glad as hell that I got her ass outside in broad daylight wit’ neighbors ’n shit ’round to be witness to anything she might try ’n do. Don’t get shit twisted. I’m not scared of her, but I am scared of what the fuck I’ma do if she does try to set it off.

Lahney texts: See u then. Oh, and bring da Magnums. I’m all out.

This trick-ass, I think, placin’ my phone back in my pocket. I’m not fuckin’ wit’ her today.

I look her dead in her eyes, then finally say, “Well, I’m not.”

She looks hurt, shiftin’ from one foot to the other. “I hope you know you’re real fucked up.”

I stand up. Brush the back of my sweats off. “Okay, so now that you know that, there’s no need to keep wastin’ my time or yours.” I reach into my pants pocket, pull out my keys, remove her house-key from ’round my key ring, then hand it to her. She stares at my hand before snatchin’ it from my hand. I frown. “Is there sumthin’ else?”

She glares at me. Starts breathin’ heavy, fightin’ back what looks to be tears in her eyes. Or a rageful fit. “Yeah, motherfucker,” she snarls through clenched teeth, “You ain’t shit, you arrogant bastard!”

Before I can catch myself, I snap, “Bitch, you snore, and you leave your muthafuckin’ raggedy-ass panties in the middle of the fuckin’ floor, but you tryna come at my neck. Fuck outta here.”

“Fuck you! I hate your ass!”

I shrug, walkin’ back inside the house. “You don’t hate me, baby. You hate yourself,” I say, shuttin’ the door behind me, leavin’ her standin’ there lookin’ wounded and lost.

Two hours later, I get back from smashin’ Lahney out. Yeah, I know I said I wasn’t fuckin’ wit’ her today, but a hard-ass dick will change a muhfucka’s mind in a heartbeat. So I went over and served her up some dick, then dipped. Fuck all that layin’ ’round, cuddlin’ up shit wit’ her ass. She wasn’t hittin’ a nigga wit’ no paper, so there was definitely no need for any extended stays. Feel me? But, as I was leavin’, she caught me off guard when she slid me a key to her spot.

“What’s this for?” I asked her as she handed them to me.

“It’s for here. I want you to be able to come through anytime you want.”

“Oh, word? Why?”