Chapter 9 #5
“This is som’ mighty fine parkin’. I’m finna step on these tires.
I suggest y’all buff asses do the same. Not finna suck my stomach an’ dick in just to get up this mountain of fuckin’ steps.
Who thought to put this many gotdamn cement blocks up this bitch anyway?
” I fussed, stepping on the thick band, mud tires.
“This day finna be epic.” Kingdon chuckled as I hopped from Mona’s front driver’s tire like a jack-in-the-box.
“Show is. Finna walk through this bitch, doing the beat-it-up dance wit’ a lil wiggle of my neck to the right. Then, I’mma cha cha to the kitchen. Them blunts got me hungrier than Azaria after she don’ woke up from her noon nap.” I smiled, not giving a damn about ringing the doorbell.
Touching the doorknob and turning it to the right, I cheesed. “An unlocked door always been my favorite.”
Walking into the modern on the outside but dripping in the 1980s décor, I sniffed heavily. The amazing aroma, light chatter, and the clinking of utensils hitting plates to my left made me smile, squat, do the beat-it-up dance, and hop to my left.
“Let me see you shake itttttt! It can be them pistols, that ass, that bacon, them French toast sticks, or simply them sticks! Shake that shit! Shake that shit!” I sang with King South’s “Table Top” beat running through my head.
“Them niggas wild!” The Quad Ts cheered, looking in my direction as their statement informed me that the twins were on the same time as I was.
“Where my pregnant fiancée?” I hollered excitedly, stepping further toward the kitchen.
“Spankin’ a nigga in the face wit’ his grandma’s bottom teeth.” Thames laughed as the twins howled.
“Gotdamn, this day is wild as fuck.” King chuckled as my phone blasted a song that made me shoot upright and stare at my device as if it were possessed.
“You big black motherfucka meet me with that gotdamn phone! That’s that bitch, Ms. Dorothy callin’!
I told that slop mouth bitch … when I dragged her ass out of that hole, if she dialed that gotdamn number one mo’ time, me an’ these twins gon’ beat her motherfuckin’ ass!
” Mona yelled as a chair shuffled and a deep-toned nigga painfully shouted ouch.
“Oh, shit,” the twins held out as The Quad Ts rushed to hop on the counter.
Just as they moved swiftly, so did my sports bra-wearing fiancée and the twins.
I was stuck in place, wondering why Ms. Dorothy’s number was programmed on my phone.
I took it out when Mona stuffed a great deal of her bra in my mouth while choking me and telling me to take out all the numbers of the bitches I sent nudes to, fucked, and stripped for money.
That was two months into us fucking around.
When Mona slid in front of me as if she was gunning for the homerun base, she swatted me with a torn pink fly swatter. Nastily, she yelled, “Gimme that gotdamn phone, nigga!”
Rushing to hand it to her, I walked backward to keep the roach and fly killer off my fine ass skin.
Disgustingly, I hollered, “Stop hittin’ me wit’ all that roach, ant, an’ fly guts an’ shit.
You know my skin sensitive as fuck, Mona.
Get this ugly ass phone. I took that number outta my phone. I’on know how it got back in there.”
As she snatched my phone and slid her pinky finger across the answer choice, she snarled, “I put this ugly bitch’s number back in yo’ phone not long after I dragged her to her grandson’s vehicle the other night. I dared her to call it … while I slammed her head on the seat.”
“My God. Look at my Mona.” An elderly lady giggled as Mona glared at me and said her peace to Ms. Dorothy.
“Bitch, when I’m done handling business. Call all yo’ grandchurren. I’m comin’. It’s just gon’ be me. I’on need no fuckin’ army but hoe you do. Lips closed,” Mona snarled, eyes filled with fire, hatred, and jealousy.
Slowly, I walked backward and said, “Baby, I ain’t do nothin’ nih. You did this shit. This all on you.”
That motherfucka curled her fingers into her palms and swatted my face so harshly and repeatedly with that fly swatter that I screamed like a lil bitch.
I stumbled over my feet while trying to defend my face.
The fuckas in the kitchen and to my left laughed.
Mona bat my ass down with the fly swatter while saying, “You ain’t had no business fuckin’ them old hoes the way you did!
Nih, they asses hooked an’ side eyein’ me.
I’on like that shit. I told yo’ ass one too many times …
them old hoes, especially Ms. Dorothy, gon’ see a side of me that no one needs to see!
I’m tryin’ to bury the bitch I’m ashamed to be.
The one who ain’t got no sense an’ can’t comprehend or read that damn well!
I’on wanna be this slang talkin’ bitch when I’m angry!
Because I don’t want to be this gotdamn angry!
I’m tryin’ to elevate an’ those 1945s pussies is fuckin’ up my elevation ‘cause you don’ flung that cloaked dick up in ‘em! Get yo’ ass up offa that old ass rug that ain’t seen a washin’ machine since I made Dropo’s brother shit on it when I slid that dildo in his ass ten years ago …
fo’ thinkin’ he could play wit’ me like I was a gotdamn test dummy!
How the fuck you ain’t looked in yo’ fuckin’ wallet?
You had me scared that you ain’t want these muffin mouth suckas I’m pregnant wit’!
Start checkin’ yo’ shit regularly, big, cloaked dick bastard you! Get yo’ ass offa this carpet, August!”
“How? You beatin’ me back to birth, gotdamn it!” I hollered, balling up to protect my face, when I felt a dried fly wing on my lip.
“Oooh, my God! Y’all get that nigga off that damn rug befo’ he need all kinda shots that ain’t been invented yet!” Thiago howled in laughter.
As my angry fiancée stopped hitting me with the fly swatter, she hissed, “Get in that damn kitchen an’ eat yo’ fuckin’ breakfast. Kingdon an’ King, get in that kitchen an’ do the damn same.
I ain’t got time fo’ y’all’s women to be in my fuckin’ face ‘bout why y’all ain’t ate!
We all gon’ be in a fuckin’ hole! An’ another motherfuckin’ thing …
August an’ my gotdamn household on fuckin’ punishment fo’ three weeks.
Bet not shit go on. We gon’ barely fuckin’ make it! ”
The twins tipped their heads at my fiancée, cleared their throats, and jogged into the kitchen. Scrambling to my feet, I knew Mona was beyond mad at me. She spilled shit that she didn’t want anyone to know. For that, I had to apologize for not looking in my wallet as a man should.
The Quad Ts faces were wet as Thiago said, “Oooh, shit, I ain’t never heard a woman say her household on punishment fo’ three weeks. Keep her ass from ‘round my guh. I can’t live without my brothers an’ Momma.”
Shid, if you try me like I’m a fuckin’ toy … yo’ ass ain’t gon’ be ‘round her. You an’ yo’ brothers gon’ be in a hospital, strugglin’ to live.
“That’s what phones fah. Quad Ts, after them goat mouth niggas finish eatin’ an’ mixin’ an’ minglin’ wit’ the elders, it’s gon’ be time to tie up my brothers an’ Dropo, put them in tarp, cut the mouth part open, so they can breathe, an’ toss they ass in one of ‘em trucks. Then, we headed to the next destination. My parents’ house,” Mona sassed as I walked off, feeling disgusted but observant.
“Bet, lil captain.” They nodded as the twins washed their hands while facing the sink.
“Look at me, Mona,” Thiago said seriously as I slid my eyes to them and stepped behind the twins.
“Yeah.” She sighed heavily, looking at the comical nigga who knew when to tone down his goofiness or amp up his charm.
“You heated. Calm down. You pregnant wit’ twins.
That’s som’ we shoulda known while you was runnin’, slingin’ grenades, an’ draggin’ niggas like they weightless.
Don’t pull that shit again. We need to know all conditions to make sho’ we got you covered an’ return you to yo’ family in the same fuckin’ condition you left in.
That’s strike one. You only got one mo’ befo’ I turn up on yo’ ass like a brother should.
It seem you ain’t never had one of those.
So, guess who got fo’ niggas as yo’ brothers nih, an’ I dare yo’ buff back nigga to say som’.
I’mma tell Momma he was in her kitchen wit’ me when her key lime pie an’ that whole bottle of Taylor Port went fuckin’ missin’ two weeks ago.
Nih, to the real issue that got you lookin’ ashamed, embarrassed, an’ unable to look at us as you once had.
I couldn’t understand an’ read that well either.
My mind stayed on the go. Shid, it still do.
I will misread som’ shit an’ flip over a fuckin’ table.
Mad ‘cause I ain’t comprehend it. You got a whole team.
Open yo’ mouf an’ tell what you need. Make this my first an’ last time tellin’ yo’ ass that.
I’on know why you can’t comprehend or read well, an’ honestly it ain’t a big deal.
It can be solved. Hold yo’ fuckin’ head up.
Boss bitches keep they head upright rain, sleet, hail, an’ snow.
Go outside an’ collect yo’ thoughts,” he said, making me see that he wasn’t out to get me from a decade-old threat.
Good. A war wasn’t needed. The city wouldn’t sleep well once I was done bodyin’ The Quad Ts.