Freaky Good Man

Ok, this is a bit different. A guy posted this on a message board I check out from time to time and I thought this was a very entertaining. The guy swears it’s a true story. It’s worth the read.

AZ the Aziatic blares in the speakers. “You know the story how the thugs live and worry/ Ducked down in car seats, heats mandatory.” As I pull out of parking lot of the Smoove and turn right I think back to the last time I was in this area two days ago. The street was cordoned off with police tape because of an incident where a police cruiser crashed into another vehicle. I took a detour upon seeing flashing lights fearing that all the commotion was a random sobriety checkpoint. My head was much clearer this time as I accelerated to 40 mph and cranked the volume to its max level. I had left the club early after texting my favorite dancer and learning that she was working downtown at Magic City. I didn’t feel like making the drive and decided to resort to plan B. Plan B was a ho that advertised her services on a local chat line that I contacted earlier in the day. I always felt a little uncomfortable about not being in control of the situation when I went to a Shorty’s crib for an incall and this particular one had my spidey senses tingling. Oh well, if some grimey shit goes down then I probably deserve it I think and laugh to myself. I’ve been struggling with my addiction to hoes and strippers for some time. I used to keep track of how much money I wasted on the services of women from Amsterdam to Argentina but had long lost count. Every man has his vice, for some it is alcohol, crack, or gambling. My Achillies heel had always been pussy for sell. This is the last time I tell myself for the thousandth time and re-focus.

As I pull up to the apartment building I pull out my page plus phone purchased for instances when I don’t desire my primary cell number to be exchanged. I had learned my lesson in the past and now each of my alter-egos possesses his own cell phone number and e-mail address. My impending sense of discomfort grows slightly as she tells me that she will be down shortly with a friend. I briefly contemplate pulling off, that is until I see her friend. Damn, I think to myself, this bitch is built like a brick shithouse. My original contact had proven to be disappointing however, it was obvious that she had lied about her age, body dimensions and overall appearance. As I walk up the stairs and make small talk I observe my surroundings for potential set-ups, law enforcement activity and an egress route all the while trying to determine whether or not “friend with ass” would be down for my soon to come indecent proposal. The ideal scenario would involve ugly hoe understanding that she was not what I was looking for and accepting a small amount of cash to just shut up and chill out while it went down with her girl. Tonight was not ideal and the best I could manage was talking ugly girl into a threesome. Oh well, she wanted her cash and I wanted friend with ass. It was her place and her share was less than taking friend with ass to a hotel room so money was exchanged and clothes started to drop. Thats when the phone rang.

So here I am in the bedroom and I’ve got friend with ass all to myself. If all goes well I can fuck her and be getting dressed by the time ugly hoe is done with her phone conversation. What I heard from the other room however was not encouraging, I could only make out pieces of what ugly girl was saying but was pretty sure that I heard in a whispered tone, “baby daddy,” “who told him?” “Niggas from Buckeye” and “on they way here.” Great I think as I cut my session short with friend with ass and pull my pants on. I gotta go I say much to her bewilderment. She must have thought I had ESP as seconds after slipping into my Nikes ugly girl bursts in and repeats
“you gotta go.”
“Somebody told my baby daddy they saw a nigga walk up in here, he on his way here now with a car full of Niggas.”
“Really?” I try to act surprised, but probably just came off as sarcastic.
“Can I get my money back?” I ask
“Hell naw Nigga, you can get the fuck out!” She screams.
Now I’m pissed, this bitch has my money in her pocket and I didn’t even see a titty.
“So thats how you gon play a Nigga? Don’t call me when you need to make some cash in the future.” Not that I would answer mind you…
“Listen, you better go or you liable to get killed. You ain’t gettin yo money back though. Thats just the game sweetie.”
So now I’m pretty confident that this is not a set-up. I’m good at reading people and the look on her face was fear of her baby daddy beating her ass for catching me in her apartment. Plus not even this hoe is stupid enough to try setting me up in her own place. I had decided that she was not very intelligent already but her hard-scrabble demeanor exuded a wary street sense. She wanted to make some quick cash and her plan was back-firing on her. Turns out I was only half right.

So I walk down the stairs and out to my car waiting on the curb. Hop in and turn the radio on. I reach under the seat and pull out my girl Nina, Chambering a Black Talon and setting her in my lap just in case. I should have pulled off but I really wanted friend with ass so I waited patiently. The expectant car full of pants sagging, du rag wearing, Black and Mild chain smoking idiots pulls up just as the post Indians game coverage gives way to Coast to Coast AM. This is the second time in as many weeks I’ve found myself listening to this weird shit. Oh well, that kind of night. I watch through tinted windows as the thugs get out, light up their customary cigars and stand around smoking them while baby daddy and two others head upstairs to kick my ass. He emerges 15 min later, his friends pile into his car and they drive off. I reason that he went upstairs and ugly girl lied her ass off. Thug boy figures that his crackhead lookout/source of information was mistaken and leaves after the false alarm. After all, he has more drugs to sell. When I’m satisfied that the Niggas are long gone I phone ugly girl again. She relates that she is scared of her baby daddy and will not risk me coming back up. That was fine with me as I had been in the car listening to swine flu conspiracy theories and formulating Plan C. Which called for me leaving with friend with ass. One catch, ugly girl would not allow me to speak with her unless I agreed to pay her more money. I told her to send her friend down to collect the money. I also instruct her to send the money I already paid her down because all I have is hundreds. I need that change and I’ll send the hundred back up. 5 minutes later friend with ass sashays over to the car and hops in the passenger seat. I go to work.
“Man, your friend almost got me into a lot of trouble huh?”
“I guess, that hoe stupid.”
“You think that dude would have done something?”
“I don’t know, maybe…”
“Is he violent? How long have you known him?”
“I just met that nigga, I don’t really know him at all.”
“I thought he was your friends baby daddy.”
“That ho is not my friend, I just met her. She been scamming Niggas all day. Taking they money then saying her dude was on the way over.”
Damn, so I was set up after all I think.
“So he’s in on it too?”
“No, he actually came over this time. Earlier she was sending Niggas downstairs and then calling and telling them she was calling the cops if they didn’t leave. They got scared and drove off. I’m scared one of these Niggas is gon come back and hurt us.”
“And you got the money right?”
“Yeah, right here.”
“And you don’t really want to give it back to her right?”
“Well… I’m”
I finished her thought for her as I switched the phone off and threw my car into gear. We drove around talking for a little while and made our way over to the E 55th st Marina where we went for a walk and eventually fucked on the deck of somebody’s boat. I know, I know. After getting her number and dropping her off all the way up in Shaker Hts. (So much for saving myself a drive) I switched the phone back on and to my surprise saw several missed calls and voice-mails awaiting. Apparently, ugly chick was salty that we had made off with “her” money and had notified the police that I kidnapped her friend. I had better bring her back or else. Here’s where the bitch fucked up. She gave the number to her dude who left a voice-mail about shooting up my entire neighborhood (even though he had no clue where that might be) So what do I do? Call homeboy back and listen to numerous threats to my life while patiently waiting to get a word in edgewise. When he had finally vented and I got a chance to speak, I asked him exactly what he thought was going on. He then proceeded to re-tell his girls tall tale about me coming by, snatching up ole girl and jetting. She then allegedly received a frantic phone call from her friend about me beating her ass and trying to rape her. I called up friend with ass who told me that she wouldn’t answer the phone when ugly ho called and begged me not to tell her where I had dropped her off. I deduced that ugly ho was utilizing a scare tactic to get me to reveal information about friend with ass so that she could seek retribution. It didn’t help that she called me from a restricted number claiming to be friend with ass’ concerned sister (even though she only knew her stripper stage name) and wanted to know if she was ok. With a horrible attempt to disguise her voice mind you. Back to my phone call to baby daddy drug boy.
“None of this seems strange to you dawg?”
“What the fuck you mean?”
I then proceeded describe in detail the layout of her apartment and what she was wearing.
“Yo girl was selling pussy on the chat line dog.”
“You lyin Nigga.”
“Nope, I fucked yo baby mamma for 40 bucks.” I lied
“Come on dog, tell me you lying. Angel, what this Nigga talkin about?”
“Yo dude saw me go in the apartment, didn’t he call you”
“HELL YEAH, THATS RIGHT!!! BITCH YOU SAID WASN’T NO NIGGAS UP HERE!!!” Just then I heard a resonating slap cut short her screamed lies of protest.
“Thanks Nigga, you cool in my book. I’m bout to beat this bitches ass.”
“No my friend, thank you.”
As I sit down on my couch still smiling I tune into ESPN and crack a cold Budweiser. Then I pull out my phone and call up ugly hoe. To my surprise she answers. She is still crying and the new slur in her speech betrays the fact that she either is missing several teeth or at least has a badly swollen jaw.
“You ain’t have to do me like that.” She manages between sobs.
I sat back and smiled, “thats just the game sweetie.”