Daddy Long Stroke

“And you’re using them for whatever you can get out of ’em.”

I laugh at her. “Ma, I’m single. I have no kids. And I’m not lookin’ for a relationship. I’m just chillin’. I’m not hurtin’ anyone. As far as I see it, it’s a mutually satisfyin’ arrangement wit’ any broad I get wit’. They want sumthin’ from me and, nine-times-out-of-ten, I’m gonna deliver it—for a price, of course.”

“Oh, please. Any woman dumb enough to accept that damn shit is a stone-cold fool.”

“Well, most of ’em are.”

She sucks her teeth, rollin’ her eyes, knowin’ what I say is truth. “Well, that may be so. But, your ass is still asking for trouble. You’re using these women and it isn’t right.”

I take a deep breath. On some real shit, I wanna bring it to her raw. Let her know that I. Don’t. Give. A. Hot. Fuck…’bout none of these silly-ass broads out here, ’specially the ones who care ’bout dumb shit like the size of a nigga’s dick, or the size of a muhfucka’s feet and hands. And believe me. Any bitch who comes outta her grill askin’ if I gotta big dick gets dragged through the muthafuckin’ mud, real talk. These bitches will know that I’m fuckin’ other chicks and still give me the keys to their cars, their cribs, bank cards, Family First cards, and e’ery muthafuckin’ thing else. It’s all because I gotta long, thick, black dick loaded wit’ a buncha hot, creamy nut for that ass ’n throat. But keepin’ shit real, all a big dick does is make an already dumb-ass bitch dumber. So if anything, a dumb, low-self-esteem-havin’ bitch should be tryna stay far the fuck away from a nigga like me. ’Cause if she doesn’t, then her muthafuckin’ ass is gonna get slayed and played, real talk. I’ma fuck her silly-ass into a muthafuckin’ coma. And if I see any sign of weakness, I’ma take her retarded ass straight to the cleaners. And that’s what it is.

My cell rings. I pull it from offa my hip, glancin’ at the screen. Fuckin’ Tamera’s nutty-ass, again. I sigh, hittin’ Ignore. It rings again. This is that bullshit, word up. I answer. “Yo, what the fuck?!”

Mom raises her brow, squints her eyes. I shrug.

“Oh, so I see you on some funny-style shit, now. But it’s all good.”

“Ain’t nuthin’ funny-style ’bout not bein’ beat for you. So what the fuck you want? ” Moms glares at me. I put my hands up, and mouth, “My bad, Ma.” She gets up and starts puttin’ the food away.

“Oh, so you ain’t beat for me now.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“You real fucked up; you know that, right?” she says, smackin’ in my ear.

“And you a real bird, so what’s ya point?”

“Fuck you, nigga!”

“Choke on my nut,” I say, snappin’ the phone shut. Fuckin’ smut!

Moms turns to look at me. “You must really want me to slap the shit outta you.”

I wanna laugh, knowin’ she’s only poppin’ shit. “My bad, Ma.”

She narrows her eyes and twists her lips, but says nuthin’. She goes back to flittin’ ’round the kitchen, finishes puttin’ e’erything in the ’fridge, then sits back down. She allows me to finish eatin’ in peace. Patiently waits for me to gulp down the last bit of my juice before she starts in on me. She folds her hands on top of the table.

“Alex, listen. You’re playing a very dangerous game messing over these women the way you do. No matter how fucked up you think a woman is, she still has feelings. And when you play with a woman’s emotions…”

“C’mon, Ma, keep it gee. Is it my fault that they play themselves?”

“No, but it’s your fault for taking advantage of ’em. No matter what a woman thinks of herself, you are still responsible for how you treat ’em.”

Oh, well. If it’s not me draggin’ ’em, then it’ll be some other muhfucka. So it might as well be me. I shrug, glancin’ down at my watch. It’s almost nine. I get up from my seat, then walk over and kiss Moms on her forehead. “I love you, Ma. But, whether it’s right or wrong, I’ma do what I do no matter what you think about it. I’ma be outta town for a minute, but I’ll hit you up when I get back.”

She gets up, takes my empty plate and places it in the sink. “And I love you, too. But that doesn’t mean I’ma stop doing what I do. And that’s being your mother, worrying about you, confronting you on your irresponsible choices, and cussing ya ass out when need be.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say, smilin’. “But just remember, they’re my choices. And I like it when you cuss.” I walk up and grab her in a big bear hug, then pick her up. “I don’t want no problems, Ma.”

She laughs. “Boy, put me down.” I do. She gives me a hug, then looks up at me. “I don’t wanna see anything happen to you that coulda been prevented by being honest.”

I kiss her on the forehead. “Ma, I am bein’ honest wit’ these chicks.” I grin, shruggin’. “Well, okay, ’bout most things. Still whatever heartache or drama they feel, it’s shit they brought on themselves, real talk.”

She shakes her head, followin’ me toward the front door. “I love you.”