Daddy Long Stroke

And the only person any of these hoes can really be mad at is themselves, ’specially when a muhfucka tells ’em from the dip what it is. Hell, I let these chicks know that this thick, black dick comes wit’ no money-back guarantees. So don’t come scratchin’ and kickin’at my door tryna get ya retarded ass a refund. So be clear. If I fuck you once, there’s no assurance that you gonna get a second round. There’s no declaration of some undyin’-love for ya ass, no commitment to be in ya life. Most of these tricks seem to get it—or at least act like they do. But e’ery so often there’s a ho or two, or three, who fail to read the memo and try to get on some extra shit. Like Ramona’s dizzy ass. Sumthin’ told me to ignore the call, but me bein’ the type of cat I am, I decide to officially let her know she’s been dismissed from her dick-wettin’ duties.

As soon as I answer, she whines into the phone. “Why haven’t I heard from you? Didn’t you get the messages I left?” I frown. There’s nuthin’ more annoyin’ than a whinin’, complainin’, needy-ass bitch, which is what this trick is to me. I try to figure out why I even fucked wit’ her ass for as long as I did—four damn months of nuttiness, to be exact. I mean, aside from lovin’ to fuck all night and havin’ a fat-ass, this ho really didn’t come to the table wit’ much ’cept a shitload of insecurities. And a muhfucka like me ain’t beat for tryna reassure some emotionally bankrupt ho ’bout shit she should already know.

“Yeah, I got them shits. And?”

“And?” she repeats, soundin’ heated. “And I called you mad times, and texted you. So obviously I needed to talk to you.”

No, obviously ya ass is muthafuckin’ obsessed. I sigh. “You needed to talk to me ’bout what, Ramona?”

“First, I need to know why you haven’t returned any of my calls. I mean, damn. Common courtesy doesn’t cost anything. Even if you didn’t feel like talking, you could have at least replied to my texts.”

Now, maybe it’s me; but if you constantly hittin’ a muhfucka up and the nigga don’t get back at ya…uh, duh, the muhfucka ain’t interested. Meep, meep! This bitch musta fell off the short bus, for real. “You want the truth?” I ask, knowin’ most broads can’t handle it, even when it’s starin’ them dead in the muthafuckin’ eye. Like, the truth that he doesn’t want you; that he’s a liar and a cheater; that he’s gonna keep beatin’ your ass; that he’s gonna keep fuckin’ you over; that he doesn’t respect you or your lil’ fucked-up relationship; that he’s smokin’ crack, snortin’ dope and stealin’ all ya shit; that he’s got ya moms suckin’ his dick and ya sister’s knocked up; that ya dumb ass is smotherin’ him; that ya retarded ass is too damn unstable and too muthafuckin’ needy. And the list goes on. Humph…man, listen. All I can do is shake my damn head. But the bitch says she wants it, so I smack her wit’ it. “One, ’cause I ain’t ya man,” I tell her. “Two, you can’t suck dick for shit; and three, you too muthafuckin’ clingy. A nigga like me ain’t beat for that shit. And you ain’t worth the aggravation.”

“Whaat?! Are you fucking serious? So fuck me, right? You got what you wanted, and now you just dip on a bitch. No phone call, no nothin’. That’s real fucked up, Alley Cat.”

“Hol’ the fuck up. What is it you think I got from you?”

“Me!” she screams into my ear.

I laugh. “Baby, I didn’t ask for you. And I didn’t take nuthin’ you didn’t wanna give. You gave me you.”

“And you took advantage of me! You took my pussy, my money and my heart with no fuckin’ regard for me, or my feelings.”

I laugh again.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

“You,” I tell her, pausin’. See, a delusional ho needs to be hit wit’ a dose of reality—hard. “Listen. I ran this dick up in ya raggedyass pussy ’cause you wanted me to. I ran ya wallet ’cause you wanted me to. I didn’t take shit from you, boo. So don’t get it twisted. You gave it ’cause that’s what da fuck you wanted to do. And, as far as ya heart goes, I didn’t ask for it, nor did I want it. I told you, ‘Fuck wit’ a nigga like me at ya own risk.’ I told ya ass don’t come at me lookin’ for love ’cause I ain’t givin’ none of the shit out. But you still dropped ya mutherfuckin’ drawers, snapped open ya wallet, and invited me in. So don’t come at me sideways wit’ no dumb-ass shit.”

“Who the fuck you calling a dumb-ass trick?”

I don’t bother correctin’ her. ’Cause in all truth, her simple ass tricked up whatever common sense she mighta had the day she swallowed my nut.

“Boo, you a bona-fide fool, for real.”

“Motherfucker, the only fool is you,” she snaps, raisin’ her voice. “And I don’t appreciate you trying to dismiss me the way you did. I deserve more than you ignoring my goddamn calls.”