Big Booty

9

  "Girl . . . I'm so glad . . . that we . . . stayed," Dickalina says, leanin' over toward the passenger window. She has the window down so the air can hit her in the face. She's real twisted. Mmmph. There's nothin' worse than seein' a bitch that can't hold her liquor. "I had a nice . . . time . . . "

"Yeah, and a little too damn much to drink."

She turns to face me to say somethin', but starts coughin' and gaggin' and dry-heaving.

"Bitch, if you throw up in my damn truck, I'm gonna push your ass out and leave you on the damn curb for the garbage truck."

She glances over her shoulder at me. "Oh, fuck you, Stank Booty. Ain't nobody gonna throw up in yo' shit. I'm feelin' nice. I ain't fucked up. You always somew

here talkin' shit. That's why I can't stand ya ugly ass."

"Ho, shut the fuck up with your dumb, drunk, ghetto-ass. You the ugly one with that stank-ass name of yours. Dickalina." I laugh. "Who the fuck names their child Dickalina? Don't even get me started on your Rent-to-Own ass, boo-boo."

She leans her head back on the headrest. "Eat my ass."

I laugh. "Yeah, right. Save that shit-stained cavern for that buck-tooth niggah of yours. He seems to like his teeth brown any-damn-way."

She playfully swats me on the arm, chuckling. "Oooh, fuck you. You wrong for that. Leave my man's teeth alone. He can't help it if his triflin'-ass mammy didn't do anything about gettin' his teeth fixed when he was younger."

I frown, stoppin' at a light. "Ho, that six-foot-five, two-hundred-and-somethin'-pound niggah is a grown-ass man."

"Yeah, but he ain't got no dental insurance," she says, soundin' all pitiful.

I cut my eyes over at her. "That niggah stays robbin' niggahs. He should be takin' some of that money he gets for sellin' that stolen shit and invest it in shavin' down them damn horse teeth instead of trickin' it up on drinks and smoke."

"He don't be trickin' all of it up. He buys groceries and pays the cable bill too, ho. Don't get it twisted."

So this is what it's all come down to. Having a niggah to buy your groceries and pay your cable bill. And a bitch is cool with just that. I sigh. Shit, I know I'm ghetto. But at least I'm classy-ghetto with mine. But this ho right here, she's straight gutter-trash with hers. And you damn sure can't take her ass anywhere outside of the damn hood unless you wanna get embarrassed. And that's exactly why I only hang with her ass down at the Crack House. She could never roll with me up to any exclusive-type shit.

I reach over and pat her hand. "Girl, what can I say? You definitely snagged the door prize."

"I know, girl. I mean, don't get me wrong. Knutz does some fucked up thangs sometimes. But y'all don't know him like I know him. I wish you'd get to know him a little better and you'd see. He's really a good man, Cassie."

 Yeah, and he beats your ass. And is in and outta jail. Oh, and he robs niggahs. Yup, that niggah's real special. I yawn. "Okay, boo-boo. If you say so."

"Ohmygod, it feels like the truck's spinnin'. Can you slow the hell down?"

"Bitch, I'm at a light. That's your head spinnin'. Your ass is fucked up, ho."

She hangs her head all the way out of the window and throws up. When the light changes, I pull over to the side of the road and let her get herself together. "Bitch, you better not have gotten any of that nasty shit on the side of my damn truck or I'ma bang you in your motherfuckin' head. I told your dumb ass to not suck down all those Bloody Tampons."