RIPPED & READY (PART 56)

RIPPED & READY (PART LVI)
 

     Short, stout, stocky and stupid; all fours S’s that describe a straight "got-dayum" fool.  He stood their waving his .38 like it was an extension of his dick (Which everyone knew was a Vienna-Sausage -- he was the brunt of many jokes in High School).  I believe that's why he always had an attitude because any female he was lucky to pull always dropped his ass after he whipped out little ding-ding (Chile, the only bell his ass could ring was Taco Bell). 

          He had Joseph around the neck, and pulled against his chest, with the barrel of the .38 pointed right at me.  What the hell was a peep-hole for if you didn't bother to look in it to see who was at the door?  My baby was notorious for just opening the door without asking who it was -- it made me so fucking mad because he never seemed to give it a second thought and now his bad habit has put us in a precarious predicament.  

            My thoughts were racing back and forth in my head as I tried to figure out a way to reach this fool.  I flashed back to the night and his foiled effort to get his brother, Peewee, to kill Collin.  This little asshole was all four of the letters in fool and I knew I had to bring it right because he had no qualms about getting extra with anybody challenging his manhood. 

          "Darrius, dude, what the fuck is your malfunction, nigga?  Why in the hell are you doing this, man?  You have your whole life ahead of you...I thought once all everything was out in the open we could all find peace and dwell together as family from our hood," I said, knowing damn well that trying reason with a damned “Sherm-head” is just like trying to stop a crack head from putting a flame under a glass dick with a big rock on it.

           “You fucking know, Marco.  My brotha, Peewee, treats me like a fucking joke now, and Tootchie don’t even look at me the same, and you think that is your boy Collin’s baby, man, hell naw, that’s my little nigga in the bitch’s stomach,” he said, whiping away the slobber that had formed at the corners of his mouth. 

          “You can still have a family, man, if that’s true,” I said, desperately trying to reach this crazy ass mofo.

          "Family?  Did you just say family?  Motherfucka you wouldn't know a day-um thing about family!  Hell, your pops and me just got through three-waying it with a damned crack-ho, so don't you stand your smug ass over there preaching to me about family when your own daddy is dicking down everything with a hole in the hood...yea I had it in her booty and your pops was in the coo-coo, nigga...now what????" He asked, as he licked Joseph on the side of the cheek with his fat, moist, tongue. 

            I almost regurgitated on the white carpet (Darrius' breath always smelled like straight butt-crack).  My Joe-Joe squirmed in disgust, and Darrius aggressively pulled him back into him to regain his secure hold on him.  

          "Let him go, nigga, what the fuck?" I shouted angrily, frustrated at the fact that I couldn't do anything without causing Joseph or myself harm.  

          Darrius thrust his hips forward, repeatedly, dry humping Joseph, teasing me, daring me to make the wrong move.  

          When I took a few steps forward, he stared me down, with a menacing smile on his face, and he cocked the .38.  Joseph body language quickly shifted into paralysis. "Yes...do...that...there…and...I...will...send...’dis...pretty...little nigga...to his creator, Marco," he sneered. 

          I was so fucking beside myself that I could have Popeyed his motherfucking jaw with invisible force -- I wanted to get ahold of Darrius so damn bad that I could've nutted right there in my fucking draws.  

          "MOTHERFUCKER...LET MY BOY GO!" I screamed.  

          "Oh, I'm going to let his ass go, alright," Darrius said, as he pimp slapped Joseph on the side of the face with the butt of the .38.  "Ooops...that's going to leave a scar, now ain't it, pretty little motherfucker!" He said. 

          Out of nowhere, the shadow of someone leapt foward, tackling Darrius from the back, knocking him to the floor, and separating him from Jospeh.  The gun jumped out his hand and hit the carpet.  

          BOOM!

          There was bright spark from the gun...

          Screaming...

          Sobbing....

          Then...

          Silence

          “Play that muthafucka until it ends, Marco,” Darrius said, in a weary tone.

          Now what the hell did that mean?

...