Bootleg Man was justa storming when he walked out the door. Damn that bourgeoise bitch reverting what he said back to some problem she was having. That’s why women folk couldn’t keep a man.
Ole Bootleg Man was so fired up over the petty argument, he walked out with his shoes in his hands. His ass didn’t realize they weren’t on his feet ’til his foot pressed the clutch to crank up his piece of shit in the driveway that wouldn’t start. He just be damn and went to pounding his fists on the steering wheel. After a good minute, he caught hold of himself and thought his feet being bare wasn’t giving him the power to get that lemon of a car started but that didn’t have shit to do with shit. Him not being mechanically inclined, all he could do was sit there and think for a moment, like some stranded bitch on the side of the road.
Car had broken down on him so many times, he’d run out of calls he could make for tow services from the insurance he had on his cell phone. Damn, damn, damn!
Bootleg Man leaned his sorry ass back and relaxed, then saw the light from Desperita’s bedroom flood her window. He felt his peter getting excited at the thought of getting back inside of her and got to rubbing on his shit, thinking on how he could make his way back up in that beautiful ass house on a permanent basis. He got to fondling himself and didn’t notice Desperita slightly drawing her curtain back to see what fool was parked in her driveway.
Her headache was moving off into oblivion after taking that aspirin and she had a good mind to call the police on that sorry motherfucker who couldn’t fuck worth shit and sitting in her driveway in that piece of shit he had too much shame to drive her around in and sat behind the wheel of her Lexus like he was King Shit. The fact that he hadn’t made her come in she couldn’t remember damn near when should’ve been enough to shackle his ass in handcuffs.
She was feeling good and evil after realizing her period had started which, by the way, had been irregulated on account of her letting that sorry ass dick enter her body and off-centering her life. When was she gonna learn her damn lesson and why had it taken her period to come to wake her ass up, she didn’t know but Lord, she couldn’t keep going through this shit and she swore she would get back to going to church where there were some good men folk, and one in there He designed for her, besides the ones singing in the choir holding each others hands, that is, and, and…All kinds of promises raced from her head up to God that weren’t hitting on no more shit than the man sitting in her driveway.
Bringing her out of those lies to God, her phone rang. She saw it was her good friend Gina, the same crazy ass who busted up that gay wedding when Harriet, her other friend, found out her man was on the way down dirty low and popped up in the papers with a wedding announcement.
“Who’s that man up in your driveway?” The lights on Gina’s car went dim.
Desperita peeked from her window again and saw Gina’s car creeping close to the curb like some drive-by shooter from the hood she was from.
“You want him there or you want me to wrap up this little business for you?”
Desperita held her breath, put her hand to her chest and thought about the day she met Bootleg Man in that raggedy ass parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly. How now, on reflection, she should’ve noticed that he was stalling around and waiting for her to leave ’cause he was on foot and didn’t have a reliable ride to get him from point A to A and a half but was a closet bus pass holder trying to load her life down with his shit. Oh hell, she thought about this one and last time he drove into her like a damn jack hammer and wouldn’t consider how miserable she was when she asked him to stop and had the nerve to say her pussy was his and all that blahsay, blahsay bullshit that never amounted to nothing but a heap of dissatisfaction that kept piling up. With all those thoughts running sprints in her head, she gave Bootleg Man, who was bent under the hood of his car with his ass facing the street like he knew what the hell he was doing in the dark of night, silent farewell biddings and gave Gina the word.
Him never looking back made it all too convenient for Gina to pull out her hand-pistoled beebee gun to land some perfect shots to his right pone.
His ass shot up from that hood and head raised high in the sky then. “God to mighty! Lord to Jeeeeeesus…” He was just dancing in pain and grabbing his ass where the pellets lit into him.
Gina burned rubber on out of there, being on probation and all, leaving Desperita in a fit of laughter and Bootleg Man crying to Jesus, Allah and Jehovah as he ran down the road trying to spot the car tag, which was unlit. The most he got out of that short run was a fit of coughing left from the smoke of the exhaust pipe and neighbors from the posh posh houses he thought he’d be communing with, calling the po-po to come get this fool out of their neighborhood.
Thus, Bootleg Man left Desperita to live quite happily ever after ’til she met up this fine ass man heading up his own congregation with a gold-plated star on his front molar, who went by the name of Reverend Church Pimp.
The Very End, Folks
Copyright 2011 Totsymae