Page 100 of Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang

“Fuck you, nigga. You ain’t shit, Alley Cat. I hope you rot in hell, motherfucker! I promise you, you gonna pay for hurting me, nigga. Oh, and that lil’ stuck-up bitch you been fucking, the next time I run into her, I’m gonna toss acid in her pretty face. She broke my nose, but I promise you I’m gonna bring a hammer to that bitch’s skull. Let’s see you run behind that bitch when she’s all burnt and banged up.”

A bitch is pipin’ hot, okay? That stinkin’ bitch gonna threaten me. “So this bitch is still out on da muthafuckin’ loose, poppin shit.”

“I filed a complaint on ’er.”

“Well, why da fuck didn’t you do that shit in da first place?”

“Them muhfuckas wouldn’t let me. They told me there wasn’t nuthin’ they could do.”

I stare the nigga, down. “What’s that bitch’s last name and address? That bitch is barkin’ up da wrong muthafuckin’ tree and she’s ’bout to get chopped da fucked down.”

“C’mon, baby. Let da police handle it. I don’t want you gettin’ caught up in this shit.”

“Nigga, is you serious? That bitch has been to my home. She slashed ya muthafuckin’ tires in my driveway, did you forget that? And the bitch is talkin’ ’bout she gonna do my face. I don’t think so. I told you before I wanted that bitch’s address, and you fuckin’ thought I was playin’. I coulda had that bitch dropped months ago. But noooo, you wanna protect da bitch.”

He takes a deep breath, rubbin’ his hands ova his face. “It’s not like that, yo. You don’t understand, this bitch’s crazy.”

“Nigga, I understand more than you think. And guess what? I don’t give’a fuck ’bout that bitch bein’ crazy. I want that nuttyass ho’s address. And I want it now!”

“No, baby. I got this.”

I glare at ’im. “No? You still wanna protect that crazy bitch?”

“Yo, I don’t give a fuck ’bout ’er. I ain’t protectin’ that bitch, yo. I don’t want ’er comin’ at you; that’s all.”

“Fuck outta here wit’ that dumb shit. You brought da bitch straight to my muthafuckin’ doorstep, number one; and number two, ya black ass kept all this bitch’s crazy-ass antics from me. Why?”

“I was tryna handle da shit on my own.”

“What da fuck?! Muthafucka, you retarded as hell. Why da fuck was you even talkin’ to da bitch when you knew ’er ass was a nut from da rip?”

“I know I—”

I’m done fuckin’ wit’ this nigga, I think, puttin’ my hand up to stop him from sayin’ shit else. Strike three! I stare at ’im, disgusted. “You know what, nigga. Get da fuck outta my house.”

He gets up and walks ova toward me. “C’mon, baby. I promise you, da police are lookin’ for ’er as we speak. You don’t need to get ya’self caught up in this shit.”

I huff, grittin’ my teeth. “Muthafucka, I’m already caught up in this shit. The minute that bitch stepped to me at that salon it became my shit, too. Now get out!”

“No. I ain’t leavin’.”

I blink. “No? Uh, you ain’t leavin’? I tell you what. Hol’ that thought. I’ll be right back.” I run upstairs to my bedroom, swingin’ open my closet. Muhfucka gonna tell me he ain’t leavin’ up outta my shit. That nigga don’t want it. I’ma show his cocky ass. I open my safe, pullin’ out my 9mm. I screw on the silencer, then pop my hips back downstairs. The nigga is sittin’ back down on the sofa. Ohmiigaaawd, this muthafucka is fuckin’ crazy.

I point my gun at ’im. The nigga jumps up, shook. “Nigga, I asked you to get da fuck outta my house. Now I’m tellin’ you. Get da fuck up, and get da fuck out, NOW! Or I’ma blow ya muthafuckin’ face off.”

“Yo, c’mon, baby, why you gotta pull ya shit out on me. All I wanna do is talk.”

“Muthafucka, you done said all I need’a hear. Unless you givin’ me that slut’s last name and address, da only thing I wanna hear is ya ass screechin’ outta my driveway.”

He stands here lookin’ at me all crazy-eyed ’n shit. This nigga really don’t think I’ll take his face off. I cock the gun. “I’ma tell you one more time, then I’ma pop off ya top. Get. Da. FUCK. OUT. NOW!”

He shakes his head, puttin’ his hands up. “Aiight, Kat, you got that. You made ya point. I’m out.”

“Good. Now get ta steppin’.”

I watch ’im walk toward the door and open it. He turns to face me. “Yo, hol’ up. Check this out. I didn’t do this shit intentionally. A muhfucka thought I could keep that bitch quiet ’til I could figure out how’ta get ’er ass off my back. I didn’t want ’er fuckin’ wit’ you; that’s all. And I damn sure wasn’t tryna bring drama up in ya space.”

“Well, too bad, nigga, you did. Now bounce.”

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