“I’ll give you a hint,” I told her. “That’s my mink you are wearing and those are my boots. You keep them. I don’t want them back. They’re yours.” I spoke calmly, my words pushing through her like a knife. She kicked off the boots first. I could see her black toenails. Damn! Not one bad nail, all ten thick, black, and curved like claws. She flung off the hood. The mink dropped to the floor. I didn’t know whether it was the weed or the tricks of trying to see through the glare of the flames, but her eyes seemed to be red. Not the whites of her eyes. The actual eyeball seemed like beams of red light.
“No, you take your shit with you back to wherever you came from. He’s gone.”
“Where to?” I asked.
“His father picked up his body in his body truck. He’ll be fed to the fire tonight. May already be burning.” She said like it was no loss to her. Like Dat Nigga was trash being picked up and thrown out by the sanitation man who happened to be his father.
“Body truck?” I repeated.
“You heard right. Dat Nigga and his soldiers caught a bad bombing by those pesky UBS who ain’t from down here and who ain’t supposed to even be in our territory. Shayton, that’s Dat Nigga’s father, in case you don’t already know. But you strolled in here like you think you live here. Like you think you know so much, so you must. If you really know Dat Nigga at all, you must know who his father is. He runs the Last Stop. Anyway, Dat Nigga’s father was out collecting the bodies himself, which he doesn’t normally do. Must have known Dat Nigga got hit. He collected his son and threw his body in the back of the body truck.” Her red eyes were peering into mine. The expression on her face was like, How you like me now, bitch? I was hurt about losing Dat Nigga, but since I knew that she was trying to raise a reaction out of me, I kept steady with my game face on.
“Where are you coming in from?” she asked me suddenly, switching to disguised friendly small talk. I want to get at her and let her know I’m not some random bitch.
“I’m coming from the same place you left me at, after you slammed me into the wall,” I said, pointing downwards. She busted out laughing, ran and grabbed one of the torches, and used it to highlight the bloodstain on the wall right where she had thrown me. “Oh, you were that stuck-up little dog,” she said. “Now that I think about it, even now, you still look like that little bitch. You must have let Dat Nigga butt-fuck you and that’s how you turned into a damn dog!” She cracked up even more. I didn’t have a rapid comeback. My mind suddenly went to review mode and I was seeing the face of the pretty bitch who had said that it definitely was Dat Nigga who had turned her into a rat. I didn’t believe her. But now Succubus was saying essentially the same thing. Then my mind clicked.
“Yeah, I was the one who turned into the dog. But I was also the dog who saw you get butt-fucked right here on the floor. After you begged him, that’s all he gave you! So if you’re not a lying bitch trying to blame Dat Nigga for turning me into a dog, why didn’t you turn into the fucking pig you are?”
“You stupid little stuck-up bitch. You must have thought that you and Dat Nigga was gonna get married and live happily ever after here in his house. Stop dreaming! First off, you’re a dead human. Duh! That means you can’t ever live happily ever after.” She laughed. “How could you be so fucking dumb? It’s the dead humans, the women and the men, who come down here and let Incubus fuck them in the ass. It’s the Tyrant who forbids ass-fucking. It’s the Tyrant who turns the dead humans into all types of animals as a form of punishment. Your stupid little ass is supposed to wake up and figure it out. Then you supposed to kiss the Tyrant’s ass because it’s the only way out of the Last Stop Before the Drop!” She folded her arms across her chest. I was still heated at the one thing in particular. This ugly bitch Succubus thought she was smarter, slicker, and better than me. I was like, Fuck that. I couldn’t let her get away believing she has the upper hand or that I would ever trust anything she had to say.
“Incubus didn’t fuck me. Dat Nigga did. It was the best sex I ever had. He loved me and that’s why you’re tight. Even a dog could see that he didn’t give one fuck about you. That’s why you had to beg him. That’s why you didn’t get no thrills. He couldn’t even fake loving you.”
“Dat Nigga is the Incubus, you dumb bitch. You down here ready to throw him your soul when it’s obvious you don’t even know who he is.” She turned the hand torch towards me like she was going burn me with it. I took three steps back. Getting burnt was not an option. I’ve seen burnt bitches before on lockup. Their burnt faces turned pink and swollen into blisters and bubbles. Then the doctors have to take skin from their ass and stitch it over the pink. Then the face turns into a monstrous mismatched patch of pink and ass skin. That would never be my look. If it was, it would be the only means of turning a bitch like me into a suicidal bitch.
“And you’re delusional. You seem to think you are the only one, or the true love of Incubus. Did you see how many other animals were down there with your dumb ass? All of them were either as dumb as you or even dumber. All of them came back for seconds and let Incubus ass-fuck them, fully aware from the first time they turned into some filthy creature how it would turn out all over again. That’s why you’re back here, isn’t it. Is it your second time? Or is it your third?” she asked, but I didn’t say nothing back. She laughed. “See, you came back for the third strike, didn’t you!” she gloated.
“Your ass is right in here in the same house where I am right now. So who’s the dumbass?”
“You!” She laughed so hard her face appeared to switch back and forth from its normal ugly, but human appearance, to some type of dangerous fanged beast. “The Tyrant made all of us. You must know that. Even an ant and a tick and a worm is aware that there is only ONE. That same ONE who created good also created evil. The same ONE is the ONE who created every living thing. I was created to do exactly what I am doing and I hate it. But bitch, this is who I am. That’s why I did not turn into a pig as you suggested. The Tyrant, who is the best knower of all things, is not out to punish me for being the succubus that he created me to be. The Tyrant is using me to wake your dumb ass up. But you have such a sturdy brand of stupid that you can’t awaken. The Tyrant made you look so attractive that you worship only yourself. I don’t give a fuck about you worshipping yourself. All succubuses and all incubuses worship ourselves. That’s how this whole thing popped off. The Tyrant who created every goddamn living thing ordered Shayton to bow down to Adam, the human. Shayton refused. The All-Powerful Tyrant casted Shayton out of the Heavens. So Shayton hustled up and built up this whole empire down here.”
There was nothing separating me from her except the flame dancing atop of her hand torch. “Incubus never loved you. He never loved me either. He butt-fucks ’cause that’s how Incubus get down. We all do it naturally and prefer it that way. But ass-fucking is sodomy. It’s forbidden to humans by the One. That’s why y’all suffer when you do it. But y’all all too dumb to understand. And y’all are too much just like us to care. That’s why I love Shayton. I think he was right not to bow down to Adam. What the fuck for? You humans are the weakest dumbest pieces of shit.” Then she torched my hair. Jealous bitches always go for the hair first. That’s how you know they want what you got. They’re jealous of you. Now I was on fire.
I dashed to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind me. I threw back the shower curtain and turned on the water. I snatched down the showerhead and put out the hair fire before it had burnt off all of my hair. I stood stroking my hair and shivering from the cold water. Half of it was gone. I wanted to check the mirror to see if it had burned evenly, or if it had left bald spots. But as usual, it was dark in the bathroom. I couldn’t see in the mirror. And even if I looked in the mirror, unless I was in an animal’s body, I couldn’t see my own reflection.
“Dumb bitch! Come back out here. Let me school your dumb ass some more,” she said, steadily banging on the door. I was still stroking my hair. It was no longer long enough for me to gat
her it into a ponytail. I couldn’t finger-comb it up into a bun. With a rubber band, maybe it could gather into a pigtail. I was so fucking angry, I wasn’t game to be no afro-wearing bitch. I didn’t know of any hair salons down here. I couldn’t really hook myself up right, without a mirror or reflection to confirm my look.
I guess it’s okay. Succubus said that Dat Nigga was dead and gone, fed to the fire. Only good thing is I would never want him to see me in this condition. I was still not sure what parts of what she was saying were true. I could not let her be the one who decided whether he loved me or not or whether or not I would continue to love him.
I picked up the scented candle jar, remembering the sweetness and thoroughness of his love for me. I stuck the jar underneath the downpour of the shower water. I turned the shower off. Now there was only the sound of her banging. Quietly I unlocked the door. She must have still heard the lock click though, ’cause she stopped banging. I snatched the door open and threw the jar of cold water right onto her face. Her head began disintegrating. Her neck was sending off curling black smoke. Her bulky body fell to the floor. Fire sprung up through her chest. I looked down on her. “You look better with no head, you ugly bitch. Tell Shayton to come back through and throw your stinking ass on his body truck. I may be a dumb dead bitch, but I’m a fucking survivor.”
I walked out wearing my Prada kicks, the wet pearl Burberry trench coat, and clutching the saddle-bag strap. I jumped into Dat Nigga’s BMW and sped off. For better or worse, I am the real wife of Dat Nigga. So of course I inherit his whip.
15.
The ride was all uphill. It’s crazy how it’s so fun going down, and such a slow drag driving up. When I reached the top of what was the steepest road I’ve ever known, I felt relieved to begin driving through a straight tunnel. Even though it was all blackness, I enjoyed that there was no posted speed limit, no cops to be seen anywhere, and no traffic. Felt like Heaven to me.
“Well, then negotiate,” I heard my middle sister Porsche’s voice in my head. And that’s exactly what I planned to do. I didn’t know anybody down here except Bomber Girl and Young Drummer, and both of them were not really locals. So there was no guarantee that I would see them again. But she said that she had one remaining mercy. It felt like she was on my side. But she hated Dat Nigga, and was probably the one who chased him from the south side where they were battling, all the way to the east side, where he came to pick me up. She may have even thrown the bomb that killed him. Yeah, I had caught feelings that she had provided me with the bomb that saved me from the second rape and got me out of the animal warehouse factory. But I still don’t like her religious talk. I’m never planning on bowing down after a whole lifetime of others bowing down to me. Furthermore, I couldn’t feel this so-called god they called the ONE, the All-Powerful, All-Knowing, who allegedly created every living thing. Fashion is like life. If fashion had one designer creating, how boring would that be? Fashion and life both have to have many designers and creators wrapped in a passionate competition with one another, to push and rule the culture and the look of absolutely everybody and everything. So why should I believe in one God who had a monopoly over it all? The same God who threw Shayton the devil out of Heaven, because he craved that same type of competition I’m talking about? I respect Shayton, tossed all the way to the bottom. Instead of defeat, he built an empire! He filled his city with his houses of evil. He put his sons to work. He even had his own sons competing with one another. Competition, that’s how it should be done. That’s how Poppa and Brooklyn Momma did it. Everybody know not to let men get lazy. Put them to work. Make them grind and force their own come-up. Then the reward is them having the choosiest bitches and finest whips and gear, food prepared like they want it, VIP spots everywhere they go, the livest parties and all that they earn from their hustle and flow. That’s my religion, if I have to have one. Ass-kissing is for those who don’t mind getting shit on their lips and stinking all the time. I laughed.
Reality is though, back when I sat on the curb by the sewer paralyzed and had no other choice than to sit and listen to Bomber Girl’s talk, I should have presented her with my counterproposal. Now I would.
First step in my plan was to drive back to the exact spot where the sewer was. For some reason, she had showed up twice at that same location. Her arrival had overpowered that extreme odor. I also noticed that the rally of the UBS was also in that same location. The march of the animals also led to that same location. Therefore, I deduced that there had to be something to it. I should go there and Bomber Girl would show up. I would unveil my plan once I figured it out. She would be the one to do what I told her to do, to get me what I want.
The stench let me know I was in the area. It was so powerful that even with all four windows sealed, I could smell it racing up my nose holes and could even taste it on my tongue. I drove through it for a while, unable to see or locate an open sewer. I stopped because it felt like I had driven far enough and maybe should have stopped a little further back. I pressed my face up against the window. It was all black in every direction. I thought I should get out and search around on foot. However, I reminded myself that I am naked beneath the pearl trench. I burnt my white silk rape dress. My badass, I Rule the World, black Chiffon, never been worn, oh my! Tom Ford pleated dress was swiped by Succubus. Even though her fat ass could never ever fit it. Even if she stopped eating entirely for sixty days. Naked beneath the trench would have always been some sexy shit to me. However, after the rape I was feeling a little more cautious than I had ever felt, dead or alive.
I should sort it out, I said to myself. Once my plan was solid, I would blow the car horn and use that loud sound to call Bomber Girl while I remain locked inside of the vehicle in case anybody different showed up bent on violating me.
I was in a world where—no, I was in a realm was what they called it. I was in a realm where there was no money. The hot commodity is the soul. Apparently, anybody can sell their soul to get something in return. Or a hustler from the Last Stop can sell the souls of others like Dat Nigga, his father, and their team did. Souls must get a high price. Shayton and his sons and team all had whips and trucks and sturdy houses and business locations, warehouses and factories. They had a full franchise going. Dat Nigga kept his potent weed stacked. He had a full bar of whatever liquors were craved or needed for every occasion.
Hmmm… Winter, just because the soul is the hottest commodity at the moment, it doesn’t mean you can’t jump in there and create a new commodity and make it hot, I told myself. Obviously, anybody who knew how to hook up utilities, lights in particular, would become a trillionaire in this realm that was always dark except for a flame or during a time of what they called mercy. But mercy was imported. It didn’t come from down here. Them UBS can speak all those languages and got a great starlit light show. But let’s face it, they needed spaceships like the Jetsons rocked on the Cartoon Network when I was young. Then Siddiqah wouldn’t be complaining about the distance between Jannah and the Last Stop. I laughed.
The food industry was booming on Earth. However, down here it seems like the incubuses and succubuses don’t eat. They definitely don’t drink water. Come to think of it, the dead humans, me and my kind, don’t eat or drink water either. I never saw or asked if the UBS eat and drink. But if they so religious that they can’t even fuck, well they probably don’t eat or drink either.
That left the food industry with only one business option, pet food. Or should I say animal food, because those warehouses housed all types of creatures who were definitely not treated like pets are treated on Earth. That led me to believe that animals down here have short lives. That means animal food was not a real come-up.
Thinking further, since there are no lights or cameras down here, and the predominant color is black, that means the death of fashion. Hold up! There must be a black market because Dat Nigga wore Timbs and butter leathers, had silk and satin sheets, and fine fabrics. There has to be a textile industry or some way for hust
lers to travel to Earth and bring back the fabrics, shoes, kicks, and whips and products they wanted to peddle that we had a stockpile of on Earth. All of my thoughts kept leading to Shayton. To be a player, I need to make a deal with the devil, I said aloud to myself.
The same second I said that, a storm of rocks thundered down from every direction onto the BMW. Not pebbles—heavy, jagged rocks, the size of, say, golf balls. Instinctively, I put my hands over my head, but I knew if they hit my hands, they would break both of my wrists. The pounding lasted for what seemed like a long time. Fearing that there would be nothing left of the car if I just sat there with my hands on my head, I turned the ignition on and pulled off. The rock storm followed me.
I tried to dodge it by suddenly driving to the left, then the right, then speed-reversing. Then slamming on the brakes. Then I’d take off again. I did this over and over until, What the fuck? While speeding forward, the car started jerking, then put-putting. Nooooo! I said to myself. I’m out of freakin’ gas. Eventually, the rock storm ceased. What remained was a car that must have looked like it drove through an ambush and got sprayed on every side. The windows were still intact, though. That impressed me. However, they could no longer be called windows because I could no longer see out through them. They had a gazillion glass dents and cracks. Whatever. Wherever I ended up when the gas ran out, was still all stillness, stench, and blackness.
Once I calmed down some, I realized I had a massive headache. Even though none of the rocks had landed inside of the car, my headache was so severe it felt like some of them had went right upside my head. There was a pounding that I was unfamiliar with. All of my blood vessels seemed about to burst, but I had no aspirin or medicine of any kind. I reclined back in the seat to rest my head. I comforted myself by thinking, Don’t worry bitch, you ain’t got no blood.
Life After Death Page 17