Yolo 3: Murda Mami

by Sa'id Salaam

“Killa!” the teen cheered, much the way kids do when they see their favorite super hero. This was Killa’s territory, Batman and Spiderman weren’t shit around here.

  “’Sup yo,” Kill replied coolly, while Sincerity shook her head. It always tickled her to see the way people looked up to him. After graciously shaking the kid’s hand, Killa led the way into the project’s courtyard.

  “My favorite villain,” Killa said and smiled at the new leader of the goons. The six foot two teen smiled back and stood to shake his hand. The kid earned the name Villain by doing a bunch of villainous shit during the course of his short young life.

  “What’s poppin’, Unc? Been waiting on you,” Villain said as he handed him a hand gun. “I heard you got a new operation going on,” Killa said tucking the pistol into his waistband.

  “Yeah, but noting in the projects. Niggas wanna get high they gotta go over to Ogden,” he said proudly. He made his block safer, at the expense of someone else’s but it was a start.

  “Where’s my pops?” Sincerity cut in as she looked around. Villain pointed up and shrugged as if to say where else.

  Killa, Sincerity, and little Xavier all lifted their heads towards the sky. There they saw Karate Joe running around the edge of the roof. Sincerity shook her head because she knew that he was wearing a blindfold.

  “Man, I use to hate when he made me do that,” she huffed at the memories. She had been his number one student back in the day.

  Leading the way into the building, Killa held his breath.

  “I see niggas still peeing in the lobby!” Sincerity fussed as the tart smell invaded her nostrils.

  It was obviously an unwritten rule that the elevators, stairwells and lobbies in the projects must smell like urine. The elevator reached the top floor, they got off and walked up an additional flight and stopped out onto the roof. The karate man immediately stopped in his tracks and smiled sensing his daughter’s presence. He then pulled off his blindfold and rushed over to greet her.

  “Daddy!” Sincerity squealed as she met him halfway. Killa twisted his lips up at her calling him daddy, but held his tongue. Karate Joe was after all her father.

  Karate Joe hugged his daughter, twirling her around before setting her down. He then shook Killa’s hand before hugging his grandsons and turning back to his daughter.

  “Ha-ya!” he shouted as he threw a karate chop towards Sincerity, that she narrowly ducked. She dipped under it and came up with a flurry of chops and kicks of her own.

  “Damn!” Killa laughed as the aging man put his arms behind his back and evaded everything that was thrown at him. “That’s why I have a gun.”

  “I still can’t hit you!” Sincerity pouted out of breath from the attack.

  “Sure you can. Love, honor and respect causes you to hesitate preventing you from doing so,” he assured her because fact was that she was damn good. “Are you back for good?”

  “America, yes. The Bronx, no” she replied wistfully since she still didn’t know their destination.

  “But, you guys can talk, text and video chat,” Killa said as he handed him a satellite phone. Karate Joe took it and bowed. “Um… okay.”

  Karate Joe and his daughter bowed towards one another like teacher and student and then hugged like father and daughter. As he was putting on his blindfold back on, his family was once again hitting the pissy stairwell.

  The couple made their rounds to visit their few closest friends before heading back out. This time they flew out of Newark, New Jersey to be sure no one could spot a routine in their movements. Routines got peopled killed.

  “Atlanta!” Sincerity cheered when they reached the gate. She had always wanted to move there and was finally getting her chance. Only Killa’s hide out wouldn’t be quite what she expected.

  Once they landed in the A, they took a train to where Killa had a car parked. They drove around the perimeter and headed east of Atlanta. A few dirt roads later, they had arrived.

  “To the Bat cave!” Sincerity quipped as they navigated the long winding driveway. It appeared as if they were driving in the woods that is until they reached a clearing where a modest two story home set.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find something closer to civilization,” he advised. “I just gotta get a few things set up.”

  “Mm hm,” she replied twisting her lips dubiously. She knew her man and knew he was up to something.

  She was right to because he was. He was up to something clever, ambitious and oh so very violent. Kill wasn’t a murderer, but he was a killer and the world was just full of wicked people who needed to be killed. His plan was to make the world a better place by getting rid of one unwanted presence at a time. Or two or three, or a hundred; if necessary.

  “A necessary evil…” Killa mused, as he tried to come up with a name for his new website. It would take him a couple of weeks to get it up and running, therefore he had time.

  The site was a place where oppressed people could come vent about people in need of death. There was no fee, no contact information, and no feedback given. Discreet servers routed the sites signals all over the globe making tracking it impossible. Killa would independently verify the information shared and decide on a case by case basis on how to proceed.

  “Ooh! 1-800-Killa!” he typed proudly once he settled on a name. Branding is everything you know.

  “Killa! KILL-AH!” Sincerity shouted from upstairs for the hundredth time before he finally heard her. The finished basement had become his man cave, the place where he pursued his passion.

  “Yeah!” he shouted, matching her perturbed tone. He knew she hated being ignored, but he hated being interrupted.

  “Come eat!” she yelled back minus the attitude.

  “Eat? I just ate,” he said to himself and looked down at his empty plate. He grabbed it and took it with him for proof. “I already… Oh my!”

  “Oh my, is right,” Sincerity giggled at his reaction. His reaction was definitely appropriate since she was butt naked on the sofa with her luscious legs spread wide open. The position was known as ‘Dinner is served’.

  Killa closed the distance between them in three large steps. He then planted both feet and executed a perfect swan dive into her vagina. Sincerity thought that it would be cute to grab the back of his head like he did her when she gave him head. Killa just shook his head, which only helped her cause. He damn couldn’t say anything with his tongue deep inside of her. Sincerity bust a slobbering body shaking and shivering nut. Her plan was to return the favor once her breathing returned to normal, but Killa had other plans.

  “You good? Good!” he asked and answered before he jumped up and rushed back down into the basement, as she watched curiously. A resent request had caught his eye, before going upstairs, and he was anxious to get back to it. Killa was about to do some killing.

  Chapter 5

  “And your daddy killed all the bad guys!” Yolo sang as if her bedtime stories were Mother Goose in nature instead of Father Killa. None the less the twins seemed to love it. They smiled their gummy little smiles and kicked their fat little baby legs with happiness.

  “Dada, Dada,” they repeated every time she said the word. A lot of single baby mamas never speak of their baby daddy, at least not in a positive light, but Yolo was different. She told her babies about their father every chance she got. She even went as far as to promise them that they would all be together one day, or she would die trying to make it happen.

  Once her babies drifted off to sleep, Yolo settled in the den to partake in her favorite pastime. Searching the internet provided fodder on all the latest about the murder and mayhem going on across the globe. The situation in Syria spread a nasty scowl across her face. ISIS and other groups who gave Muslims a bad name pissed her off. Even she was smart enough to realize that their atrocities had nothing to do with Islam. Those people were just plain evil and evilness was from the devil.

  “Wish I could come cut your head off,” she growled at a deviant holding the he
ad of an innocent civilian. She clicked away and ended up a t a story of Americans going to Africa to kill protected animals. It was really sad lions and tigers ambushed and murdered for sport. Yolo had just made up her mind to go hunt one of the perpetrators down when a local news story caught her attention.

  “In local news, a body found in Amityville has been positively linked to a series of brutal rapes and murders in the area. Sixteen year old Sa-na-tor… wait Sa-nor-ma… The sixteen year old girl was walking home from a party at one in the morning when she was abducted…”

  “And just what was a sixteen year old doing at a party at one o’clock in the morning?” Yolo asked the T.V. On cue the girl’s ratchet ass mother popped on screen to explain. Actually her appearance alone was enough to explain.

  “They done kilt my Sanadorishia Monay!” she wailed, even though not a single tear fell. She flailed her bright orange nails that matched her long orange wig. Orange eye liner and lipstick kept her shiny gold teeth company. The gaudy outfit she wore was more clown wear than couture. A look behind her revealed either the circus had come to town or Amityville was having a clown contest.

  “This brings the total to six confirmed deaths. Police say it’s the work of a serial killer…”

  “More like a cereal killer,” Yolo huffed indignantly. “Some cocoa puff preying on little girls. I should go kill him. I am going to kill him!”

  *****

  The very next night, Yolo decided to take a little drive over to Amityville to see if she couldn’t make murder something. That meant that Christi would have to watch the kids. It wasn’t a problem since she spent most of her time at Yolo’s anyway.

  Yolo was actually quite the perfect big sister. She was smart enough to help with homework and she listened to her problems. The girl’s main problems were her mother and her slew of boyfriends. The woman stole almost every article of clothing Yolo had brought the girl. That included the panties and socks. Christi had to keep her clothes next door at Yolo’s to keep them. She was always over there, so it was no problem to shower and change her clothes while there.

  “Ooh where you going?” Christi asked excitedly, when Yolo emerged dressed like the fast ass teen girls whose parents allowed them to dress like miniature prostitutes.

  “Out,” she replied, since saying I’m going to hunt down and kill the Amityville Rapist would have been TMI at the time.

  “Is he cute?” Christi giggled. She had only recently realized that boys were cute and that was something to giggle about

  “Doesn’t matter,” Yolo chuckled. It really didn’t since he was going to die anyway. She planned to make it a closed casket affair when she found him.

  Yolo kissed her babies and playfully punched Christi in her arm before leaving the house. She had to pull her panties out of her ass twice before even reaching her car. The tiny shorts kept riding up in her ass causing her cheeks to jiggle in the night air. The half shirt showed it was possible to regain a six pack after giving birth. To make a long story short, Yolo was looking good. Rape bait as she called it.

  The brand new Audi Yolo drove contradicted her get up, so she parked it a few blocks away and walked the rest of the way to reach ‘The Block’. ‘The Block’ as it was dubbed was where most of the weed and coke was sold. All the dope boys milling around meant the girls would be both and forth looking for attention. It was the perfect hunting ground for a rapist.

  Yolo fell in step behind a couple of teen girls and walked over to The Block. She smiled at their banal talk about stuff that seemed so important at that age. None of the sneakers or purses they coveted would get them into college or a job and they definitely wouldn’t get them into heaven.

  “Sheesh,” Yolo said to herself at the legions of crackheads roaming the streets. The ones with money to spend moved briskly with a purpose. The broke ones staggered around like the living dead. Soul-less eyes searched the night for something to steal or suck in exchange for a few bucks. Even some of the men gave head for a blast. And plenty of the dope boys settled for one of them on a late night.

  Yolo clutched her clutch purse tightly as she walked amongst the living dead. Not because she was afraid someone would steal it, but because it contained a small but large caliber semi-automatic pistol. The compact 40 cal would make a nigga do a back flip if she hit them with it. She stuck her finger into the specially designed purse that allowed her to fire right through the bag.

  “Who got the fattest sacks?” Ratchet girl one asked her partner. She could only get ten dollars out of her selfish baby daddy and wanted to make the most of it.

  “Slick’s slick ass got some nice bags,” Ratchet girl two replied. “With his raping ass.”

  “He got you too? Nigga took me to the park and just took the pussy,” the first one shot back. They now had Yolo’s full attention.

  Slick was one of those dudes who believed that if he spent a few bucks, he was entitled to fuck. In his mind taking pussy wasn’t rape. He’d been doing it for years and no one had ever called the police on him. Some girls hung even hung out with him again afterwards giving him the opportunity to take it again.

  “Which one is Slick?” Yolo called out from behind the girls. They both turned with that ‘Bitch, who the fuck is you?’ look upon their faces. Good thing that they didn’t say it because they would’ve gotten their cute asses kicked.

  “The tall slim one, who think he cute,” Ratchet two replied and pointed to the group of weed peddlers standing in front of a Chinese restaurant.

  “I see,” Yolo said since Slick stood out by being tall, slim and cute.

  “Ooh girl! Where you get them sneakers?” the first one demanded.

  “Those are to die for!” the second one gushed.

  “No, no they’re really not. They were made in some third world country by a child worker for half a penny an hour, then shipped here and sold for two hundred bucks each to dumb ass black folk,” Yolo ranted.

  “So! At the mall?” they asked totally missing the point. Most do.

  Up close, Yolo noticed that Slick was a real pretty boy who liked pretty girls, who were pretty young. He preferred the newly pubescent because they didn’t expect much. He figured why spring for dinner, movies and hotel rooms, when a blunt and some cheap wine could yield the some results.

  ‘TURN UP 2000’ was the latest fad in cheap liquor. The good ol’ boys at the liquor companies always had a super strong product just for the ghetto. They knew that keeping them drunk would keep them fucking and fighting. That’s why they also owned the abortion clinics and the funeral homes as well.

  It was quite amusing to them to hire a black spokesperson to help push poison on his own people. There was usually always some dumb ass rapper willing to rap about getting laid, getting drunk, and killin’ a nigga.

  “’Sup Fredrika, Yvonne,” Slick said smiling at the two young girls when they came to cop a sack from him.

  “Nuffin’,’ Fredrika, known to Yolo as Ratchet one, shot back with her hand on her hip. “You know I don’t fuck with you!”

  “I know you ain’t mad! Girl, you know you wanted me to hit that!” he shot back grabbing his dick through his pants.

  “Whatever!” she frowned and snatched her weed. She made sure to toss her weave when she spun on her heels and stormed off.

  “Call me,” Yvonne whispered before rushing off to catch up with her friend. He turned and smiled down at his new customer.

  “What’s good, ma? Who you?” Slick demanded. He frowned up his face to show how fine he though she was. Yolo always wondered why men did that, but now wasn’t the time to think or ask about it.

  “Yolo. I heard you got them fat sacks of that good,” Yolo said putting on a good performance.

  “It’s all… good,” Slick said grabbing his dick once more and licking his lips like he was LL Cool J. In his case, the LL was about to mean no ‘Longer Living’.

  “Ki-ki-ki,” Yolo giggled like the young girl she portraying. She did take a gander at the handful of
dick though. Slick saw her and thought he had her.

  “A-yo, let’s go get us a bottle of ‘Turn-Up’ and turn up!” He offered like it was just the greatest idea in history.

  “Me! For real?” she asked wide eyed as if honored. She stifled a giggle at knowing he was the one who was going to turn up. Dead, that is.

  “Hell yeah with yo’ fine ass,” Slick said turning her to the side so he could peep her backside.

  “Well, okay,” Yolo conceded. She followed him into the corner store to get corner store stuff. She got a cigar, lighter and an ice cold bottle of Turn Up. He didn’t bother buying condoms since he planned to use her vagina as one; bust a nut in it and then toss her aside.

  “Shit, we may as well go park at the park,” Slick suggested when they reached his car. Good thing Yolo knew how to open a car door because chivalry was dead to dude.

  “Is it far?” Yolo asked wondering about how long it would take her to get back to her car since he’d be staying in the park since dead people don’t drive well.

  “Nah,” he lied and set off on the drive across town. The fifteen minute ride would take an hour on foot. That would mean a change in plans. A slight change to the where while the who, what, and when stayed the same.

  “Can we go under the pavilion?” Yolo asked, in the whiny voice of a teenage girl, when he parked the car.

  “Nah yo, let’s stay here,” he said smoothly and rubbed her smooth legs. Yolo was totally shocked when her vagina jumped from his touch. She was also surprised when her juices began seeping into her panties.

  “I can’t get my legs all the way open in a car,” Yolo pouted.

  “Come on!” Slick shouted and snatched her out of the car. She had to run to keep up with him to the pavilion.

  “I really don’t want to drink,” Yolo proclaimed when he cracked open the bottle. “Can you just eat my pussy first?”

  “I don’t eat no pussy, I beat the pussy,” Slick laughed like it was the funniest shit. At least he died with a smile on his face.

  “Oh okay, bye then,” she said twisting her lips ruefully. A tug on the trigger caused the 40 cal to back then bite. The heavy slug made him do a somersault when it hit him. Yolo was so impressed, she held up an imaginary scorecard to judge the flip. “Ten!”