bj raped in the ghetto

    “Afternoon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  If you’ve come ta loot tha ship, well, I’m afraid tha captain won’t like dat much.  And she’s tha only one whoz ass can make it work,” I holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck knows; maybe I’d chanced upon practical bandits whoz ass was up in a cold-ass lil charitable vibe n' highly gullible.

      “Holy shit, is that… that’s tha Securitizzle Mare?” one holla'd wit a gleeful giggle.  Dat shiznit was a gangbangin' familiar voice.  As I remembered, he’d been beatboxin fo' me not ta bust a cap up in his ass tha last time I’d heard dat shit.  “Well, we come back ta Fallen Arch, n' not only do we find a sick oldschool boat but mah crew’s murderer too!”

      “Seriously, biatch?  That tha biiiatch dat capped Sidewinder?” another drawled.

      “Technically, Deus capped him,” I holla'd yo, but these ponies weren’t horny bout technicalities. Put ya muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel dis!  Da realization of whoz ass I was spread rapidly.

      “Bitch capped mah brudders…”

      “Ransacked our home...”

      “Took our property…”

      “She’s tha mare what tha fuck nicked mah crazy ass up in tha museum!” one shouted.

      Oh, dis was goin ta suck…

      “Yo ass fuckin dead,” a funky-ass buck growled as he pushed a funky-ass barrel against mah blindfold.

      I swallowed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  I couldn’t let dis be quick.  Once I was dead, they’d rifle tha ship.

      It would gotta be slow…

      I grinned as wide as I could. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  “Thanks fo' bustin me tha fuckin favor, jackass.  Go ahead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  Put me outta mah misery!” I yelled as I twisted mah head.

      Their shouts dropped ta a thugged-out dreadful silence fucked up by low chuckles.  Da glock was pulled away.  “No… you don’t git any favors from us, Security.”  And it smashed against mah face.

      Da funk fuckin started. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.

I tried ta put up a gangbangin' fight.  I done did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  My fuckin hairy-ass legs might done been useless yo, but I could still swin dem around, n' mah grill hit dat shiznit just fine.  They grabbed mah floppin hairy-ass legs n' hauled mah crazy ass grill down over a cold-ass lil crate.  “Let’s stop her floppin round once n' fo' all!” one hollared, n' tha others laughed as they pinned down mah leg.  Then I felt a sharp stab.  “Pin her down, Nails.”  Wait… what?

I didn’t scream.  Not all up in tha spike of pain dat went up mah foreleg as tha hammer struck tha head again n' again n' again n' again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  Nor did I scream all up in tha second, higher up.  Fuck dat shit, it wasn’t until tha third one, just below where mah elbow had been, dat I cried out, ta they laughter n' shit.  I called dem every last muthafuckin variant of ‘fuckers’ I could as mah other foreleg was nailed ta tha floor like a muthafucka.  No matter how tha fuck I tugged, they weren’t comin free.  Not without leavin mah hairy-ass legs behind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  My fuckin rear hairy-ass legs was hauled apart, n' one… two… three… they was nailed ta tha floor as well.

I squirmed n' jerked; I couldn’t help dat shit.  Every move hurt, which kept me moving.  “How’s it feel, playaaaaaa, biatch?  Yo ass took every last muthafuckin thang from mah dirty ass.”  That was tha one from Fallen Arch… I was gettin mo' betta at pickin up they voices.

I was barely able ta spit out, “I left you yo' game.”

“Yeah.  Well, let me pay you back fo' tha favor,” he replied. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  Then mah tail was lifted n' I felt a tongue.  I couldn’t help mah dirty ass, I started ta shake.  I knew what tha fuck was coming.  I knew damned well.  Hell, I was invitin it… any indignity, pain, or humiliation.

Just keep focused on mah dirty ass.

It didn’t hurt like tha nails.  Those had hurt more, certainly.  Fuck dat shit, as dat shiznit was pushed tha fuck into me, I cried out… much ta they delight.  And as they gots going, mah own biologizzle betrayed me, easin tha violation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  I hated it yo, but so long as I didn’t hear Scotch cry up as well, I could endure.  I had to.  And so I let dem fill me however they wanted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time.  And they laughed n' called mah crazy ass a supa-ho, as if lyrics could hurt me now, nahmeean, biatch?  Go ahead, I thought.  Take another ride.  Shoot another load. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  I can take dat shit.

I couldn’t do anything…  But I could take dat shit.

Again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.

And again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.

And again.

But eventually, even violation gets boring.  And then a funky-ass buck holla'd from nearby, “Finish her up.  I’m goin ta peep if there’s anythang else worthwhile up in here…”

Da fuck yo ass is.  I bit hard on what tha fuck was tryin ta choke me, makin his ass cry n' pull out.  Then I jabbed mah horn tha fuck into tha side of tha one who’d just spoken.

I blew up his wild lil' freakadelic guts all over me wit a magic bullet.

Fun time was over.

“Cunt son!  Biatch!  Whore!”  Pretty unoriginal gangsta yo, but they was upset as they stomped mah dirty ass.  I fired again n' again n' again n' again n' again n' again until one of dem gots a hoof round mah neck.  I struggled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  “Do dat shiznit son!  Do dat shiznit son!” they fuckin started ta cheer.

      I felt a sharp metal edge press against tha base of mah horn.

      One blow of tha hammer n' I screamed like I never had before.

      Two blows n' I felt blood trickle down mah face.

      With tha third, there was a resoundin crack, n' I felt a snap within mah head like a rubber crew breaking.  And I wailed like a gangbangin' foal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack.  Da pain of tha nails was nothing… not a god damn thang at all… compared ta all dis bullshit.  An integral part of mah dirty ass had been torn away.  Finally, I went limp, mah body glazed up in at least three kindz of bodily fluid as I lay there over tha crate.  “Enough… fuckin end dis biiiatch.”  My fuckin grill must done been maxed up in blood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg!  Wherever Roses was… I apologized ta her n' shit.

      “Come on… I can take… a lil more…” I whispered hoarsely, spittin up mo' than just saliva as I lay there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho.  Just a lil longer n' shit.  Just a lil more…

      …a lil more…

      Then I felt a sharp n' strangely cold pain erupt up in mah side.  Everythang seemed ta be oozin outta mah dirty ass.  What, didn’t I have enough holes, biatch?  “She’s done.  Now toss tha ship.”

      “Toss this, motherfuckers,” P-21 holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  Then there was a thugged-out dull thud n' da most thugged-out curious sensation… I couldn’t move at all.  “Stun grenade, courtesy of tha sand dawgs.”  Every bit of me was limp n' growin colda n' colda n' shit.  “No… no no no…” he muttered softly before da perved-out muthafucka summarized mah state sickly wit a tell, “Oh, shiznit son!  Lacunae biaaatch!  Lacunae, git up in here now!  She’s been jabbed!”

      …a lil more… I just had ta hang on a lil more…

      There was a gangbangin' faint pop n' a presence beside mah dirty ass.  “Oh… Blackjack…” was all her big-ass booty holla'd, n' her horn touched mah side.  Da warmth of her healin brought home tha pain yo, but tha pain reminded mah crazy ass I was kickin dat shit, yo.  It let me hang up in there…

      “Yo ass fuckers muthafucka!  Yo ass beasts muthafucka!  You… you touched her playa!  I’m goin ta cut off every last muthafuckin piece of y'all dat you put inside her playa!  I’m goin ta nail yo' fuckin hairy-ass legs ta a rock n' peep how tha fuck well you can swim, you motherfuckers!” P-21 screamed, n' I heard a thugged-out dull thump over n' over again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  My fuckin grill hit dat shiznit slowly as I fought ta speak… but dat shiznit was hard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  I was so tired. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  So sore…

      “Shh… lie… lie still…” Lacunae stammered up in mah mind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  “I… I'ma try n' find yo' horn, so check it before ya wreck it. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  Perhaps it can be reattached…”

      “Don’t…” I rasped softly.  I felt her ear on mah lips.

      “Don’t, biatch?  Don’t worry.  Us thugs won’t let dem git away wit this,” Lacunae swore.

      “No.”  I coughed softly.  “Don’t… kill… them…”

      Lacunae didn’t move a inch as P-21 continued ta rave n' stomp mah prone attackers.  “I don’t understand…”

      “Let them… go…” I holla'd softly.

      Lacunae was so startled her big-ass booty was rappin aloud. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  “Let… let dem go?!”

      P-21 finished his stomping.  “Let dem what?!”

      I concentrated on breathing; dat shiznit was all I could do.  My fuckin attackers simply groaned. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  “Bustin' them… won’t… make thangs… better.”

      “Blackjack… peep you, nahmean biiiatch, biatch?  Look at what tha fuck they did!”

      “I know… but I forgive them…” I rasped softly.  “I… hurt dem too… I… KNOW now…”

      “They aren’t worth yo' forgiveness!”  P-21 erupted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time.  “They’re raping, murderin meat son!  They’re scum!  They’re filth!  They need ta be wiped up son!  They need ta be capped as slowly as they… they hurt you, nahmean biiiatch, biatch?  How tha fuck can you spare them?!  They capped Tarboots muthafucka!  They almost capped Oilcan. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  They was goin ta bust a cap up in yo thugged-out ass.  And Scotch…”  Dude paused. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  “Where is she?” he axed up in a rush.

      I coughed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  “Safe… below.  Don’t let… let her see… still a kid… no matter… what… her big-ass booty says…”  I holla'd wit each heavy breath.  “P-21… I’m… dying.  Please.  Let dem go… fo' me…”

      “Why…” one of mah attackers rasped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  “He’s right.  We is scum… and… I don’t wanna die… but… why?”

      “A yellow… pony… once holla'd… do… mo' betta n' shit.  And I… don’t want… mah playas… to… kill.” I breathed slowly a moment.  “If you’re… dead… you can’t… do better…”

      “Yo ass crazy…” another of mah attackers murmured. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  “How tha fuck do you know we won’t just do dis again?”

      “I don’t,” I admitted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time.  I could hear P-21 grindin his cold-ass teeth up in frustration. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  “Just… do better… please… just… do better…” I begged. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!  I couldn’t give back ta dem what tha fuck I’d taken… but I could give dem two thangs… a second chizzle n' mah forgiveness.  I was probably dead soon anyway.

      I heard tha sound of Lacunae draggin dem out.  “I will… remove them, per yo' wishes.”

      I saved four mo' n' mo' n' mo'.  They might done been scum, straight-up n' straight-up.  They might done been mo' betta off dead, n' maybe they would do dis again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.  Maybe I’d done cooked up a wack mistake.

      But they at least had a cold-ass lil chizzle ta do better…

      After dat there was tha problem of removin mah hairy-ass legs from tha floor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.  With dem gone, Lacunae tried pryin tha nails up yo, but they’d been hammered deep n' tha feelin of dem bein withdrawn nearly stopped mah ass.  Oilcan was fucked up but would recover n' shit.  Unfortunately, there was no recoverin from a cold-ass lil case of dirtnap.  There was only one thang ta do.

      “Git some rope… n' make shizzle dat knife is sharp,” I holla'd on tha fuckin' down-lowly.

      Four tourniquets n' some sawin later n' I was free.  Lacunae set me up in tha bunk.  My fuckin whole body wouldn’t stop bobbin.  I thought dat mah ass would stop at any second as I shivered but couldn’t seem ta warm.  I felt filthy, like some kind of astrological discharge.

      But I’d saved Scotch n' four others.

      For that… I could endure.