DYCHO

DYCHO

The sky was a calm blue Caribbean sea with scattered cottonballs that strolled throughout the sky like herds of sheep. The Shepperd was no where in sight so the clouds roamed sinfully. Graham Greene would calls this heaven. But for those of us living in San Diego the day was a typical gorgeous day, an average day of the beauty and the rest of the world. I was chillin’ at Stephanie’s house (lesbian friend of my ex-wife) waiting for my ex-wife to meet me at Stephanie’s place for Trivial Pursuit night. Stephanie, Karla (Stephanie’s very hot, fine-ass roommate and lover), and myself were laxin’ on the couch watching “Howard the Duck” on Netflix. And yes, we were smokin’ some weed too. It was at this time my eyes and my mind wandered onto Karla’s legs resting across from me. Her legs were a force that were bringin’ me into a place much more powerful than me. But I’m sure the weed had something to do with this pullin’ force. And don’t be alarmed I wasn’t being a creep and being married man at the same time. I was just being a creep. I had forgotten I was married for a minute. I knew how to separate the two without gettin’ caught. But I digrest. Her legs were long but not too long….firm….caramel….and her yoga shorts were short, tiny, huggin’ tightly to that 23 year old ass. Almost like some panties just without some pretty lace. Her tank-top with no bra wasn’t exactly helpin’ the situation either. Karla was a shorter Sophie Monk type before there was a Sophie Monk. But I digrest. Being that I knew Karla really well, I don’t think she would have flipped out if she caught me peekin’ at her legs. She would have appreciated the thought as a nice gesture, a compliment. Like Digable Planets, Karla was cool like dat.
Stephanie got up off the couch and made her way into the kitchen. The fridge opened and the sound waves of a bag of cookies being released to the wild vibrated toward the T.V. room. “Hey…Sailor come here for a sec and help me out.”
“Karla…do you want something to drink?” I asked as I headed to the kitchen.
“No thanks.” She replied.
I walked into the kitchen and the first thing Stephanie did was pinch the hell out of my arm. “Don’t be checkin’ out my bitches legs.”
“What are you talkin’ about, girl?”
“I saw you takin’ a peek at Karla’s legs. Don’t think for a second that I wouldn’t tell El.” Stephanie threatened as she stepped up to my face. Steph meant business. By the way, El was my wife at the time.
Stephanie came off as a pretty threatening individual to most people. She was a really tall, big bone girl with a mullet and a tattoo on her forearm that read, “Da Bitch.” Once a person got on her good graces then she would be the sweetest, coolest dike of all times. But this time, I really felt she meant business the way she stood up to me. Steph was so protective of Karla. As well as she should. Dikes are very jealous creatures when it comes to their bitch. She took a step back and with crazy eyes she joked, “Don’t be scared. I was just foolin’ with you. I like the fact that you were salivating over her legs. She has some fine ass legs. I love fuckin’ her.”
I closed my eyes for a sec picturing her legs and replied, “Ya, she does.”
The timer from the microwave went off and then Steph grabbed a dish of chocolate chip cookies from the belly of the microwave and placed the cookies on a tray. And just before we both raced back to the couch to check out Karla some more we poured out some milk for our cookies in coffee mugs.
“Nice….cookies”. Karla expressed with weed delight.
I have to be honest here. When Karla leaned forward to grab a cookie her thong sneaked out and I thought, “My eyes have seen the glory.” Then I thought why is she wearin’ a thong with short, tight, yoga shorts? I was confused. But what wasn’t so cool was when I looked over to Stephanie to see if see caught me again and sure enough she did as she nodded her head in disbelief. She had that “control yourself” look on her face. I’m sorry…she also wore an itty-bitty tank top too like I mentioned earlier. Her breasts were perfectly sized and shaped. Her breast reminded me of two scoops of ice cream with a cherry on top—baskin robins. Karla reached forward again and grabbed another cookie, and once again I looked again at her thong. I couldn’t believe what I was seein’. I mean it wasn’t the first time I’ve seen a liberated thong. I couldn’t help it. It’s the weed I tell ya. Believe me people. The weed be lettin’ you know. Karla came back up and snuggled back into the couch, and replied, “These are some good chocolate chip cookies.”
“Ya..they are.” I expressed as my eyes combed over the skin of her perfect body.
Stephanie got up in a furious manner. “Okay…that’s it Sailor. Karla go to the bathroom and get the shower going…now!!” Stephanie shouted. Karla got up off the couch and headed to the bathroom like an obedient love slave. Stephanie then looked over at me with a pissed off look. “Do you want to see it? Ha….do you want to see it? Do you want to see her fucking body, asshole?”
With my hands up in the air playin’ dumb I replied, “What the fuck are you talking about, Stephanie?”
“Look…don’t play dumb here, buddy. I know you want to see her body, so you are going to see it.”
“Okay…but do I have to see your body too. Because I wouldn’t feel comfortable. I mean nothing against your body but.”
“What about my body? I’m big girl…is that what it is?.”
“No..no…that’s not the problem.”
Stephanie spun around, stormed out of the T.V. room, and shouted, “Whatever…asshole.” Before I could blink Steph was back in the livin’ room at the other end of the couch. “Come with me, asshole. I want you to witness this.”
I followed Stephanie to her bedroom. She closed the door after me and started to undress. “Don’t like at me, fucker.” But it was hard not to look because to my left was a wall of mirrors and to my right was a wall of mirrors. It was a lose lose situation. So I just closed my eyes and let my ears guide me—shit was crashin’ to the ground, doors were opening and closing, things were thrown at my feet. With all the rukus coming from the room it sounded like Stephanie was transforming into the Hulk.
“What are you doing?” Stephanie asked.
“Nothing.”
“I hope you aren’t looking?”
“Trust me…I am not looking.”
“Good...because now you can look.”



I spun around and I looked in the direction of her closet. It took a second or two for Stephanie to walk out. The immediate sight of Stephanie caused me to rub my eyes. Not once but twice. She walked out with a vintage, curly, grey wig on her head. She had on a vintage, blue grandma sun dress that had pretty daisy patterns, old stockings that barely held on below her knees, and a pair of baby doll shoes. And in her right hand was chrome, shiny dildo looked like that “silver bullet” model I’ve seen at Dreamers. The first thing that came to mind was Norman Bates from the movie “Psycho.” Stephanie slowly raised the vibrator up in a stabbing motion and instead of the infamous score of the shower scene in Psycho, the sounds of the vibrator throbbed around the room. That’s when I thought, “Dycho.”
“That’s a really fucking crazy get up you got there, Steph..
“You think?”
“Umm..ya.”
She walked pass me with the vibrator still running and said, “You haven’t seen nothing yet”.
So I turned around and followed Stephanie out of her room and into the hallway. We came up to the bathroom door and Stephanie stopped at the foot of the door. With her left hand she grabbed the doorknob and twisted the knob over very slowly without making a sound like a thief in the night. She looked at me and “HUSHED” me with the vibrator placed over her lips. I was fucking excited by now. All I did was nod my head yes. Man…my heart was racing fast. It wasn’t a scary anxiety fast, it was more like a little boy anxiously waiting for the doors of Disney Land to open for the day. First time visitor to Disney Land feelin’. I had goose bumps all over my body and even the hair follicles on the back of my neck were trumbling in excitement. I had no clue to what to expect once Stephanie opened that door….but I had an idea. And that idea was watching fine ass Karla in the flesh with warm shower drops running down her body. My balls felt like they were on X as I pictured Karla on the other side of the shower curtain.
Stephanie slowly, quietly pushed forward against the door trying not to make a sound. I guess she didn’t want to alarm Karla that we were coming in. This moment had to be perfect. Someone was definitely in for a surprise, and I started to believe it was me. I mean it couldn’t have been Stephanie because she seemed like she had done this before. She went through the motions routinely and calmly, and I think Karla had an idea. She knew her role like Maggie Gyllenhall in the Secretary. Stephanie inch by inch slowly opened the bathroom door, and a little trail of steam peeked around the crack of the door and escaped into the hallway, and into my nose. I barely got a whiff of the steam and it was magical. Disney Land was at my finger tips. The door was opened enough so that Stephanie sneaked around the door, and I followed tiptoeing behind Stephanie. Once we were both in the mist of the steam room my heart started to hurt. The room was densely filled of steam yet Karla was still very visible on the other side of the shower curtain. It started to become really hot in here. So I made sure to be extra quiet tiptoeing to the left side of Stephanie so that I could get a better view of Karla’s body. The whole moment was becoming more and more like “Psycho”: the steam filled up the bathroom, shower head splashing over a bare naked work of art, a dressed up grandma, a vibrator took the place of the kitchen knife, yet the scene was still very much suspenseful.
Stephanie stepped up to the foot of the tub and I tiptoed off to the left of her and straddled the toilet for the best seat in the joint. I was in the perfect spot with nothin’ in the way. Through the shower curtain I could see the water splashing the jaw droppin’ curves of Karla’s back as she rubbed soap all over the front of her body. My only wish was I wish I had some ice tea or something to drink. The cotton mouth was chokin’ me. I could feel blood flow racin’ on all through my body, especially on the other side of my zipper. Stephanie reached out to the far end of the shower curtain and once she got a solid grip on the curtain she flung the curtain wide open. Karla turned around ever so slowly. She wasn’t startled at all. She was in a happy place. Her fingers were combing out the soapy suds out of her hair and the suds slowy slithered down her peaks and valleys never missing the pulse of her heart beat. She gave us a full frontal view of her body. “My eyes have seen the glory,” I thought. The running water glistened over her breast, cleavage, and the soaps suds blanketed her nipples. The shampoo bubbles slid down her long firm torso, splashin’ over her itty bitty patch of hair, and down her candy, sweet legs. I looked down to see her feet and her toes were the cutest thing, to die for really. To this day, I still haven’t seen a woman with a fiery, hot body like hers. Karla’s body was absolutely amazing. From her neck to her shoulders and to her breast and to her belly and to her hips to her landing strip and to her legs and then her toes, and back again. Karla’s body was real. No plastic surgery, no collagen injections, nothing was fake about her. With all these emotions runnin’ wild I was pleased I held it together this long.
Karla’s hands caressed over her plum, round breasts and started to massage them very seductively, passionately. Her fingertips brushed around her nipples. It was so hot….so hot in the room right now. My balls were on X. And so was my shaft. All my eyes could muster up was, “OH MY GOD….OH MY GOD…OH MY GOD”. Karla’s left hand slowly worked down around her belly and her right hand worked around both breast. The whole time her eyes never left mine. I was seduced.
“Hi Sailor.” She delicately sung out with shower drops dripping and glistening from her curvy lips.
“Hi Karla,” was all that I could muster up. Words were not apart of this equation.
Stephanie looked over her shoulder looking right at me and gave me a special WINK. All I could do was nod my head yes. And I mean both heads said yes today.
“Turn around…Karla.” Stephanie ordered.
As the stream of luke warm shower droplets ran down her breast, she about faced slowly with both hands spread across the shower wall but her eyes never left mine. A stampede of raindrops flash flooded downstream off her hair and down her back. Her eyes locked right on mine, and never did she look at Steph. Her eyes had fuck me all over them. But then again, it could have been for Stephanie too or just the weed. “OH MY GOD….OH MY GOD….OH MY GOD,” was all that was runnin’ around in my head—both heads. The rain showers dropped onto her shoulders into the valley of her back and down her backside, over her sweet ass. “OH MY GOD’.” Stephanie and her orgasm filled dildo carried on forward through the right of passage toward Karla’s garden of sin. OH BY THE WAY…WHAT A GREAT GARDEN!!” The head of the vibrating dildo now reached out toward the lips of her garden like a hungry pest. “MMMMMMM.MMMMM…..MMMMMMM..MMMMMM….MMMMM”. The vibrator hummed away on the lips. Man….I got to be honest. My unit was so breaking through my pants right now. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The Hulk was getting mad on the other side of the zipper.
Karla spun around and now her frontal was meltin’ my mental. She raised her left leg on the tub and was spread open. She started shoving her body into the throbbing vibrating dildo like a tornado on coke. It was really hot. So hot I had to take my shirt off. The steam from the hot shower kept pulsating in the room causing me to feel faint. Or could have been Karla’s thrusting position.
I’m starin’ at Karla’s face and looking back at her penetrated garden to the heavens. I kept on lookin’ back at ther eyes and back down to her garden. She was my favorite day dream comin’ to life. I couldn’t tell what was more alluring her face or garden. And as I looked back at Karla’s face again, I noticed her eyes were locked onto to me like a wolf starrin’ down a rabbit. She huffed and puffed animalistic style and a hunger look lingered in her eyes. It was obvious. So was becoming an animal of the pleasurable kind. Anyways, I hopped off the toilet and tapped Steph on the shoulder.
“Can…I get closer?”
“Sure..come here Sailor.” Steph replied as she grabbed a hold off my left hand. With no shirt and my shaft noticeably poppin’ out from the inside of my pants, I stepped forward alongside Stephanie. I reached out with my right hand and so softly caressed Karla’s ass with my index finger. Just one finger was all I needed really.
“Do you want to hold on to it?” Stephanie asked.
The same right index finger that caressed on Karla’s ass was now gripped around a vibrating machine. I didn’t have to do nothing. She shoved her self right into me over and over again. It was really an amazin’ feelin’. Karla’s juices started oozin’ down the vibrator and onto my fingers—a baptism moment. Her Jedi mind tricks were working on my eagerly awaiting zipper that only had one thing on its mind, “FREEDOM.” Seconds into observing her garden, I looked down at my crotch and my zipper was wide open—Jedi mind tricks. My shaft was huffin’ and puffin’ like a wolf just waitin’ to blow her house down, and believe me I didn’t forget about my wife but my shaft did. Real quick. He suddenly had amnesia. He had Karla’s garden in sight.
“OH MY GOD”….Karla’s gasped as she grabbed a hold of me.
With my hands occupied I shimmied down my pants and boxers down and pass my hips. The only thing visible from my waist down was my gracious gardenin’ tool breathin’ on Karla’s pulsatin’ lips. Karla’s eyes and my eyes were honed in on each other. She had this animalistic look in her eyes. In one dance motion she kneeled down and ended up on her knees in the tub with her face at shaft level. Her left hand slowly reached out and grabbed my shaft and cradled my loins. Her face, her lips perched right on the head of my mushroom. She looked into my eyes. “My you have a pretty cock. I can smell a great fuck coming on.”
“YA…YOU’RE RIGHT.”
Her right hand gripped around my shaft firmly and her lips pressed passionately on my cock. As her lips started to slightly open up around my throbbing shaft, I felt a stern tap on my left shoulder. I kept my right eye on Karla’s lips that wrapped around my mushroom cap and my left eye scanned over my left shoulder. My left eye registered Stephanie tappin’ on my shoulder. “Gosh….What the fuck, Steph? Can you see this?” I stated pointing down at Karla.
“Sorry….I just want to see this happen…Okay Sailor. It’s gone to far?”
“Of course. Of course. You’re right?” I looked back down at Karla. “Five more minutes, Steph. PLEASE.”
As I stared back down at Karla, her lips had just wrapped around my mushroom. Gosh it felt so good. In mind head I kept repeating, “I don’t wanna believe or be in love. I don’t wanna believe or be in love.” I did so to keep the erupting sensation under control. Surely I didn’t want this moment to end ever so quickly. It sucks when it happens too soon—for both people. It is always a funny and awkward moment when it happens. You just got to laugh, especially when it’s a wet dream. And before I could hold on to this moment the fuckin’ alarm clock fired off, and it was time to go to work.

"but beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins"

Woke up this afternoon hungover and out of focus from last night’s party. The details are a bit distant so I’m not about to figure it out now. I’m just happy that I made it home last night or this morning. Finding myself on my couch was a lot better than finding myself in jail or blacked out on the side of the road with a sore asshole. I reached for my glasses from on top of the couch put them on, and slowly got myself into focus as I got off the couch. And as I planted my feet down my left foot stepped onto last nights Wendy’s hamburger and fries. The ketchup was all up and in my toes—a soothing feeling for my atheletes foot. I shook my head in disbelief and smirked. I did the same thing yesterday morning. Finally, I made it to the bathroom. I unzipped and pulled it out to take a piss. I didn’t hear the normal splish-splash so I looked down and, noticed I was pissing in the laundry basket full of dirty clothes. Some girl’s panties were in my dirty laundry but I didn’t pay any attention to the mystery panties, and just continued to piss. I looked over my shoulder and saw that the toilet was directly behind me. I laughed. I think I did the same thing yesterday too. Oh well…there was no time to pass judgement. I had things to do today. Important things. Priority 1: Find My Sandles. I even wrote it on my arm apparently last night so I wouldn’t forget. I zipped up and started lookin’ around for my sandles. These sandles were my favorite sandles, and really my only pair of shoes in the house. So findin’ my sandles was a must. Mi tia, Anna, got them for me from Mexico. I think the sandles were from TJ, but don’t qoute me on it. The sandles weren’t in the bathroom and they weren’t in the kitchen. So, I walked back to the living room thinkin’ the sandles were some place close to the couch. I stepped over last night’s beer cans and lost cigarette ends. I even found a set of girlie earrings which I thought was strange. Also, don’t worry about the carpets they were still clean. Every morning, I use to lay out old newspapers on the floor in the living room so that I wouldn’t dirty the carpets. I’m a big fan of clean carpets, especially when it’s time to collect the money from the deposit. And like that the song “Money in da bank,” blared out from a whip that cruised by on my block. “What timin’,” I thought.
Moreover, the more I searched the living room the more I realized that my place was a wreck—a shit show. Fortunately, most of the debris were empty beer cans and cigarette butts, and a broken nail. Shit that I can pick up and trash later. Priority 2: Take Out The Trash. For the record, my priorities are coming to me as my day progressed. Furthermore, the trash can in the kitchen looked like a wreck too I bet the trash can was about as hungover as I was with all the beer cans and bad food that bulged out from it’s waist line. I thought any second now the trash can was goin’ to vomit all over the kitchen floor. That being said, I still picked up the gross hamburger and fries, in the living room and immediately and gently placed it on top of the crowning trash in the kitchen. “DAT GROSS,” I thought as I gave the trash can a look over. The bulging overweight trash can probably had diabetes too judgin’ by all the remnants of the appetite for pleasure debris jammed inside. But I digress. Like I mentioned earlier, the sandles were a priority, so I walked back to the couch and kicked around the debris left over from last night. I didn’t find my sandles but I did find a plate with some coke, a good size roach, and some pills. No tellin’ what kind of pills they were. At this point the roach sounded liked a better idea than doing a rail. There’s no telling where I might shit if I do the line. I fired up the joint and thought it would be a great idea to hear some tunes while I searched for my precious sandles. I grabbed the remote to the stereo and started to rock out to Beach House. And that’s when I looked up at the stereo and noticed my sandles sittin’ on one of the speakers by the book shelf. At first sight of my sandles I was completely overwhelmed with happiness. The feelin’ was as if I just met every hot babe that I pleasured in any and all amateur porn sites. Finally, I was in a happy place today with my sandles in hand. And the feelin’ was mutual with my sandles too. For as I stepped closer and closer to my sandles the pair suddenly jumped out at me like a lonely frisky cat happy to see it’s owner. I guess the sandles were longin’ for me as much as I was longin’ for them. I think the sandles also just whispered, “I love you.” But I think it was just the weed. The weed be lettin’ you know sometimes too. So with no time to spare I slipped the sandles on and headed to the front screen door. I opened and shut the door with ease as my door had a tendency to spring back to a loud and grand slammin’ introduction to the world. And there to my left was my favorite porch chair, a folding chair, from Mexico, it wasn’t much of a looker but the chair did the job. I found the chair when I was crossin’ the border at TJ one Saturday night on my way back to the U.S. side. I stopped by this taco stand that I always hit up when I’m drunk called, “NTLB Tacos.” The name was short for no taco left behind. And there the chair was up against the taco stand bruised, battered, and in denial like a Mexican house wife named Lorna or Letty. The woman who made those delicious tacos was a nice and sweet lady, and she proposed a deal with me for the ripe price of $15 the chair was mine. Completely overpriced but I thought it was a steal, especially with the grease stains that made the face of Jesus, Jesus, my buddy who does my mom’s landscaping back home in Texas. Furthermore, the chair gave my porch some character but what kind of character I have no idea. I later discovered that the chair came with a bonus—the chair talked. Any time I stepped out onto the porch and was too high, the chair always convinced me to sit down with his broken English and Spanish accent. The chair sounded much like Speedy Gonzalez’s drunken cousin’s accent. And today was no different, “Seey homes, uuu kno tu want to sit down wit me.” So, naturally I sat down and puffed away.
As Beach House soothed my way into my day I noticed planet Earth was coming to life on my block. I sat on my porch, and I observed the life on my block like if I was doing some kind of a study for Chicano Geographic. The name of my block was Silver Soul, and not so much a hoodish name but more like a street name in San Fran. Directly across the street from my porch, Miss O’Connor, an older lady in her mid-80’s originally from Georgia, tended to her roses with her pink water sprout—prize winning roses too. She had on a purple and green polka-dot sun dress with her pretty white gardening hat that had a fresh cut daisy crowned over the left side of her garden hat. She was a nice, sweet lady. She always made me cookies for my birthday and fed me once a month. She needed the company and I needed to eat well at least once a month. Next to her on the left were the Smallies. They were a married couple of like six years and they were the first husband and wife lawyers to have openned up their own law firm in town who were midgets—small people to be exact. They often stayed to themselves but they were always up or down for a barbeque on Sunday afternoons or a Wednesday walk in the park with their dog, Munchies. I think he was a miniature pit bull, but don’t qoute me on that. I’m not goin’ to even lie, Munchies, scared me to pieces. Munchies reminded me of a baby Mike Tyson. Despite Munchies, I really liked my neighbors. Absolutely nothing wrong with good neighbors. Like I always said, “Invisible fences make good neighbors.” Speaking of fences and neighboors, the echoes of a slammed screen door rushed my way from my neighbor’s place on my left side. His name was, Scratch. A cool cat, a funny Jaimican, who just happened to me my weed dealer. With his Jaimican accent he shouted, “Say…brotha I see that you are rockin’ that sweet Beach House again. I come over and jam out, man.” In typical fashion, Scratch didn’t bother walkin’ over to his gate opening it and closing it, and walking over to my gate and doing the same. He just jumped over the fence and plotted himself down on the front steps—“da stoop,” as we call it on my block.
Scratch and I sat on the porch for what seemed like an hour, and didn’t say one word to one another. We just puffed away and became two members of the Beach House “Teen Dream” wolfpack. Silver Soul became alive right before my eyes some more. Lalo and his cousin, Chuey, cruised by in their low rider ’67 Impala cream colored exterior and interior with hydraulics to boot. On the hood of the whip there was a chrome grillin’ woman blowin’ in the wind. “Whip,” is a term for a car or ride in the Ghettovilles of America if you didn’t know that already. And as they faded away to the end of the block we could hear Dre’s “Let Me Ride” as they bent around the corner. Lalo and Chuey both lived a block over with their tia, Rose Mary. I think the street was, Norway, but don’t qoute me on that because I think the street name might be LoverOfMine. They were some chill vatos too but you wouldn’t want to cross them. They were from Mexican Mafia, La EME, roots. My other next door neighbor, Mr. Eastwood, he was a retired veteran of the U.S. Army served in Vietnam and some other skirmishes. He walked out of his house and started to wave but dropped his hand down as soon as he saw Scratch sittin’ next to me. I don’t think he liked Scratch much or any minorities. He was a complicated man and perhaps mean on the surface but he was actually quite nice if one was patient enough to get to know him. Two things to know about Mr. Eastwood, he always raised the American flag up every morning and lowered the colors at dusk, and never missed a day—never. And the second thing, shortly after raising the colors up the pole he watered his grass—front and back. Never missed spot or a blade of grass, and he made sure of it. That man loved his grass. He treated his grass better than his neighbors. Shit…..better than his wife and kids. That’s probably why they all left him years ago, and don’t bother coming by to see him. As for me, he was fond of me and invited me to dinner sometimes with him and his dog, Preacher. I like Preacher, he was a older German Sheppard who was gentle and loved attention unlike Mr. Eastwood. Moreover, for a lonely man who never had visitors, Mr. Eastwood, was quite the cook. I was always suprised after dinner how good his dishes were. Which was why I never minded his invitations or his company. I think the main reason Mr. Eastwood enjoyed my company was because I was a veteran as well, who could swap service stories. Mr. Eastwood called us veterans, “a dyin’ breed.” I agreed, a “dyin’ breed” we were.
Scratch got up off the stoop and suggested, “Say….brotha lets go for a walk. Look at the day, brotha. I don’t know about you but the winds be callin’ me. Let’s do this.” He dusted off his shorts and headed to the gate. I was a little hesistant to go for a walk at first because I was still a little woozy from last night’s party. I felt like any minute I was about to puke up last night’s fries. But I gave the idea a once over and I felt the stroll would be a great idea—fresh air. So I, too, got up and dusted off my shorts and headed to the gate. “So what’s your plan? Where we headin’, Scratch?”
“A walk, brotha. Just a walk.” He replied. Not soon after they closed the gate and started headin’ down the street. Scratch asked, “So what’s up with that girl from last night?”
“What girl?”
“Brotha, don’t play dumb. The whole neighborhood could hear ya two goin’ at. You guys were so loud sounded like she needed help.”
“What are you talkin’ about? I didn’t have sex last night. I would have remembered that for sure. Believe me, I haven’t had some in three months.”
Scratch passed over the joint. “Boi….you were cuttin’ up something, brotha. I thought for sure Miss O’Connor was gunna call the coyotes.” Scratch paused. “I was almost excited for you but then I was a little worried.”
“Scratch….I’m tellin’ you the truth. I don’t remember sleepin’ with any girl.”
Less than two blocks on Zebra St. a roller (police call) pulled up next to the boys. “Ya’ll two stop right there.” And the cop gets out of the car. “I’ve been lookin’ for you, Benny Alvarez.”
“I’m Detective Jordan vender Sloot,” the cop said as he pulled out his badge.
Scratch looked over at me. “Brotha…I didn’t know your name was Benny Alvarez. I was thought it was, Brotha.” Scratch paused for a sec to calm his nerves down because of the joint blazin’ away by his foot. As the cop approached the two Scratch asked again. “What the hell did you do last night, Brotha?”
I looked back over to Scratch and whispered. “Man, I’m sorry I don’t know. I really don’t know what the fuck happened last night.
The cop saddled up next to the two boys. “Alright, Benny, you’re coming with me downtown. I got some questions to ask you.”
“What the hell? Detective, what the hell am I been charged with? Please help me understand this.”
“Ya man, what did Benny do?” Inquired Scratch.
As the cop was readin’ my rights and handcuffin’ me, the cop turned back to Scratch, “Benny has been charged with brutally rapin’ a young teenage girl. Sixteen years of age, who is in intensive care as we speak. The reason why you don’t remember a thing, Benny, was because you drugged her and probably drugged yourself on accident as you were preparin’ to rape another teen dream.” The cop placed Benny in the roller and closed the door. “We seen these cases before, and now we finally got him. He’s had a long enough stretch of rapin’ women.” The cop said to Scratch as he made his way to his car door.
Scratch looked perplexed and dumbfouned. He couldn’t imagine his bestfriend doin’ something like this. But then again he often wonderd how Benny was always sleepin’ with the hottest of women. Tears began to roll down Scratch’s face. The roller slowly pulled away and just as Scratch started to see my face come crashin’ with tears. I suddenly turned my frown into a smile. A devilish smile that Scratch had never seen before. A Jack the Ripper or Dorian Gray kind of smile. It was a smile of a prince charmin’ in wolf’s clothing.