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Thursday, December 13, 2007

Holding Back A Big-Assed, Angry Tigress


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Nonfiction prose about life at a weekly rate crack motel.

by Jolie Blond
02/12/02


I heard screaming outside my crack motel room door
and poked my head out

and saw that seven or eight other motel inmates

had poked their heads out their doors,

not that screaming is so unusual here,

but being 4 in the afternoon,

it's a little early for the crack motel screaming.

Down the hallway
past the locked swimming pool

that is used as nothing more than a giant, wet ashtray

past the courtyard

that is used quite often
as a staging area for sheriff's deputies

(and then later on as a gathering place
for crackheads to share a glass pipe),

almost out in the parking lot

were two women screaming at each other,

their men holding them back from mutual combat.

The young, thin one was hopping around like a mongoose
as she screamed her insults
at the older, fatter one with dayglo orange hair

trying, it looked to me,
to find an open space between the barricading men

to land an overhead blow on the orange-haired lady.

The older lady's big bubblebutt ass jiggled like jello
every time she stomped her foot down

and from forty feet away

I could see the mad dog saliva
spraying from the older woman's mouth

as she called the younger woman a ho.

You a ho.
No you a ho.

No you a ho, bitch.

The discourse was not particularly illuminating
as to why the women were fighting.

Then the younger woman's man got into the argument
as the younger woman jumped back

and displayed several sweeping,
mongoose, gung foo moves

she had apparently seen on TV,

one of them I recognized
as 'The Crane' from "The Karate Kid."

She don't have to be no ho, Mongoose's man yelled,
I takes good care of my woman

she don't have to work a lick if I don't want her to,

we doing good, real good!

Then why you live in this dump you doing so good?
the older woman asked

and I thought the logic was impeccable,

unassailable,

but Mongoose's man,

a sturdy-looking rag-topped brother

surprised me

when he shot right back

We jus passing through ch'ere,

but you'll be hoing outta this motel
come the next millennium.

Lord, gawd amighty!
I heard the older woman's man exclaim

because I knew that he didn't want to have to tangle
with the ragtopped kid,

probably a gangbanger,

and I knew that he knew that if he didn't

after THAT insult

that his orange haired woman

would make life hell for him for weeks to come.

The older man was puffy
and pot-bellied from too many years on the couch.

He was in no shape

to tangle with any hotheaded gangbangers today

or tomorrow,

or the next day,

but his salvation came
at the whim of the mongoose woman

who twirled away
on some half-remembered appointment

drawing her ragtopped man away with her,

leaving the old man metaphorically holding

the still-smoldering tail

of his dayglo orange-haired tigress.

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