She Ain't Worth It ~ Part 2

Here's part two of this story.  Just like last week, this story has a lot of profanity in it. So if you're sensitive about that you may want to steer clear, or read another post (smile).  All feedback is greatly appreciated.

Once Quintina had put on her jeans and t-shirt, she shoved the shoe box under her arm, grabbed her purse in one hand and her keys in the other. She ran down the stairs and out the door. Quin, where are you going? She thought. You know you are not supposed to be drinking and driving. Fuck that, this is not something that I’m gonna let slide.


Quintina got off I240 at the Hollywood exit and went north. When she reached Dalana’s house on Brookmeade, she started beating on the door like she was the police.

“Hold on, goddammit,” Dalana yelled. When she opened the door and saw that it was Quintina, she just stepped back and let her in. “Quin, why are you looking all torn up on your birthday?”

“I’m on a rampage. Call that Tamesha bitch. I got a few choice words that I want to say to her,” Quintina said throwing her purse and keys on the couch. She had left her gun in the car under the passenger seat.

“What happened? She called the house or something?”

“Naw that bitch was in my house, in my bed, fucking my husband.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“The raunchy bitch sent me a tape of them. You remember when I told you that we had set the camcorder set up in the bedroom.” Quintina had started pacing back and forth across the room. Then she went into the kitchen and got one of Dalana’s coolers out of the refrigerator.

“Yeah, I remember. Shit, those are some bold muthafuckas. See, this is your own damn fault. If you hadn’t have been letting Tez get away with all that shit, this would have never happened. They think that you’ll never do anything.”

“I don’t think Cortez knew she was taping it. It looked like he was too torn up to even pay attention to anything she was doing besides freaking on him.”

“Don’t start making excuses for that niggah. That’s what you always do. Whether he knew she was taping it or not, he still fucked her.”

“I know. Get that bitch on the phone.”

“She’s at Schrhonda’s place right now,” Dalana said picking up the phone. “I need to pop some popcorn, this is gonna be better than the Tyson vs. Holyfield fight.”

Quintina was standing in the doorway when Schrhonda and Tamesha arrived. Tamesha automatically got all up in Quintina’s face. She started bragging about how she had Quintina’s man wrapped around her little finger and how she can take Cortez from Quintina whenever she got ready. Quintina tried her best to keep her composure but she couldn’t maintain. She finally got fed up with all the bullshit that Tamesha was shooting off about and suddenly grabbed a handful of Tamesha’s hair and punched her in the face. Then she pushed her out the door and let her fall down the steps onto the concrete carport.

After Tamesha had hit the ground, Quintina noticed that she had a big plug of her hair in her hand. She looked at Tamesha’s head and immediately noticed the patch where the hair had come from. Quintina almost started laughing before Tamesha stumbled to her feet, holding her head and cursing.

“Bitch, you got me fucked up.” Then she punched Quintina in the mid-section, making her doubled over in pain. Tamesha began to rant and rave again while Quintina was trying to recover. She had all sorts of murderous thoughts going through her mind but couldn’t figure out how she could carry them out without it resulting in a 25 to life prison sentence.

“Bitch, Cortez is my man first, hoe. If it wasn’t for your square ass, I would be Mrs. Cortez Robinson. But that’s alright though. I can still get the dick whenever I want it. You think that was the first time? Oh no, honey. We have been fucking since day one. He came over my house the first night y’all met at that basketball game. Yeah, he had you thinking there wasn’t anything between us. That’s just how we do it. Even though he acts hard he can’t live without this pussy. Now, what do you have to say about that?”

Quintina finally straightened up and looked Tamesha dead in the eyes. Tears partially impaired Quintina’s vision but she wiped them away. Quintina felt as if she were moving in slow motion. It was sort of like her body was moving by itself because it surprised even her when she rushed into Tamesha like a bull. When Tamesha hit the ground with a loud thump, she moaned in agony. Then Quintina straddled her and began to repeatedly pound her fists into Tamesha’s face.

She talked to her in a surprisingly calm voice, almost scary. “You know what, hoe? You can have that hoe-ish ass niggahs. I don’t need all this drama. I hope all the dick you’ve been getting over the years has been worth this ass whipping. Both of you selfish motherfuckers deserve each other.”

Quintina pounded until her arms got tired and her fists began to throb. Once on her feet, she coughed up a big blob of phlegm and spit it in Tamesha’s face. “I hope you two have a wonderful and fulfilling life together.” Then she began walking slowly towards her car. Before Quintina could reach her car door—SMACK, she arched her back in pain and turned around quickly. She saw that Dalana was holding Tamesha who had a bat in her hand. Tamesha didn’t say a word; she just stared at Quintina through her swollen eyelids.

Quintina remembered seeing the bat propped against the wall under the carport when she and Tamesha had come out of the house but was too distracted to worry about where it came from. She knew it hadn’t been there when she first arrived at Dalana’s house. Or was it? She was too tired to figure it out.

“Bitch, I ought to shoot your ugly ass right now but I ain’t trying to be going to jail for no piece of shit like you,” Quintina said opening her car door and sliding in.

Shoo Bugaboo

If you have no idea what a bugaboo is, let me explain. There was a guy that was interested in me but he called too much and he wanted to come over my house all the time and he would constantly asked me when we were going to have sex. The only “date” we went on was when we went down by the river. I sat in the car and he sat on the bank until a rat ran across his foot and made him drop his beer. He was ready to go home after that.

The http://www.urbandictionary.com/ has several different definitions for a bugaboo but this seems to fit my situation perfectly.

I mean this guy was a 41 year old teenager. He would run back and forth from my house to his mom’s house three or four times a day talking about he was board. When I pulled into the driveway, he instantly came outside and walked across the street as if he was sitting right in front of the door or window waiting on me to get home. Sometimes he would be sitting on the porch or in his car watching my house. He said his mother told him that he smothers people and he asked me if I agreed. When I told him yes, he got all bent out of shape.

Never in my life had I known a guy that constantly fished for compliments.

Dude: “I’m ugly ain’t it? Don’t you think I’m ugly?”

Me: “No, you’re not ugly.”

Then he’d turn around with his butt to me.

Dude: “I’m fine ain’t it? My cousin said that all of the men in my family were fine.”

Me: “Well, you’re attractive.”

In all actuality, he was ugly and he was not fine at all. He had hazel eyes but the bloodshot practically made his eyes look like two big brown blobs. Sometimes he would wear the same clothes two days in a row. He smelled like beer every day no matter what time it was. Even when he said that he had just gotten out of the shower, he smelled like beer.

He was also a bum. He had no job and no prospects. Dude couldn’t go job hunting (even if he wanted to) because his license was suspended for a DUI. Plus he hadn’t paid the guy down the street for the car and I think he was afraid he would get pulled over and get the car taken. Every day he asked me or several of the other neighbors to buy him beer when his mama didn’t buy him any. Dude begged for money to add minutes to his cellphone. And I hear he tried to pay his phone bill with a check that he found in the car that the guy down the street gave him. (Not sure how true that was but hey you never know.) One day all I had was a bag of breaded chicken patties in my freezer, about six of them. He begged for those. And came back the next day asking me what I was cooking.

Like I said, I put up with this for a week and a week only. I told him that THIS whatever THIS was wasn’t going to work because he required more of me than I could give. “What do you mean?” he asked. I told him that the constant sex talk was getting on my nerves but it was so much more than that. Don’t get me wrong, if I had really been into him, honey child he wouldn’t have had to ask. But he already knew why I wasn’t that into him. I had told him several times throughout that week until I got tired. Then D started telling him he smelled like beer. It had nothing to do with him hearing me say it because I never said it around D. My son is very perceptive and not afraid to speak whatever is on his mind.

Not a day passed that Dude didn’t ask me when I would have sex with him or why I was acting like I didn’t want him. It was so annoying. Everything about him annoyed me. His walk, the way he talked, his smell, the stupid things he said, foolishness all the way around.

I had never in my life met a guy in his forties with so many strikes against him. And what’s sad is that he thought he was a catch. He really thought he had it going on with his drunk, no job having, begging, want to fine behind.

Goodbye bugaboo and good riddance.

She Ain't Worth It ~ Part 1

I usually don’t write in third person but I decided to switch it up a little bit. I’m revisiting a scene in “Her Leftovers” where Tamesha decides to let her presence be known. WARNING: There is quite a bit of swearing in this story.

~ Let me know what you think. All feedback is welcome. ~


“Quintina, you didn’t have to come to work on your birthday. I told you that you could take off since you did such a good presentation at the conference in Atlanta,” Craig said walking into Quintina’s office with a bouquet of roses and a bag with Happy Birthday printed on it.

“I just wanted to look over these reports before I turned them in. I’ll be leaving after lunch.” Quintina’s attention was focused on the computer so she didn’t see what Craig was carrying until she looked up. “What’s that you got there?”

“Oh, the guy just dropped this off so I decided that I would bring it in for you. Cortez is so romantic, I wanna grow up and be just like him,” Craig said wiping away imaginary tears.

“Thanks Craig, with your silly self.”

“No problem Mrs. Robinson,” he said as he walked out of her office and closed the door behind him.

Quintina played it cool until her boss walked out then she pulled the light blue bag with white letters on it to her and pulled out the white and blue tissue paper. Cortez must have gotten somebody to help him with this because he’s never took the time to find tissue to match the gift bag, she thought. When she had finally gotten all of the tissue unraveled, she found a video tape. I wonder what’s on it. Dalana did say that she told Cortez that I wanted him to learn how to strip for me; maybe that’s what it is.

When Quintina got home she ran straight to her bedroom so she could look at her present. She put the tape in the VCR and walked over to the nightstand and pushed play on the remote. At first she just saw Cortez laying on the bed smoking. That ain’t no cigarette, that’s a blunt, I’m gonna kick his ass. Then she saw a dark skinned woman get in the bed with him. What the fuck? They began kissing and touching each other. He turned the blunt around and put the lit end in his mouth and put his mouth to her nose and blew the smoke in. I can’t believe this shit. I need a drink.

Quintina paused the foolery and went downstairs to the kitchen and pulled Cortez’s bottle of vodka out of the freezer. She got a Sprite out of the refrigerator and poured some of it into a plastic blue cup. She had intended on making her drink half liquor half soda but she decided to grab another cup and fill it to the rim with vodka. She took a swallow of her drink. It burned going down but it wasn’t nowhere near as uncomfortable as it would have been under normal circumstances. She was already on fire.

When Quintina got back up to her room and restarted the tape, the first thing she saw was the woman get up and go over to her dresser and pick up the bottle of Motion Lotion that Quintina and Cortez used quite frequently. Quintina finally got a good look at the skeezer and realized that it was none other than, Tamesha. That bitch! Tamesha got back into bed with Cortez and opened the bottle pouring some of the strawberry flavored lotion on her hand and rubbing it on his penis. Then Tamesha lowered her head and filled her mouth. I can’t believe they’re doing this in my house, in my bed. I want to kill them so bad, but neither one of them are worth going to jail over.

Quintina had finished her drink when she noticed that there was music playing in the background on the tape. Then, as if right on cue, Tamesha pulled away from Cortez’s groin and walked over to the radio. She turned up the volume a few notches, looked at the camera, then sauntered over and turned her ass to the camera. No that bitch didn’t just jiggle her flabby ass butt cheeks in my face. She went over and climbed on top of Cortez, facing the camera so Quintina could see the expression on her face. …Still in love with… Quintina threw her cup toward the TV, barely missing the screen.

“Our fucking wedding song! Aw, it’s on now,” Quintina yelled out loud. She reached under the bed and pulled out the shoe box that she kept her loaded .45 millimeter in and put it on the bed so she would remember to take it with her. But first she had to change into her beat down clothes.

Relationship Stance: Traditional vs Modern

I guess my view of how a relationship should be is in between traditional and modern. I mean, every guy I date knows how to cook so we take turns doing that. As far as working and paying bills, I think we should do that together as well. I’ve never had the desire to be a housewife, but I would have liked to stay at home with my son his first two years but I wasn’t in a position to do so because I’m a single mother. I had a career before my son was born so I couldn’t just stop working, I didn’t have that big of a support team.


My original plan was to be married before I had a child but that didn’t transpire, so I’m making the best of it. Now I have one guy who seriously wants to marry me but he has no job and he lives with his mom. He’s never lived on his own, well let me clarify that. He’s had roommates, live-in girlfriends, a brother and cousins that he’s shared a place with. There was never a time when he was the only one responsible for taking care of all the bills. I have a problem with that. I’ve worked continuously since my last two months in high school (17 years ago) and I have lived on my own for more than half of that time. Yeah, it is hard out here for a sister but I do what I gotta do.

Over the years, I’ve found myself in relationships with guys that didn’t have a job when I met them but I got with them anyway thinking that maybe I could help them get on their feet. I learned the hard way that some guys really don’t want to work. They rather stay at home and keep the house clean and cook while the woman goes to work. This is where my traditional views come in. I do not consider a man the head of my household if he cannot pay the house note. Some women have a problem with allowing the man to make most of the decisions for the household, but I don’t if I believe that he will do what is best for the family. I mean, if we have been together for a while and the guy loses his job, I won’t kick him out because he has shown me that he wants to pull his weight. Of course, he’s gonna have to go do something to bring in some money: cut grass, wash cars work at McDonalds—until he finds something better.

I talked to a lady on Twitter a few days ago and she said she shared my views with a couple of guys and they said they couldn’t be with a woman that couldn’t hold it down. Now that made me mad because either she or they didn’t read all of my tweets or those guys are just bums. I go to work every day and I work too hard and put up with too much mess at work to come home and look up in the face of some guy that can’t even pay the damn phone or cable bills. That makes me hot all over. If the fact that I won’t take care of a man the reason why I’m single, I’ll be single for life. I’m not teaching my son that he’s supposed to stay at home while his wife goes to work every day. They should be working together to have something.

Despite my traditional views, I don’t even think it’s a good idea for a woman not to have some kind of job. She needs to be selling Avon, doing hair or babysitting to bring some money in. My dad always told me that an idle mind is the devil’s workshop. This means, if a person doesn’t have anything constructive to do, they will be thinking of all kinds of devilment to do.

These are my opinions but everyone is entitled to their own. Please share your views with me.

Once Was Blind ~ Part 2

“This is Roshelle’s first night out and you know she wants to spend some time with me,” Darnell said. He had called me at work so I couldn’t curse him out like I wanted to.

“Do you want to come over and hang out with us?” he asked.

I declined. I knew she wanted to have sex with him and I wasn’t about to sit there and watch them, and I definitely wasn’t going to participate in any freaky stuff.

My dad helped us move that next day. Once we got most of the furniture into the house, we all just sat around trying to catch our breath. I went in what was to be Darnell’s room, to think about what I had gotten myself into when Daddy walked in.

“Hey, Baby?” he asked.

“What’s up?”

“You know you can always come home when you want to, don’t you?”

“Yeah, everything’s all right though.” I wasn’t’ ready to let my dad know that I had royally screwed up, but I think he could read my expression anyway.

“Well, you have a key, so you can come get some air whenever you need to,” he said as he hugged me.

Roshelle spent the night every Monday and Tuesday. Darnell would ask me to help her dry him off when he got out of the shower. I always refused. I already had to deal with the fact that my man was sleeping with another woman, in the very next room; there was no way I was going to act like I was happy about it. I remember a couple of conversations Darnell and I had about his dream of marrying an older woman who was an ex-hooker. So, whenever I looked at Roshelle with spandex clung to her heavy-set body, I wondered why I was even there. I often took Darnell outside to talk about some of the things that made me uncomfortable. Like the love letters she left around the house. Especially one that went into graphic detail about how much she enjoyed performing oral sex on him (I guess that’s why she didn’t bother to wear her false teeth that much).

“Like it, like it, or dislike it. You can roll whenever you get ready,” he would say in response to my complaints. It was as if he didn’t even care if I was happy or not. It didn’t matter that he was only working part-time for a guy who threatened to fire him every week, when I’d had two steady jobs for several years and I paid the majority of the bills. It didn’t matter that his family and friends loved me, but couldn’t stand Roshelle. It didn’t matter that I had stuck by him for his last three years in prison, and all she could do was write him letters for a year and a half. None of that mattered. He felt that he had tried to make other people happy for most of his life. I realized that I had been doing the same thing myself and I was sick of it. So one night, when he had returned from Roshelle’s house, I was in my room packing. When he walked into my bedroom, I snatched my car keys from him and put them in my pocket.

“Don’t you ever snatch anything from me,” he growled. He raised his hand as if to strike me, but I hit him first. He pushed me down on the floor. I got back up and started taking my boxes to the car.

“So, you’re just going to change horses in the middle of the race?” he asked, walking behind me.

“I don’t feel like hearing that pimp shit tonight. Leave me alone.”

“You don’t tell me what you feel and don’t feel. I tell you what you CAN feel and CANNOT feel.”

I wanted to scream but I didn’t want to wake up his children. I wanted to tell him that I had wasted my time and money on him and that I hated him for putting me through all of that nonsense. It felt like I was going to have a heart attack and a stroke trying to hold in all of my emotions, but I made it through.

I know it sounds foolish, but I still miss him sometimes, but not enough to go back. Darnell and Roshelle made me mad enough to kill, but I’m not going to give up on finding a good guy. I just have to keep my eyes open.