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His jaw clenches. “See. Here you go with ya hands, again. You always buggin’; for real, Cass. And then you wonder why I left ya crazy ass.”
I put a hand up on my hip. “Oh, puhleeze. Be clear. You left me because I let you leave. I was done with your triflin’ ass after the first three weeks. But, it’s mighty funny Mister ‘That’s Why I Left You’ that your black ass keeps comin’ back for me.” I throw the money in his face. “Take your ass back home to that fat, bald-headed, flat-ass bitch you fuckin’.”
“Bitch, suck my dick with that dumb shit.”
“Oh, motherfucka, I see you wanna get it poppin’ out here, huh? I’ma show you how I’ll suck your dick, niggah.” Before he knows what hits him, I whip out my can of mace and do him real dirty.
“Aaaaah, fuck! Shit! What the fuck!” He coughs and gags, droppin’ down to his knees.
“You bring your black ass over here for some pussy,” I say, kickin’ him. “But don’t have my motherfuckin’ money”—I kick him again, then slap him—“then got the nerve to think you can talk all slick to me. Motherfucka, I’ve been good to you. You asked me to stop givin’ that fat bitch of yours a hard time, and I did. But now I’ma take it to her goddamn face for her not knowin’ how to keep a leash on your black ass.”
I spray him again. Then crack him upside the head with the empty can. Got his ass down on the ground crawlin’ and howlin’ like a wounded hyena for someone to come get me off of his ass. I don’t know why these niggahs gotta take me there. I swear, a bitch can’t go out and have a few drinks in peace without some motherfucka tryna serve it to me.
“And I’ma stomp ya ugly-ass sister’s face, too, the next time I see the bitch.” I run over and grab a stick layin’ in the yard and start beatin’ him across his back and head with it.
“Aaaah, shit! Someone come get this crazy bitch the fuck off of me! Yo, help! Aaaah, fuck! Shit!”
My front door swings open. Day’Asia, Joshua, Elijah, Isaiah, and one of the twins, Tyquan, come runnin’ out of the house with baseball bats and kitchen knives ready to set it off. When they see that I have the situation under control, they stand and watch me stomp on him. Well, everyone except Tyquan. When he realizes it’s his no-good daddy, he starts goin’ off.
“Mommy, stop fuckin’ my daddy up! Get off him! I know he ain’t do shit to you! All he was probably tryna do is come see me and Fuquan. You always gotta mess shit up!”
I stop hitting Vernon with the stick long enough to yell at him. “Boy, get your grown ass in the house, talkin’ shit to me, before I beat your ass next. Day’Asia, take his fresh ass back on in the house before I have to go to jail tonight.” She yanks him by the arm and drags him back into the house with him talkin’ shit all the way. I see Fuquan, looking out of the livin’ room window with his arms folded. He knows like I do that his daddy needs to be fucked up.
“Did that niggah put his hands on you?” Joshua, my fourteen-year old, wants to know, walkin’ up on me with a knife in his hand.
“No, his ass ain’t that crazy.” I throw the stick down, pick up my things, then walk toward the house, leavin’ him on the ground, coughin’ and gaggin’ and groanin’ in pain. Sorry-ass motherfucka!
Five-thirty in the mornin’, I’m up fightin’ with these bad-ass kids of mine to get up and get ready for school. “Day’Asia, wake up,” I say as I open her door and walk in. She groans.
“Aiight, Ma. In a minute.”
“No. Your minute’s up. Now.” I close her door, then make my next stop to Marquelle’s and Joshua’s room. I’m glad Marquelle’s at his fahver’s house. He’s one less person I have to yell at this mornin’.
“C’mon, Joshua, it’s time to get up,” I say, walkin’ into his room. I gasp as he quickly throws the covers up over himself. I’ve walked in on him jerkin’ off, again.
“Dang, Ma! Why can’t you knock first?”
“Boy, don’t talk shit. Bust your nut before six instead of playin’ with your damn dick every mornin’ and you wouldn’t have to worry about me knockin’.”
He sucks his teeth. “I’ma start lockin’ my door, for real.”
“You do and there won’t be no door. Now finish up doing whatever you were doing with that little thing in your hand, then get your ass up. And I want that bed made today, if not you’ll be sleepin’ your ass on the floor. And you better wash them nasty-ass hands!” I walk out, shuttin’ the door.
I make my way into the twins’ room. “C’mon, Tyquan and Fuquan,” I say, walkin’ over to their beds and gently shakin’ them, “get up, babies.”
“Noooo,” Tyquan says, pullin’ his Spiderman comforter up over his head. “I don’t want to.”
“Ty, c’mon now, be a good boy and get up for Mommy.”
Fuquan gets up without issue. I give him a hug and kiss, then tell him to take his shower. “That’s Mommy’s little man. You’re such a good boy.”
“I love you, Mommy,” he says, rubbin’ sleep from his eyes.
“I love you, too, Punkin. Make sure you wash your face and brush your teeth, okay?”
“Okay.”
I take a deep breath, knowing it’s gonna be one of those days. “Tyquan, c’mon,” I say, yankin’ the covers back. “Let’s go.”
