by Sa'id Salaam
“Well, you ate your balls, so I don’t see why you’re so upset. If anyone has the right to be upset, it’s the families of those ten girls that you killed! Yea, they’re upset!” Yolo fumed in a tone that no one has ever lived past.
“Is that what this is about? Some street girls who refer to themselves as bitches! Who can roll blunts better than they can read. Who…”
“Who still had a right to live? Who only acted upon what mainstream media told them to be! Now not only are you going to confess, you’re also going to apologize!”
“I’m sorry!” the cop blurted out ready for this ordeal to be over. It was almost over, and so was he along with it.
“Not me!” she shot back and tilted the table. Horror set in when he saw he was missing from the waist down. Yolo learned to make a tourniquet on YouTube and it wouldn’t hold much longer. She started the recorder and he started confessing.
Turns out ole Warren was responsible for way more bodies than Yolo thought. He’d been killing people since he was a teen. A local girl, the elderly neighbor, prostitutes, even a woman in Jamaica on his honeymoon.
He was steady confessing while she poured the gas. Why he thought telling all his sins would help was a mystery that he would take to his grave.
“What are you doing?” he asked when he smelled the gas. “I told you everything! I’ve apologized and repented!”
I know, and God is so merciful he might forgive you. That’s why I’m making hell here on earth,” she explained and tossed the match. “Okay, bye-bye.”
The roar of the fire was actually louder than the howl the cop let out. Yolo watched from the next room as the fire devoured the man. When the heat got too hot, she got out the kitchen and left the house to burn.
*****
‘In breaking news, a stunning confession from Detective Glen Warren that he was the Amityville Rapist. We received his taped confession last night. His badly burned body was found today. With us is Chief of Police Hatcher…
“Thank you,” the top cop said directly into the camera and walked off.
“You’re welcome,” Yolo replied proudly. He wasn’t the only one watching.
“Good job, girl!” Killa offered with a knowing laugh. Sincerity shot him a ‘what you talkin’ ‘bout Willis’ from his side. “I mean whoever. Good job!”
Chapter 9
“Look, honey. You like?” Marge asked hopefully when her husband came into the bedroom. She had purchased a sexy new nightgown to entice him back into her forty year old vagina. He hadn’t had much use for it, since he’d discovered a much younger one.
“Nice,” Harold replied without even looking at it. The black lace made a nice contrast against her pasty white skin.
“Even better when you peel it off. Grrr,” she growled pulling one of her big titties out of the garment. The pink nipple caught his attention, for a second. His new lust interest wasn’t much up top.
“Nice, Marge,” he repeated. The compliment covered the titty, the pot roast, and the potatoes she had cooked for dinner.
“Got another one just like it,” she laughed and pulled that one out too. “Stay with me tonight. I’ll do anything you want. Up the ass, anything!”
Harold paused at the thought of anal sex. Another thing his young girl wasn’t yet ready for. She made up for all short comings with her looks. Funny thing was that Marge once looked just like her. Now she looked like just one of those cans of biscuits that you pop open, with doughy white flesh seeping from the seams of her garment.
“Night, Marge,” he declined and walked out of their bedroom.
Harold knew his new relationship with the young girl was wrong on so many levels. That’s why he had to get good and liquored up before paying her a visit. He needed a good strong buzz to numb his conscience and keep his dick hard. Three double whiskeys and two Marlboros later, he was ready for his date.
Marge heard the creaking of the stairs as her husband ascended. She crossed her fingers and spread her thighs wide in hopes that he was coming back to bed. Her hopes were dashed when his footsteps stopped halfway down the hall. He took a deep breath and entered their teenaged daughter’s bedroom.
“Jenny, are you awake?” He whispered as if it mattered. As if had she been sleep he would’ve taken his sick ass back down the hall and put his dick in his wife where it belonged.
Jenny froze in place; consumed with fear, guilt, and shame. She blamed herself for the abuse as much as her mother did. Marge accused her of enticing him with her cheerleader skirts and tiny shorts. Marge went so far as to threaten her if she told anyone. Poor Jenny was getting fucked by both parents. One literally and the other one figuratively.
“Wake up, honey,” Harold slurred from the whiskey and lust. He pulled her girly blanket away and frowned down at the fully dressed girl. Not that it mattered, he had all the time in the world.
Harold peeled the jeans, sweat pants, and long johns off his daughter’s body. The fact that the kid had cartoon characters on her panties didn’t stop him from removing them as well. He felt his little erection grow as he removed his own clothing. He ignored the girl’s tears and climbed on top of her.
“This has to stop,” Marge muttered to herself when she heard the bed creaking in the next room. The child’s bed obviously wasn’t designed for fucking. “I hate that bitch!”
Marge was in a rage from hearing the sex that lasted longer than it did with her. She used that anger to fuel her internet search for a solution. It took some doing, but she eventually stumbled across a killa.
‘1-800-Killa, my daughter is screwing my husband. She enticed him with her tight little body and girly giggles. Harold is a good man and didn’t stand a chance. Now I’m afraid she’ll tell on him and he’ll go to jail. Please kill her. Kill my daughter!
*****
“Is this bitch serious? This must be a joke. I’m being ‘punked,’ ” Killa said as he read the intake report. When he saw that it came from Deer Park, New York he decided to pay the Dodd family a visit. He had to go to Long Island anyway, so he would make time to kick Marge’s ass while he was there. That would be the least that he’d do, if the claim was true Mr. and Mrs. Dodd would be Mr. and Mrs. Dead.
Killa bookmarked the claim and moved on to read some more. The site had really taken off and had visitors from all over the globe. Most were people venting about husbands, wives, loud neighbors, and Donald Trump. There were, however, quite a few legitimate claims of people who seriously needed to be murdered.
“I’m gonna need a helper,” Killa mused as he flagged more and more claims. The memory of all the fun he and Yolo had while they had crisscrossed the country killing people put a smile on his face. He shook his head tersely to wipe it off. “Nah.”
Sincerity would make a good helper herself. She was trained to go by both Karate Joe and the South Bronx. Not to mention, the sex was great. The thought of sex made Yolo pop back in his head once more. He had to see her soon and didn’t know how to feel about it. Just when he decided to go fuck his girl, to get Yolo out his head, another intake popped on the screen. It would have gotten ignored had the location not caught his attention.
“Deer Park,” he said pursing his lips. He read on getting angrier with every word.
‘1-800-Killa, please help me. My dad comes in my room and does stuff to me. It started a few months ago and it won’t stop. Now… Now… I um… I use to have my cycle, but this month it didn’t come. I’m only 14. I um… My mom blames me. She said if I tell, my dad will go to jail and she’ll have to get a job. I don’t want him to go to jail or her to get a job. I want them dead! Please kill them.’
“My pleasure,” Killa snarled. Her parents desperately deserved death and he was going to deliver it.
*****
“Aren’t they just the cutest little things!” Christi cheered at the twins in their birthday suits. Not the ones they were born in, but the ones Mama Yolo dressed them in for their first birthday.
“Yes they are! Him so handso
me, and her so pretty!” Yolo said proudly. The twins smiled back with their combined five teeth. “Too bad their father isn’t here to see them.”
“See, that’s why I don’t have no man,” Christi said like she was a woman.
“Girl, stop! That’s not why. You’re fifteen, that’s why,” Yolo laughed, putting her back in her place.
Sun and Shyne were growing like weeds, and into everything. They would escape their cribs at night to roam and play throughout the house. Yolo was amused at their little language. It consisted of the few English words they knew and the rest of their words were of their own design. Whatever it was, they seemed to understand it. She felt that most times they communicated through telepathy. The toddlers toddled out of the room, so Yolo turned back to finish chewing Christi out.
“No boyfriend, no baby daddy! If a man ain’t tryna marry you then don’t deal with him. Men are the protectors and maintainers of women! Accept less and you’ll get less. Way less!”
“Okay, okay,” the teen surrendered. Her own mother was proof of Yolo’s advice. The woman had men in and out of her like a police car. “I hope your baby daddy marry you one day.”
“He will! Our situation is complicated. We have a distraction,” she said meaning Sincerity. The way she figured it, she was in the way. “Let’s go!”
Yolo was rich but practical. Instead of splurging on a party that the kids were too young to appreciate she took them to Chuck E. Cheese’s. They played games and watched the giant rat prance and dance.
“Dada-Dada, Daddy,” the twins said excitedly looking behind and beyond their mother. Yolo whipped her head around to see what had them so excited, but saw nothing. In an instant, she was suddenly sad.
“What’s the matter?” Christi asked, full of concern at the change in her demeanor.
“Nothing. I gotta pee,” Yolo pouted and rushed off towards the bathroom. Once inside she entered a stall, broke down, and had a good cry. “I want my baby daddy!”
“Me too!” A strained reply came from the next stall where a pretty Latino girl came to lament her similar situation.
“I know that’s right!” A woman at the sink confessed. “I’m tired of playing tough. I need my kid’s father!
Yolo and her next stall neighbor both emerged teary eyed. They joined the woman at the sink along with two more that had come in. The BM’s and side chicks comforted each other until all eyes were dried.
“Group hug!” Yolo called and they all hugged. Faces were washed, heads held high, and the women all went on to continue raising their children alone. Salute!
“You ok?” Christi asked when Yolo returned to the booth. It was a good question but she had a better one.
“Where did that come from?” Yolo asked frowning curiously at the box wrapped with a pretty bow. It reminded her of a bomb she’d once sent to a grieving family at a funeral. She leaned into listen for a tick but none was present. Christi cracked up at what she thought was a joke.
“Some man. The twins sure acted like they knew him,’ she replied, cocking her dubiously as if Yolo were holding out on her.
“Really?” Yolo asked scanning the game room once more. Finally she lifted the box lid and peered inside. When she saw the content, she cracked up.
“What is it? What are they?” Christi asked of the odd looking toys. The two plastic hoops were pink and blue for the twin’s respective genders. A little latch on the side allowed the loop to snap harmlessly shut.
“His and her DC 2000s. Their daddy is a real clown!” Yolo wore a Joker smile for the rest of the day. After the party, they hit the mall. Yolo bought everything her children showed any interest in at the toy store. Once back at home, they ate cake and played games until it was time for bed.
Chapter 10
Poor Jenny Dodd prayed the whole day that night would not fall, but it fell anyway. The looks her parents gave her at the dinner table terrified her. Her father licked his lips lustfully, while her mom glared at her with disdain.
“What do you find so amusing?” Marge demanded when a satisfied smirk appeared on the corner of her daughter’s mouth. How dare she be happy while she was miserable. She was the only one in the house not getting any sex.
“Nothing, Mom,” she said since she wasn’t particularly happy. She did however find solace in the decision to kill herself. If her daddy came to screw her again, she planned to hang herself on the front lawn for all to see.
“Well, let’s all wind down and call it a night,” Daddy Dodd suggested. He retired into the den to drink until it was time to go call on his child.
After cleaning the kitchen, Marge went up to her bedroom. Tonight, she tried on a yellow crotch-less number hoping to entice her husband once more. The matching bra was cut out in the front showing her big pink nipples.
“Come to bed, Harold,” Marge purred and spread her legs to show that she had shaved her plump vagina. There was a time when he would have dived face first and tried to suck an ovary out. Now it only got a brief pause as he nodded at it, like one does an acquaintance on the street.
“Go on to sleep. I’m going to get a drink,” he said as he splashed on some old man cologne.
“Fuck me, Harold! Please, it’s been months! Please, fuck me!” she pleaded.
“Not tonight, Marge,” he chuckled and walked out of their room.
“Want something done…” Marge huffed and dug into her nightstand. She pulled out a huge dildo and dug in. “Do… it… your… damn… self!”
Meanwhile, Harold engaged in foreplay with glasses of whiskey and tobacco. Once he was good and liquored up, he stood and made his way up to his daughter’s room. But he wasn’t the only one creeping through the house.
Jenny froze when she heard her door ease open. She skipped the futile ritual of being overdressed for rape and instead slept in her pre-molestation bed wear of shorts and a t-shirt. Still, she braced herself for the disgusting feel of her father’s touch. When no touch came, she flashed back to when this awful phase of her life began. Her drunk father would stand over her staring and breathing heavy. Once he got good and hard, he would rush into the next room, and fuck the daylights out of his wife.
From there it turned into him touching, feeling, and kissing her. Finally he got into her bed. It escalated each and every visit. Last night he’d went down on her, tonight he expected her to return the favor. Jenny almost opened her eyes when no touch came, but then the door opened once more.
“Jenny, you awake?” Harold said trying to sound sexy. He dropped his robe revealing his erection. That’s exactly how he died.
‘Pst’ Killa’s silenced pistol whispered. The slug entered his ear like a secret. A secret he would take to his grave. The liquor caused him to stand for a second, but the laws of gravity are written in stone, so he fell face first onto his daughter’s bed.
“Are you from 1-800-Killa?” Jenny asked. It was a reasonable guess since Santa doesn’t carry a nine and shoot perverts dads in their heads. He probably should though.
“I am,” he replied and stepped forward. It was too dark in the room to make out his features, but she saw the small pill in his extended palm. “For your other problem.”
Jenny plucked the abortion pill from his hand and tossed it into her mouth. She swallowed it without water and then took a sip from the glass on her nightstand.
“Thank you. Have you seen my mom too?” she asked hopefully.
“She’s next. Who was here?” Killa asked in a low tone.
“A black guy who…” Jenny started and then stopped when Killa shook his head no. “Two white guys with tattoos. They demanded money and…”
“Very good,” he nodded in agreement with her official story. The officials would have no choice but to accept it from the only survivor. They said their goodbyes with a nod and then Killa crept down the hall to finish what he came for.
Marge perked up when she heard the door ease open. She hadn’t heard the bed creaking so maybe she would get laid. She snatched the dildo fr
om her guts and tossed it aside. The large plastic dick landed with a thud.
“Who are you?” Marge asked sounding more curious than afraid. “1-800-Killa?”
“That’s me,” Killa said with a bow.
“You killed my husband?” she asked when she saw the gun in his hand.
“I did. Time for you to join him,” he replied and raised the gun.
“Okay, but fuck me first! I want something black, long, and hard inside of me before I go!”
“Huh?” Killa asked scratching his head with the long silencer attached to the gun.
To make matters even more confusing, Marge grabbed the back of her knees and pulled her legs open. The curious Killa leaned in to have a look at the forty year old vagina.
“Put it in! Ram it in!” Marge demanded tossing her hips upward.
“Okay,” Killa shrugged and rammed the long silencer into her. Her vagina was so wet and loose from the dildo that Killa almost lost his gun. That would have been extremely unprofessional and embarrassing.
“Aa…” Marge let out the beginning of a scream but a tug on the pistol sent a silent bullet that silenced the slut.
“My work here is done.” Killa nodded in satisfaction. He crept out of the house as quietly as he had crept in and set off on his next mission.
*****
“Sun and Shyne,” Yolo sighed shaking her head when she heard the pitter patter of their little feet. The twins had a knack for escaping their cribs at night, so they could run around the house. She intended to install a camera in their room so she could see just how they got out.
She couldn’t help but smile at the sound of their strange language and delighted laughs. That is until she heard the low rumble of a man’s voice and popped straight up in her bed. Anger doesn’t come close to describing the emotion she felt at the intrusion. She reached under her pillow and pulled out the huge revolver that lived there.
Yolo then crept down the hall until she reached the nursery. An ear to the door confirmed that there was indeed a man inside. She burst through the door and did a roll like the ones done in a cop show. Luckily for all she stopped short of firing.
