Shame on It All

by Zane

  “Fatima!” Harmony yelled into the phone. “Is Javon’s gun collection still at the main house?”

  “Oh, shit!” Bryce exclaimed. Harmony went out on the deck to finish her conversation and fill Fatima in. She’s damn serious, Bryce thought to herself, then headed upstairs to get Lucky.

  18

  The Avengers

  “I’m coming! Hold your horses!” Fatima swung open the heavy wooden door of her eight-bedroom mansion and couldn’t believe her eyes. “Damnnnnnn! You sistahs look like a cross between The Witches of Eastwick and The Women of Brewster Place!”

  “Hmph! You’ve got some nerve,” Bryce hissed, barging past Fatima into the foyer. “Your hair looks like you lost a fight with the freakin’ lawn mower.”

  “Speaking of hair,” Fatima came back at her. “Thank goodness you finally got rid of that fucked-up hair weave you were sporting all of those years.”

  “Sheit! Your hair is tooooooo through! You need to go down to Weave Central and get Conchita to hook your ass up,” Bryce snapped.

  “Excuse um moi, idiots,” Harmony interrupted. “I realize the two of you are as happy as a teenage boy in a whorehouse to see each other, but can you shut the hell up!”

  They gave each other the Harmony-is-about-to-pimp-slap-us look and complied.

  “We’re here for one reason. To fuck ole boy up.”

  “Damn right.” Colette nodded, starting to look around Fatima’s house and walking into the living room with its twenty-foot cathedral ceiling. “Good gracious! I thought Harmony had a big-ass house!”

  “Lucky, are you all right, Baby?” Fatima hugged Lucky and led her into the living room. “You know you’re my heart and soul, gurl.”

  “I know Fatima. Thanks.” Lucky kissed her on the cheek and followed everyone else into the living room.

  “I say we kick his ass from here to Somalia and back,” Colette suggested.

  “No, that’s much too peaceful,” Harmony said. “I have something ten times better in mind. Dean Marvin Mitchell is about to meet his worst nightmare and he’ll never do this shit to a sistah again.”

  They all stared at each other, hoping Harmony wouldn’t take shit to the extreme. Lucky was severely concerned. While she wanted Marvin to get his more than anyone, she sensed Harmony was about to go off the deep end.

  “Fatima, did you manage to get everything I asked for?” Harmony inquired.

  “Yes, I got the blueprints.” Fatima paused before adding, “And the guns.”

  “Good. Let’s go into the drawing room so none of your staff will overhear us scheming.”

  “No need.” Fatima placed her hands on her hips. “I told them all to take the evening off.”

  “And Javon?”

  “Fuck a Javon! He’s staying at the Hyatt and refuses to get a place or move his things. That fool still thinks there’s a chance for us after his dirt.”

  Bryce thought to herself, Fuck a Javon, huh? Harmony already did that.

  “Well, Fatima, it’s your fault,” Harmony stated.

  “How do you figure?” Fatima was obviously offended by the remark.

  “I tried to tell you about that voodoo shit.”

  “What voodoo shit, Harmony?” Lucky’s interest was piqued in spite of the ugly situation.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Harmony said. “We have a schedule to keep.”

  “Aw, come off it. You can’t mention voodoo and then leave us hanging,” Bryce insisted. “What does voodoo have to do with Javon’s little-dick ass not wanting a divorce?”

  Fatima looked at Harmony with astonishment. Harmony shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe I mentioned the fact that he had a little dick. My bad!”

  Colette grew impatient. “I wanna know about this voodoo madness,” she said as she lay across the expensive chaise lounge, a piece of furniture she had only seen before in old Bette Davis movies.

  “Okay, damn,” Harmony hissed, wishing she had never brought the topic up, but realizing trying to change the subject was a lost cause. “Our freshman year at Howard, there was this gurl from New Orleans who lived in the same dorm. Fatima and Javon were dating heavy, but Fatima wanted the ring, so the gurl, I don’t recall her name, convinced Fatima that there was only one way to ensure Javon would love her and only her forever.”

  “Which was?” Bryce asked, sitting on the edge of her seat and hoping the shit wasn’t too outrageous so she could do some voodoo on Troy’s ass.

  “Well, Fatima invited Javon over to our dorm for dinner one night. Zachary and I went to the movies so they could be alone.” Harmony glanced at Fatima. Fatima’s eyes were rolling around in her head like Linda Blair’s in The Exorcist. “We had a hot plate in the room and Fatima made Javon some spaghetti with one special added ingredient.”

  Harmony paused for a long moment and the suspense was killing them.

  “You coming up off the special damn ingredient sometime tonight or not?” Bryce smacked her lips. “Sheesh! Harmony always takes ten freakin’ years to tell a story!”

  “She put some of her menstrual cycle in it,” Harmony blurted out, then started chuckling.

  “Fuck ya!” Fatima yelled, giving her the finger but giggling just the same.

  The rest of them shouted “Eww!” and “Ugh!” in unison.

  “Dammmmn, Fatima, you’s a nasty ass,” Bryce proclaimed. “I’ll be the first one to admit, I’ve done some trifling shit in the pursuit of hellified dick action, but that takes the mofo cake!”

  “That’s so damn foul,” Colette added. Even she had her limits, but then again, there was the time one nucca had slipped and went down on her before she knew Aunt Flo was visiting.

  Lucky laughed hysterically, finding something worth smiling about for the first time since Robbie had gone ballistic on her ass.

  Harmony was ecstatic to see Lucky laughing, but time was of the essence. She wasn’t about to let some sick-ass pervent take advantage of her baby sister and get away with it.

  Within minutes, they were all seated around the cherry-wood table in the formal dining room. The blueprints to one of the warehouses Javon owned down on the waterfront were sprawled across the table.

  “Okay, that about does it, ladies,” Harmony said. “Everyone knows what they’re supposed to do, right?”

  “Yeah,” Colette said, “but how in the hell do you expect us to find all this shit on the list within the next three hours?”

  “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

  “Whatever,” Bryce hissed, still hoping Harmony would give up on the elaborate scheme and just beat the nucca’s ass.

  Fatima asked, “How are you going to make sure his dick stays hard long enough for us to do all of this crap?”

  Bryce glanced over the table at Colette. “Did you make that stop I asked you to?”

  “Yeah.” Colette pulled a grape jelly jar out the left pocket of her lightweight jacket. “Here it is.”

  “You sure this shit works?” Bryce took it out Colette’s hands. “Looks like plain old Cherry Ade to me.”

  “Shit! That stuff works and then some,” Colette proclaimed. “When I went by there, Ripuoff answered the door with a dick that looked like it could split bricks. He had mad hoochies up in there waiting to get fucked every which way!”

  “Word?” Bryce grinned with delight. “Aiight, I was just making sure because—”

  “What in the world is that?” Fatima interrupted.

  “Niagra,” Harmony answered before anyone else. “You’ll see what it does tonight. I heard some pimps talking about it when I was in the liquor store playing Powerball. They swear it’s the bomb. They can drink as much Mad Dog 20/20 as they can handle and still fuck the living daylights out every hoe in their stable in one night.”

  Fatima made no further comment, but picked up the jar to get a closer look at the contents. Looks like Cherry Ade, she thought.

  “Time to roll up on out of here,” Harmony announced. “Fatima, Lucky, and I will take the items w
e already have and head over to set up the warehouse. We’ll stop by the costume shop on the way.”

  “Aiight, Sis.” Bryce decided consenting to getting jiggy with it was the best plan.

  “Bryce, you and Colette take care of the entertainment for tonight’s festivities. See if you can get ahold of some chloroform while you’re at it.”

  Bryce had to contain the urge to slap Harmony upside the head. “Now I know you’ve lost your damn mind. It’s bad enough you’ve got Colette and I cruising street corners, but chloroform too?”

  “Okay, forget the chloroform. We’ll just coldcock his ass.”

  They all gave each other high fives, except for Lucky, who had an unsettled look on her face.

  “Well, I guess that does it,” Harmony stated. “Except for synchronizing our watches.”

  “Whew, we really into some Mission: Impossible–type shit here,” Colette said excitedly, and started humming the theme song for the TV series while she did the Butterfly in her chair.

  Bryce took her fingernails and dug them into Colette’s arm. “Quit, doofus!”

  Harmony, Fatima, and Lucky got up and headed to the garage. “See you when you get there.”

  Once they were out of earshot, Colette reached in her other jacket pocket to retrieve the second jar of Niagra. “You’re not really going to give Troy this concoction on the sly, are you?”

  “Wanna bet?” Bryce replied, putting it in her purse for safekeeping. They both fell out laughing on their way out the front door to start searching street corners.

  19

  Black Biker Bitches from Mars

  Marvin Mitchell had just poured an E & J brandy with Coke when the phone rang. He cleared his throat before he answered, figuring it was one of his sweet young thangs calling to beg for some dick. So what if he applied a little pressure to get the nana? Such is life! It was all a means to an end, and bottom line, he had more pussy at his beck and call than brothas half his age.

  “Hello,” he said in his deepest, sexiest voice.

  “Helllllllllllllloooooo,” a female voice squealed in the phone. “Is this Mr. Mitchell in Apartment 10-D?”

  “Yes,” he replied with disappointment in his voice, realizing it wasn’t a booty call after all. “Who is this?”

  “This is Penelope Wyatt Lawrence Bainbridge, your neighbor in 8-H. I’ve run into you a few times in the elevator. Do you recall?”

  “Yes, sure, I remember you now.” Marvin lied, trying to hold in his laugh because the woman sounded as if something were crammed up her nostrils. “What can I do for you, Miss Bramidge?”

  “That’s Bainbridge!”

  “Sorry, Miss Bainbridge.” Marvin was getting impatient and didn’t want to be bothered with any phone calls that didn’t pertain to pussy.

  “The reason I’m callllllllllllllling Mr. Mitchell is because when I pulled into the underground garage this e-ve-ning, it looked like someone had tampered with your car.”

  “Really?” Marvin jumped up off the couch, looking for his keys.

  “Yes, some sort of auto vandalism. Pity that vandals would hit a neighborhood such as ours.”

  “Yes, yes, it is. Thanks for calling and letting me know,” Marvin said with gratitude. “I’m going to go check it out right now!”

  He hung up the phone before either party could say goodbye, grabbed his keys, and headed to the elevator.

  Fatima clicked the power off on her cell phone. She couldn’t hold in the laughter any longer. Harmony was sitting beside her in the driver’s seat of Javon’s Expedition, glued to a pair of binoculars.

  Less than three minutes later, Marvin came flying off the elevator worried sick that someone had fucked with his prize possession. When he got to his assigned parking space, a whimper was all he could get out once he saw the words Rapist, Pervert, and Bastard spray-painted all over the hood and doors of his car.

  He walked around to see if anything was on the trunk of the car, which is what they were all counting on. He was too busy trying to make out the word on the trunk, which was intentionally misspelled and nothing more than gibberish, when Bryce hopped up from behind the Jeep Cherokee parked beside it and coldcocked his ass with a tire iron.

  Colette grabbed the keys out his comatose hand and unlocked the trunk. They struggled to lift him in. When they dropped him in, the plush velvety trunk emitted a foul odor.

  “Di-zammmmmmmmm!” Colette held her nose. “What the hell is that smell?”

  “He farted.” Bryce giggled. “Punk ass!”

  They slammed the trunk and jumped in the front seat. Bryce had trouble starting the engine with the surgical gloves she was wearing. They were both wearing them to guard against fingerprints. She finally got it started and they pulled out the garage, taking the dark, back streets Harmony had mapped out, with the rest of the crew following close behind in the Expedition.

  “Damn, Bryce, why’d you have to hit him so hard?” Colette asked. “Now we can’t even wake his ass up.”

  “No names!” Harmony kicked Colette in the shin.

  “Aiight, damn!” Colette bent down to rub her leg. “He didn’t hear me, anyway. He’s ass out.”

  Harmony glanced at Lucky, who was dressed in a yellow duck costume, then pointed to a far corner of the warehouse. “You go over there and keep the camcorder rolling. Make sure you don’t say a word, Sis. He’ll recognize your voice.”

  Lucky nodded and made her way over to the corner slowly, having some trouble walking in the webbed feet.

  Harmony handed Fatima the instant camera. “Make sure you get some good shots from different angles.”

  “I’m on it,” Fatima said through the mask of her panda bear costume. “This shit is fun!”

  Harmony looked at Bryce, who had on a fluffy dog costume, and Colette, who had on a Chiquita banana costume with a gorilla mask covering her head. They were still trying to get Marvin’s ass to wake up.

  “Move out the way,” Harmony instructed. “I’ll wake his ass up!”

  They moved and Colette went to take her place for the next part while Bryce stayed there. With a swift kick to the groin, Harmony did as she promised and woke his ass up.

  Marvin opened his eyes, in horrible pain, and was petrified to find a dog and a green frog standing over him holding guns with laser beams pointed at his temple.

  “Okay, Dean Mitchell,” the frog said while he squirmed around holding his dick. “We’re about to play a little game.”

  “Who the fuck are you sick people?” he asked through blurry eyes, never imagining any shit so bizarre would ever happen to him.

  Bryce quickly replied, “We’re the Black Biker Bitches from Mars!”

  The two costumed figures standing over him started laughing. He also heard other laughs coming from somewhere in the darkness of the place they had taken him.

  “Where am I?”

  “Hell,” the frog replied. “So, you like to take advantage of young coeds, huh?”

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, you afflicted bitch!” He knew what she was talking about, but dreaded that his actions had finally caught up to him. He didn’t recognize any of their voices, which meant it could be anyone.

  The frog kicked him in the balls, causing excruciating pain. “Sit his ass up in the chair,” the frog instructed.

  The dog grabbed him by the arm, then a panda bear stepped into the light with a camera and helped the dog lift him up onto a steel chair.

  “Your reign of terror is up, Dean Mitchell,” the frog continued. “Time to pay for all your sins.”

  “I didn’t do jack shit to anybody!” he yelled, professing his innocence, which only fell on deaf ears.

  “Drink this!” the frog ordered, pulling some sort of liquid in a jar from behind her back.

  “What the hell is that?” He panicked. Looks like Cherry Ade, he thought to himself. “Whatever it is, I’m not drinking it! No way!”

  He heard the guns click and decided protesting was out of the qu
estion.

  “Drink it or I’ll blow your fucking brains out,” the frog demanded.

  He took the jar and drank it reluctantly. It is Cherry Ade!

  Twenty seconds later, he realized something was awfully wrong. His dick sprouted up and felt ten pounds heavier than normal. “What the hell did you do to me?”

  “He’s ready!” the frog yelled out, looking over her shoulder. “Take off all your clothes!”

  “Hell no, I’m not taking off my damn clothes!” The frog put the gun on the head of his dick.

  “Take off your fucking clothes. Now!”

  Marvin Mitchell was a fallen man. His pride was gone and his only hope was that they wouldn’t kill him. He complied and took off his clothes.

  “I’m going to be nice and give you a choice,” the frog said after sharing a laugh with her costumed friends at the hardness of his dick, which looked like it could lay concrete.

  She pointed to three doors in the back of the warehouse. “You can have the punishment behind door number one, door number two, or door number three. You have ten seconds to make up your mind.”

  “You sick bitch! Fuck you! I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’ll track all of you down and kick your fucking asses!”

  “Wrong answer,” the frog hissed. “I was trying to be nice but now you’re going to get all three!”

  With that, all three doors swung open and Marvin Mitchell lost his bladder control. Behind door one was a person dressed in a Chiquita banana costume and gorilla mask wearing a strap-on dick. Behind door number two was a four-hundred-pound transvestite dressed in woman’s lingerie, and behind door number three was a fuckin’ goat.

  Marvin Mitchell started to scream but the laughter of his abductors drowned him out. It didn’t matter anyway because Marvin Mitchell was on a deserted waterfront with no one around for miles. He was simply ass out!

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