by Sa'id Salaam
“Ow,” Yolo moaned like a girl as her eyes fluttered open. The events of the day slowly came to mind and explained the pain between her legs. “Mmm, that was good baby. I love you but I still gotta kill you...”
Yolo finally took to her feet but a dizzy spell sat her back down. She couldn’t help but nod in approval at the dead guests around the room. Not knowing if Killa would come back, she knew she had to get out of there. It took all she had to make it to her room to dress. She pulled a few clothing items into a bag along with twenty something thousand dollars in cash she kept in her room. There was over a million dollars in the house but it would have to wait. Last but not least, she grabbed a gun.
Yolo climbed into her truck and inserted the key. A last second glance upward saved her life. Had she not seen Casper’s foot in the tree she would have turned the ignition and joined him. Luckily, for Yolo, she had used the same device many times and was able to disarm it.
“Oh my,” she whined as she pulled onto the expressway. The SUV swerved and crossed lanes as she fought to stay awake. Seeing a sign for a hospital at the next exit, she gave up and pulled off. With her last bit of energy, Yolo walked into the emergency room and passed out.
Yolo felt the oddest sense of Déjà vu when she awoke hours later. She reached up and felt the stitches in the bald spot shaved in her head. She frowned the frown of recognition at the elderly lady buzzing around the room. The nurse saw she was finally awake and told her off.
“Mm hm you frowning at me but you should be frowning at whatever man bust your head! You girls kill me letting these men beat you up. Shoot I wish I would let some man beat on me! My daddy ain’t even put his hands on me!”
“I never met my dad. My mom either,” Yolo admitted sadly. She somehow felt connected to the woman and spoke freely. “I had a foster mom but she tried to sell me so I killed her. Cut her up into little pie…”
“Girl you delirious,” Nurse Marquita said placing the back of her hand on her forehead despite the thermometers. “What’s you name girl?”
“Yolo. Yolo Jackson.”
The nurse snatched her hand away and stumbled backwards upon hearing the name she named a dead baby so many years ago in this same hospital. She shook her head ‘no’ but she could clearly see the face of the blue baby she pulled feet first into the world.
“What?” Yolo asked, fearful from her strange reaction.
“Girl you are not going to believe this but…” Marquita began and told her about her arrival in the world. She told her about her mom, her birth, and especially the nasty ass doctor who wanted to let her die.
“Where is that doctor now?” Yolo asked with murder in her voice.
“Child his old ass done retired. Somewhere down in Florida. Never mind him. Tell me about you. How was your life?” the nurse asked curiously.
“You are not going to believe this but…” Yolo began and laid out her life story up until that point. The nurse was dubious at first at the tall tales but she spoke with such detail and clarity she had no choice but to accept it.
“That needs to be a book! No, a movie!” Marquita cheered when she reached the end of her narrative. “Get dressed and hurry!”
“Where am I going? To jail?” Yolo asked feeling as close to fear as possible for her. For the first time in life, she was too weak to fight.
“No. I’m gonna do what I should have done 21 years ago. Take you home!”
Yolo recovered quickly and comfortably in Marquita’s small home. The two women developed a mother/daughter bond since both were deprived of that. She taught Yolo to cook real meat, not babies, and other domestic duties girls should know. Things were great for the first two months until disaster struck.
“Girl what’s wrong with you?” Marquita asked seeing Yolo turn as green as the bell peppers she was sautéing to go in the lasagna.
“I don’t know, I... " she replied then rushed over to the garbage can and threw up. “The smell made me nauseous.”
“You better not be!” the woman demanded.
“Better not be what?” Yolo asked naively. She may have been green but the nurse knew the symptoms all too well.
Marquita drove Yolo to the drug store fussing the whole way. She bought four different pregnancy tests and fussed the whole way home. Yolo peed on four different stick and got one same result.
"Please tell me it ain’t by the man who bust your head!” she demanded when she saw the four positive test.
“Actually he shot me in my head but yeah. That’s the only time I ever had sex.”
“Well you made your bed and you gon’ lie in it! We don’t do no abortions in this house! Your mom didn’t abort you did she? No she didn’t!” the childless woman yelled. She was set to retire herself and what better to keep her busy than a baby?
“I don’t want an abortion,” Yolo admitted to Marquita and herself. "He has other kids, two.”
“Well I hope he can take care of them because…” she said entering another tirade that Yolo missed. She was too busy making plans for her child to be Killa’s only child. A mischievous grin spread on her face as she plotted.
Killa kept the business phone supplied by the Black Mob more out of nostalgia than anything. He still had pictures of the Baron and Casper, well a piece of Casper that he got a kick out of. He kept it charged so he could view the pictures and get a good laugh. But when it rang…
“What wrong?” Sincerity asked seeing his startled reaction.
“Nothing,” he replied and regained his South Bronx cool. He frowned at Casper’s number and took the call. “Yeah?”
“Hey bae, it’s me Yolo. Or should I say baby momma? Anyway I was watching animal planet and I saw when a lion takes over the pride he kills the baby lions so the girl lions will go in heat and just have his babies so I said I’ll…”
“You’re dead! I killed you?” He recalled shooting her twice in her head. At near point blank range to boot.
“Nuh uh, my wig was bullet proof silly! Anyway I’m in Philly waiting on little Xavier to get out of school, by the way he is a cutie, so I can kill him. Next I have to kill little Rico so our child can be your only child,” Yolo rambled as only Yolo could.
“Listen carefully; I need you to meet me…”
“Oops gotta go. Talk to you later, bye-bye.”
“I gotta go to Philly!” Killa shouted as he tore off towards the door. He was already in his vehicle by the time Sincerity processed the statement.
Killa ignored all traffic signs and laws as he sped down 95 south. He had set a new second when he pulled into the city of brotherly love, driven by fatherly love. He pulled to a screeching halt in front of his son’s school and hopped out. He breathed a sigh of relief seeing his smiling son walk out. The little boy barely knew him but he planned to kidnap him to keep him safe.
“Hey little man,” Killa smiled down at his miniature self. The little boy looked up, smiled, and then died. Yolo shot him with a high-powered rifle from a rooftop several blocks away.
“One down, one to go,” she said proudly after his little head exploded.
Killa opened his mouth and roared with rage. The sky suddenly went dark and a strong wind swept through. A heavy rain began to fall marking the change of seasons. Yup, it was about to be Killa season all over again.
Epilogue
“Beat it little nigger bird,” a fussy old man cursed from his park bench. Ever since Doctor Mayes retired to Florida, he came to feed the birds in the park. Every day a black crow would swoop in and grab as much bread as he could and fly off. He was indeed a little nigger bird.
The doctor looked up and frowned at the young pregnant black woman waddling towards him. In his long career back in New York, he deliberately botched plenty of births. Some babies died, some had debilitating injuries. He gave a few unsuspecting women abortions and sterilized a few as well.
“Good morning doctor,” the young lady sang with a pleasant smile. She extended what looked like a Polynesian lei.
&nbs
p; “Oh ok,” Doctor Mayes grumbled and leaned forward so she could place the flowers over his head. He figured he went along she would leave him alone. Run off and give birth to a little nigga or nigglette and drink malt liquor. Twerk, talk loud, tell all its business online and whatever else niggers loved so much. Figured wrong because it was he who was leaving.
“Oh bye-bye,” Yolo sang, waving her free hand and hitting the switch with the other. The D.C. 2000 snapped closed and popped off his fat racist head. She collected her device and headed back to New York. She still had one more kid to kill.
