Killa Season

by Sa'id Salaam

  "7, 9, 5, 3." She recited giving him the code to open the gate. The fact that she still hadn't even asked his name yet, popped in his head again.

  The same code in reverse caused the large front door to the stately home to open on its own. Killa fought the urge to say, 'wow!' when they stepped into the grand master foyer. He didn't have time to admire the place because the woman marched up the circular steps. He fell in line behind her, watching her ass jiggle under the short dress.

  A set of double doors opened to a bedroom suite larger than the entire apartment Killa grew up in. The woman let the dress fall as Killa pulled out his phone and dialed. She was naked before it even rang once. The sight of her firm body made him want to hang up and call back later.

  “Who on earth could you possibly be calling at a time like this?" She demanded with a frown.

  "Your husband." He said and put the call on speaker.

  "Hey slut, looks like you got yourself in a bit of trouble this time." Her husband laughed in the phone.

  "What's the meaning of this Harold? What's going on here? Who are you?" She fussed at both men.

  "He's a hired killer you stupid bitch! Looks like you bought the wrong nigger home this time!" The man laughed.

  Killa frowned at both his nigger comment and her asking who he was with his cum in her belly. Names are to be exchanged before body fluids. He would have let the slander pass if Harold would have shut the fuck up but he wouldn't, so Killa decided to kill him too. That was before the invitation.

  "Yeah Sheryl, you bringing all kinds of niggers and spics into our home. Fucking and sucking them in our bed! My bed; you ungrateful piece of trailer trash. I save you and what have you given me in return except disgrace and dishonor."

  "Fuck you Harold! You have some nerve! You don't think I know about what you're up to! Your numerous affairs with secretaries! Actresses! Whores! I know, I know!" She shouted at the phone.

  “They were white Sheryl. You fucked niggers. Black, nappy headed, thick lipped, disco dancing, pop locking, corn row wearing, fried chicken eating, loud talking, high fiving, all on Facebook telling all their business niggers! Now a nigger is going to kill you. Good bye Sheryl." Harold ranted and hung up.

  Sheryl was fuming. "How much to spare me and kill him instead!" She demanded.

  “There's no sparing you." Killa admitted plainly. He couldn't do it even if he wanted. Not with the black mob's threats against his family. He didn't want to anyway because he despised adulterers. Sure he fucked around on Kitty but she wasn't his wife. A covenant with God must be kept.

  "Well kill him too then. I'll give you a hundred grand right now. Lord knows I have no use for it." She pleaded.

  Killa agreed and she handed over the cash. She accepted her fate and submitted by turning around and kneeling in front of him. They say when in Rome do as the Romans, so since they were in LA, he put her in an official L.A.P.D. choke hold. Sheryl went limp after her air was cut off but Killa squeezed for a full minute. He let her body fall on its side and checked her pulse. She was no longer with us.

  ****

  A trip to L.A would not be complete without some good California chronic and pussy. California has some of the best vagina on the planet. The combination of sun and sea air gives it a taste and texture like nowhere else. Its second only to New York followed closely by Atlanta, Dallas and Detroit too and let’s not forget about Johnstown, PA. But let's not lose focus.

  The killer felt more like a rock star cruising through Los Angeles in the roof-less coupe. A long line of scantily clad women caught his attention so he glided over to investigate. Every woman on the line to get in the club was at least a high seven or eight which meant the place was full of dime pieces. In other words, it was the place to be. He could have plucked one or two even from the line, hell, he wouldn't have had to come to a complete stop but he decided to grab a drink and chill.

  "I shouldn't be long." Killa told the valet, slipping him a C-note along with the keys. His intention was to bag the baddest chic in the club and take her back to his room and gut her. He checked out the best Cali had to offer as he ordered a drink.

  "I do believe that is her!" He told himself when he spotted a nice caramel colored beauty on the dance floor. He tossed his drink back and went to investigate.

  As he drew near, he saw she had a head full of hair that fell to the middle of her back that swayed with her as she swayed to the music. She had a coke bottle shape like nothing he'd seen before, a perfect hour glass plump mounds of breast squeezed from the top of the dress and her ass was so round: It was unreal. Her long eyelashes batted over her green eyes.

  "Excuse us." Killa said politely as he rudely stepped between her and the guy she was dancing with. He lowered his head and slinked away while she fixed her mouth to protest. A quick glance over the assertive man killed any complaints.

  Gangstas don't dance but they do boogie so Killa did the same two-step he'd been doing since he was two. Meanwhile, she was doing the new fat-fat dance like a pro. She turned around and pressed her fat ass against his crotch and got an immediate reaction.

  “Dayum!" She exclaimed, reaching behind her and grabbing his erection.

  "He likes you." Killa smiled. "Let's go somewhere so yall can be formally introduced."

  "Let's." She said taking the lead off the dance floor. "My name is Daphine by the way."

  "Uh, ke, ki, Killa." Killa said, failing to come up with a good club name. Her real name was Earline but Daphine sounds better in the club.

  Dirty talk, gropes and feels on the ride to the hotel had him hard and her wet when they arrived. He parked the borrowed Bentley and rushed her up to the room. Since it was already established that they were there to fuck, Killa stripped as soon as they walked in. Seconds later there was nothing but a smirk.

  "Excuse me. Let me use your restroom so I can take off all this stuff, so we can really get to it." Daphine giggled.

  "Um....ok?" He replied, wondering why she couldn't strip right there. Watching a woman undress is technically foreplay after all. He shrugged it off and lit a blunt, that's foreplay too. Killa sat back on the bed smoking until a strange woman appeared from the bathroom.

  "What the fuck! Who are you?" Killa shouted as he scrambled for his pistol. He couldn't believe he got caught slipping but wasn't going out without a fight.

  “You so silly. It's me Daphine." The woman insisted.

  Now Killa was really confused and it showed on his face. The voice was the same but nothing else. Instead of the long flowing hair, this chic had none. She was several inches shorter and twenty pounds heavier. The coke bottle shape was now that of a milk jug and the plump breasts were replaced by the lopsided titties facing straight down. Her nice round ass must have run off with the long lashes and green eye. This was Earline.

  Killa frowned and rushed gun high into the bathroom. That's where he found Daphine. The sexy dress stood up stiffly on its own still holding its hour glass shape. The long hair looked like a ferret lying on the counter next to the eyes and lashes. He could only laugh at himself. He left the club with Beyonce and ended up with sideshow Bob.

  Killa went back into the room and fucked sideshow Bob; twice.

  ****

  Harold pulled into his gated estate that next morning with a Cheshire grin pasted on his face. He had produced a ton of blockbuster movies but today he was about to try his chops at acting. He was about to discover his murdered wife and perform the 911 operator, then news and talk shows. It would be great publicity for his new movie in theaters near you. He made a mental note to give his wife's Bentley to his new secretary as he walked past in the circular driveway. The girl had been playing hard to get but the V-12 should part those thighs.

  "My wife! Oh my G.... wait…..ok, Oh my God, my wife!" He practiced as he climbed the stairs up to the master bedroom. It cracked him up practicing his own script. Yeah it was real funny, big laughs until he walked in and saw Killa standing there.

  "Who the fuck are you?
"

  "Me baws? Ise just a no count nappy headed nigga." Killa said in his best black Sambo voice and then broke into a little tap dance for master. "What's the matter baws? We sick?"

  "You're the killer?" Harold asked, looking over at his dead wife.

  "Nope, you are." Killa replied producing his gun. Come to find out you were so distraught about killing your wife, you decided to check out."

  "I…. what?" The movie producer snapped. Instead of explaining Killa demonstrated. He walked over and forced the gun into the man's hand. He put up a good fight as he made it up to his temple. Killa pulled the trigger and let him and the gun fall to the thick carpet: The perfect murder/suicide.

  “You guys really do make a nice couple." He chuckled over his shoulder to the corpses as he left.

  Jihad had a guy who could make Killa's borrowed Bentley disappear. He drove his friend to the airport, filling him in on his new way of life. The lifelong friend's exchanged pounds and hugs that served as good byes until they saw each other again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The extra hundred grand Killa earned from the side job would help him in his exit plan. Fuck the Black Mob, he wasn't going to keep doing their dirty work. Sure it was fun but fuck them.

  Knowing his escape would jeopardize his family, he would have to move them somewhere safe. He used some of his fortune on emergency exits. He thought about pulling Charlie Sheen and moving both Kitty and Sincerity in with him.

  “Nah, them chics would kill each other....or me!" He laughed out loud. He was right too; two alpha females could not co-exist under the same roof. Make that three because grandma was a handful too.

  The only real option was murder. The Black Mob had to go. He would have to kill all of them so he could live. He of course had no problem with that. He would just have to be patient and play his position until he could strike. He was cool with that until they pushed the issue.

  "Woosa" Killa said, exhaling when his business line rang. It always took a lot out of him to listen to that voice that rung his phone. Assuming it was details of his next job, he quickly opened it to view. What he saw took his breath away. There was Sincerity and his newborn son. She was smiling and waving to the camera like there was no danger but how, why would the Black Mob have it!

  "He is so adorable. I bet he looks just like his father." The nurse from the hospital cooed as she came into the shot.

  “They are twins! Sincerity gushed lovingly. The video was shot in her apartment which shook Killa to his very core. It stopped abruptly and the phone rang.

  "Hey buddy!" The voice sang in its sarcastic yet sinister tone that Killa despised. "Cute kid."

  "Listen to me very, very carefully. I have no idea what you're up to but you just went too far. My child yo? I'm going to kill you. Not just you but everybody you know. Everybody you've every met. I'm goi......"

  "Blah, blah, blah. You are so dramatic! Ok, so I sent Yolo to look in on your family. Big deal, you killed an associate of ours!" Why?" The voice demanded.

  "What the fuck are you talking about?" Killa shot back, confused. "I kill who you paid me to kill."

  “Uh, Harold; the movie producer. Don't think I bought that suicide shit one bit! You did that shit. He had too much shit on the table to check out. Besides he hated that nigger loving bitch of a wife. Had we not benefited from his death that video you just saw would have been a cooking show. You would have watched Yolo dice that bastard baby up and sauté it with onions and scallions. Now stop fucking playing with me! Kill a fly or step on an ant without my permission and I'll kill your whole family. And guess what? You'll still work for me!"

  "I'm sorry." Killa said sheepishly. The show of contrition was a good look and it worked. He needed the watching eyes to blink long enough for him to move his people to higher ground. A flood was coming and it was about to get bloody.

  "Well, that's better." The voice said so calmly, you could hear the smile over the line. "Get some rest because we have a lot of work coming your way."

  “That's what's up." Killa agreed and clicked off. At the same time he was reaching for his satellite phone.

  "Hey baby, I was...."

  "Move now!" Killa demanded, cutting his grandmother off in mid-sentence.

  The phone went dead immediately as Deidra put the well-planned, well-rehearsed plan in motion. A bag was already packed and waiting by the door. She grabbed it on the way out as she called Sincerity. As soon as she got the call, Sincerity grabbed her packed bag and fled the apartment. The women met in the parking lot where their get away vehicle was parked. Cars were changed in Manhattan, then again in Jersey as they headed to the hideout.

  Several hours later, Killa received the call that his family was safe. Kitty too was ducked off at their secluded home which gave him some breathing room. Good thing too, cuz he had some un-authorized killing to do.

  ****

  The Man Boy Love Association was having a jamboree in Denver, Colorado. Men from all walks of life from all over the country were in attendance. There were judges and doctors, priest and pastors, police and firemen, teachers and bus drivers and of course little league coaches. Oh, and one killer or Killa to be precise, one murderously dangerous man on a mission.

  The club rented a mountain lodge to accommodate the large turn-out of over one hundred pedophiles. Vacations were taken and excuses made to leave wives and families behind. This was a grand affair; a who's who of booty bandits.

  Day one was the scheduled meet and greet, where the sick men could catch up and new members introduced. A grand catered dinner of surf and turf followed by movie night. On display would be the latest in child porn. Day two, there would be an auction where young boys, new and used would be bought, sold and traded. Killa planned to cancel day two.

  "Looks heavy, need a hand?" a thirty something rather normal looking black man asked as Killa lifted his suitcase out of the trunk of his rental car.

  "Um, sure." Killa replied, amused by the irony. Dude was going to carry in the explosives that were going to level the lodge, killing him and everyone else inside.

  Killa looked oddly at the clean-cut man. He looked so normal, even wore a wedding band. Of the hundred or so men, less than five percent were black men. Not that black men don't molest kids, they just don't join clubs about it. He wondered if dude wasn't in the wrong place, maybe he got his dates mixed up. Then he spoke.

  "Man, I've been waiting on this for months! I was so excited last night; I was hard as a rock! My wife thought it was for her and climbed on top of it. Oh, I hated being inside of her." He groaned, like he wanted to spit. "I swear, I get more turned on by my sons than her."

  "Do you have insurance? Will they be taken care of if you get blown up or say, shot in your head?" Killa asked, entertaining the thought of whipping his pistol out and murdering him on the spot.

  "Do I! That's what I do, sell insurance!" He beamed proudly. The whole way up to Killa's room, he went on and on about different plans, as if he wanted to sell him a policy. Killa really wanted to kill him then.

  Once they made it up to the room, Killa thanked and dismissed the man. He smiled knowing his family would soon be both rid of him and well taken care of.

  The meet and greet was in full effect when Killa slipped out and up to his room. He made several trips back and forth as he rigged the theater with explosives. Soon the large room was laced with two hundred pounds of high explosives. He intended to stay away long enough to miss his own introduction, since non-members were expected to take the podium. No such luck, his name was called the second he returned. Not wanting to blow his cover before he could blow them up, he took the stage.

  "Um...Hello." He said tentatively into the mic, causing the room to explode into cheers. "My name is Xavier and I um...I'm a man who loves boys." Killa got out almost choking on the mantra. Again the room exploded in cheers and claps. These dudes really liked boys. Killa went on stammering and stuttering bits and pieces of what he gleamed from previous speeches, until he g
ot down.

  Child molesters or no child molesters, the man boy love dudes knew how to put on a dinner. The thick steaks melted like butter and the huge lobster tails were cooked to perfection. The salad was garden fresh crisp and the best wines to wash it all down. Likewise, the dessert menu offered more delightful dishes.

  “And now for tonight's entertainment!" The host, a Midwest middle age college professor announced.

  Killa wanted to make his escape during the movement but got caught up in the stampede. Good thing the explosives weren't on a timer because he was momentarily trapped. The bombs were set off by a cell phone that was safely in his rental. He ended up in the middle of the theater surrounded by pedophiles. This is where things went from bad to worse.

  It was bad when the huge screen filled with the most disgusting images he had ever seen. Mind you this is the same man who blew up a packed funeral home; the same man who hacked men and women into bite size pieces with a hot machete. But that shit on that screen!

  It got worse when he turned his head to escape the view only to see the men feverishly pulling on their penises. If he had the detonator, he might have set it off then and put himself out of this misery.

  "Excuse me. Pardon me." Killa said, making his way through the masturbating men. He rushed from the theater and towards his rental car.

  "Hold up." The insurance salesman called out, rushing to catch up.

  "Shit!" Killa fumed at the interruption. "Come on, get in." The men jumped into the car and Killa drove a safe distance away and parked. He got out with the cell phone and so did his guest. He dialed the number, pressed send and smiled at the results.

  “Oh my God! What just happened?" The insurance agent screamed.

  "I blew the building up." Killa said proudly.

  "Blew it up? Are you crazy! You just killed one hundred fifteen people!"

  "Make it an even one sixteen." Killa said pulling his gun. The man turned to run but only made it two steps before being gunned down. "Well, that was fun!"