CRACK ATTACK!
You emerge from your dark den of iniquity and step into the horrible sunlight, twitching spasmodically from time to time as the symptoms of your crack withdrawal progressively worsen. You hiss and coil away from the sun's scorching rays. You are a creature of the night, driven to face the day only out of extreme need - the need for crack, your one and only lover (not taking into account your right hand and local stray cats).
The ghetto is a flurry of activity today; with songs of birds and bees and the blare of sirens and the vibrant laughter of lazy minorities filling the air. Shielding your eyes from the wrath of the sun's rays, you press onward. Nothing like the desperate need for crack to motivate a person. It is what fueled the crime-wave of the late eighties.
Anyway, it's not long before you find yourself standing in the ill-lit hallway outside of her apartment. Wasting no time, you begin pounding on the door. Several painful moments of silence ensue. "WHO IS IT!?" the stupid ho finally answers. "YOU THE POLICE!?"
"It's me," you answer cooly. "Open the door, you stupid hag!"
"WHO!?"
You crack your knuckles, your rage ever mounting. "ME!" you repeat yourself. "The fool you ripped off last night!"
Again, more unsettling silence. "OH!" she finally replies. "YOU THAT CRACKER FROM DOWN THE STREET!"
"Just open the fucking door!!!" you scream.The stupid bitch unbolts the door and opens it ever so carefuly until you help her in this endeavor and shove it open the rest of the way. The heavy wooden door thumps against her forehead and knocks her hard to the filth covered floor. She looks up at you like a cockroach about to meet the bottom of a shoe.
Whitney Houston certainly has fallen from her former 'grace'. "How dare you push me! I'm a diva," she proclaims defiantly, slowly rising back to her feet. "I AM A DIVA! A DIVA! You hear!? I'm the Queen of All Divas! I'm a..."
"SHUT UP!" you snap, slapping her hard across her bony face. "Gimme some crack!"
She snorts, her nostrils flaring - breathing up all of the white man's air with her wide negroid sinus cavities - and throws up exotic hand signals. "I got other drugs, baby. But I aint got no crack!" she avers.
Hmmm....
The ghetto is a flurry of activity today; with songs of birds and bees and the blare of sirens and the vibrant laughter of lazy minorities filling the air. Shielding your eyes from the wrath of the sun's rays, you press onward. Nothing like the desperate need for crack to motivate a person. It is what fueled the crime-wave of the late eighties.
Anyway, it's not long before you find yourself standing in the ill-lit hallway outside of her apartment. Wasting no time, you begin pounding on the door. Several painful moments of silence ensue. "WHO IS IT!?" the stupid ho finally answers. "YOU THE POLICE!?"
"It's me," you answer cooly. "Open the door, you stupid hag!"
"WHO!?"
You crack your knuckles, your rage ever mounting. "ME!" you repeat yourself. "The fool you ripped off last night!"
Again, more unsettling silence. "OH!" she finally replies. "YOU THAT CRACKER FROM DOWN THE STREET!"
"Just open the fucking door!!!" you scream.The stupid bitch unbolts the door and opens it ever so carefuly until you help her in this endeavor and shove it open the rest of the way. The heavy wooden door thumps against her forehead and knocks her hard to the filth covered floor. She looks up at you like a cockroach about to meet the bottom of a shoe.
Whitney Houston certainly has fallen from her former 'grace'. "How dare you push me! I'm a diva," she proclaims defiantly, slowly rising back to her feet. "I AM A DIVA! A DIVA! You hear!? I'm the Queen of All Divas! I'm a..."
"SHUT UP!" you snap, slapping her hard across her bony face. "Gimme some crack!"
She snorts, her nostrils flaring - breathing up all of the white man's air with her wide negroid sinus cavities - and throws up exotic hand signals. "I got other drugs, baby. But I aint got no crack!" she avers.
Hmmm....