her not to question his authority and she acted like she was mad. He paid for her a plane ticket and she went straight to her girlfriend’s house.
“Not again Tricia. What’s wrong with Catfish? Hasn’t he made enough money so that he can get outta’ this shit? You know if you play with fire, you might get burned!” Tricia’s girlfriend, Bonnie, said as she fired up a blunt.
The weed was so strong, that when she exhaled, a wheezing sound stirred from within her lungs as if she had the flu.
“Damn! Tricia, where the fuck you be getting this weed from girl?” Bonnie managed to choke out before passing it to Tricia.
“Shit, Catfish and Malcolm nem’ be flying to Egypt to get this shit,” Tricia said before almost choking on the second hand smoke.
“Egypt? Niggas smoke weed in muthafuckin’ Egypt? Got damn.”
Both women started laughing at Bonnie’s silly joke, but both women secretively wondered if niggas really did smoke weed in Egypt. Tricia got up and walked into the kitchen. After looking into the refrigerator, she went back and sat down on the sofa.
“Damn Bonnie, what you got in this house to snack on?”
“Man my food stamps ain’t came yet girl.”
Tricia eyed her with a teasing look on her face,
“Damn, B, you just as ghetto as I don’t know what.”
Bonnie giggled, then shook her head at Tricia’s remark, although it was true. No doubt about it, Bonnie ... was ghetto as hell.
“Shit, I ain’t got it like you Trish ... you wanna’ go to the grocery store?”
Tricia already knew that question was coming. She was beginning to think that Bonnie only invited her over so that she could buy the grocery, and Bonnie could just sell the food stamps. Nevertheless, Bonnie was her home girl and she had no problem with that. Besides, Bonnie was always there when Tricia needed her.
“Yeah B, let’s run to the grocery store ... wit’ yo trifling ass.”
Bonnie started laughing and went off to retrieve her keys. Bonnie’s car was an ashy black, 1996 Nissan Maxima. She had possessed the same vehicle for numerous years. When Tricia got in the car, she couldn’t get away from noticing the similarities between Bonnie’s apartment and her Nissan. They both could use a thorough cleaning, and both smelled of cheap weed masked with an even cheaper cherry incense.
“Damn B,” Tricia said after observing the empty Mc-Donald’s’ bags covering the floor of her car, “you need to clean up yo’ car, girl.”
“Yeah Trish ... I know right? It’s just that I haven’t been motivated to do nothing lately. I need to find me a man ... I’m gettin’ so sick of using my Lil Pocket Rocket that it’s a shame.”
“B, that’s too much info.”
Both women started laughing. Bonnie inserted the keys and turned the ignition, but the car wouldn’t crank.
“Damn! You see what I mean Trish? I don’t know shit about cars ... I’m sick of being lonely.”
Bonnie got out and pulled up her car hood, more in an effort to signify that she needed help, because she definitely had no clue as to what the hell she was staring at. After a few minutes, a guy pulled up in a Ford pick-up truck. He got out of his truck wearing a Jiffy Lube jacket and a concerned look on his face.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” The guy asked in a concern manner.
Bonnie instantly started flirting as she told the man about her vehicle not being able to start. He grabbed his toolbox from off the back of his truck and made his way back to the car.
“Hey Miss Lady, turn the ignition so that I can try to fix it for you.”
“Okay,” she said delightedly as she hurried back to get behind the wheel, “I hope you can fix everything.” She smiled at Tricia, who smiled back at her girlfriend’s inside joke.
“Okay, hold it ... now turn it ... hold it ... try it again ... okay stop.”
The man fidgeted in his tool box until he found the tool he was looking for. Then he walked around to the driver’s side and motioned for Bonnie to roll down her
“Not again Tricia. What’s wrong with Catfish? Hasn’t he made enough money so that he can get outta’ this shit? You know if you play with fire, you might get burned!” Tricia’s girlfriend, Bonnie, said as she fired up a blunt.
The weed was so strong, that when she exhaled, a wheezing sound stirred from within her lungs as if she had the flu.
“Damn! Tricia, where the fuck you be getting this weed from girl?” Bonnie managed to choke out before passing it to Tricia.
“Shit, Catfish and Malcolm nem’ be flying to Egypt to get this shit,” Tricia said before almost choking on the second hand smoke.
“Egypt? Niggas smoke weed in muthafuckin’ Egypt? Got damn.”
Both women started laughing at Bonnie’s silly joke, but both women secretively wondered if niggas really did smoke weed in Egypt. Tricia got up and walked into the kitchen. After looking into the refrigerator, she went back and sat down on the sofa.
“Damn Bonnie, what you got in this house to snack on?”
“Man my food stamps ain’t came yet girl.”
Tricia eyed her with a teasing look on her face,
“Damn, B, you just as ghetto as I don’t know what.”
Bonnie giggled, then shook her head at Tricia’s remark, although it was true. No doubt about it, Bonnie ... was ghetto as hell.
“Shit, I ain’t got it like you Trish ... you wanna’ go to the grocery store?”
Tricia already knew that question was coming. She was beginning to think that Bonnie only invited her over so that she could buy the grocery, and Bonnie could just sell the food stamps. Nevertheless, Bonnie was her home girl and she had no problem with that. Besides, Bonnie was always there when Tricia needed her.
“Yeah B, let’s run to the grocery store ... wit’ yo trifling ass.”
Bonnie started laughing and went off to retrieve her keys. Bonnie’s car was an ashy black, 1996 Nissan Maxima. She had possessed the same vehicle for numerous years. When Tricia got in the car, she couldn’t get away from noticing the similarities between Bonnie’s apartment and her Nissan. They both could use a thorough cleaning, and both smelled of cheap weed masked with an even cheaper cherry incense.
“Damn B,” Tricia said after observing the empty Mc-Donald’s’ bags covering the floor of her car, “you need to clean up yo’ car, girl.”
“Yeah Trish ... I know right? It’s just that I haven’t been motivated to do nothing lately. I need to find me a man ... I’m gettin’ so sick of using my Lil Pocket Rocket that it’s a shame.”
“B, that’s too much info.”
Both women started laughing. Bonnie inserted the keys and turned the ignition, but the car wouldn’t crank.
“Damn! You see what I mean Trish? I don’t know shit about cars ... I’m sick of being lonely.”
Bonnie got out and pulled up her car hood, more in an effort to signify that she needed help, because she definitely had no clue as to what the hell she was staring at. After a few minutes, a guy pulled up in a Ford pick-up truck. He got out of his truck wearing a Jiffy Lube jacket and a concerned look on his face.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” The guy asked in a concern manner.
Bonnie instantly started flirting as she told the man about her vehicle not being able to start. He grabbed his toolbox from off the back of his truck and made his way back to the car.
“Hey Miss Lady, turn the ignition so that I can try to fix it for you.”
“Okay,” she said delightedly as she hurried back to get behind the wheel, “I hope you can fix everything.” She smiled at Tricia, who smiled back at her girlfriend’s inside joke.
“Okay, hold it ... now turn it ... hold it ... try it again ... okay stop.”
The man fidgeted in his tool box until he found the tool he was looking for. Then he walked around to the driver’s side and motioned for Bonnie to roll down her
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