RAPE! (4)

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Today is Friday, which is alias for my Matthew Temple special. To make today particularly special, I have a double bill for you. First up, the next episode of RAPE! Then discover Matthew from his contemplative side in the next blog post.

 

“Put your gun away man.”
“Yeah, put it away.”
“Macro, watch yourself.”
“You’re going to get us arrested.”
“No one’s going to get arrested.  I’ve got a permit to carry this.  Stop making a big deal.”
“It is a big deal.”
“Biotik.”
“What?  Were you going to say something?”
“Yeah.  Just.  Stick to what you know, man.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t know shit about firearms.  I had to take a weapons safety training course to get this permit.  So I know shit about firearms.”
“Just keep it away, man.”
“Just watch your mouth, Macro, or I’ll thump your girl.”
“You ain’t gonna thump shit.”
“Macro, you’re pissing me off.  If I wanna thump your girl I’m’onna thump your girl.  Now why don’t you two get on with your date.  Sherman and I are gonna find us some pussy.”
So Macro and his dog bitch girl wandered off into the night, to have ugly sex between ugly people which everyone knows is shit.
And Sherman lectured me on the anti-merits of Holding a Gun When One Goes Out Selecting Pussy and the Pitfalls of Aiming a Gun at a Bitch When You Don’t Intend to Shoot and the like.  Sherman was getting very professorial, and I wondered when he was older if he would be like the ancient schoolmarms which traversed our school and taught our classes.
“You need to leave your piece at home.”
“But how will I make bitches all scared like?”
“I don’t know.  But sooner or later, if you bring your gun out, someone’s going to call the police.”
And what do you know, he was right.  The very next morning my roommate who was a stinky faggot woke me with a start.  The stinky faggot informed me that the police were at the door and behold, as I looked up from my covers there were the old black and blues, peeking into our dorm room door.
My gun was on my desk chair, fully loaded.  I threw a pair of boxers over it, very casual, and pushed the stinky faggot out of my way.
“Do you mind waiting outside, you stink,” I said, and the stinky faggot complied.
As he pushed open the door I could see there were two of them, short cop and tall cop, and they were no doubt ready to play all sorts of games with little old me.
“Can I help you?”
They spoke my name.  “Is that you?”
“Yes.  What’s this about?”
“May we come in?”
“Come right in, come right in brothers.  Can I interest you in a cold brewski?”
“We’re on duty.  Have a few questions for you about last night.”
“Last night eh?  Can’t say I know much about it.”
“Can’t say you know much about what?”
“About anything, really.”
“Were you at Bruno’s on State Street last night?”
“Indeed I was!”
“Do you own a weapon, sir?”
“I own a wee Glock.”
“A Glock.”
“A wee Glock.”
“What makes it a wee Glock?”
“It’s very small.”
“Did you take your Glock with you to Bruno’s?”
“My wee Glock?  No I did not.”
“Where do you keep your wee Glock?”
“I keep my wee Glock in a safe back in Burlington.”
“In Burlington.”
“Yes.”
“Mind if we search your room?”
“Be my guest.”
So they start rummaging through my closet and that of the stinky faggot.  I make sure they know that one’s not mine.
“What are you looking for?”
“Let us ask the questions.”
“Oh.  Duly noted, my good man.”
“What was that?”
I enunciate.  “Duly noted, my good man!”
“Do you think this is funny?”
“Am I laughing?”
“What were you doing at Bruno’s?”
“Scoping out bitches.”
“What?”
“Me and my cronies were scoping the fly hunnies.  Bitches.  Sir.”
“You know you’d get more pussy if you stopped calling women bitches, don’t you?”
“I beg to disagree.  Sir!”
“Did you point your gun at a Miss Angeline Brewster?”
“I’ve never met a Miss Angeline Brewster.  Sir!”
“Did you point your gun at anyone?”
“My gun is in Burlington.  Sir!”
“Do you know what the mandatory minimum sentencing is for felony assault with a firearm?”
“No sir!”
“And you weren’t out pointing your firearm at any women last night?”
“I was simply looking for a little pussy, sir!  I had started out earlier with my boy Tic Toc.  His name is Sherman but I call him Tic Toc sir!  We headed out of the crib and met up with Macrobiotik at Bruno’s, sir!”
“What is macrobiotic?”
“Macrobiotik is my homeboy, sir!”
“Your homeboy’s name is Macrobiotik?”
“Macro for short.  Sir!”
“You can quit with the ‘sir.’  You could spend a lot of time in jail if this lady’s accusations are true.”
“I don’t want to go to jail, sir!  Sorry about the sir!  I’ve heard people get ass fucked in jail, not-sir!  I’d like to die an asshole virgin sir!  I can’t help it sir!  I’m not ready to be fucked by a nigger in prison sir!”
“You have a bad attitude, son.”
“I know, sir!”
“You’re acting like somebody who has something to hide.”
“My story is complete, sir!  There was no harassment at Bruno’s.  Just a lot of bitches looking to get ass fucked by a carrot.  Have you ever ass fucked a woman with a carrot sir!”
“Why don’t you sit over there while we search your place.”
So I sit at my desk, on top of the boxers covering my gun.  And I feel that gun pressed into my ass and I think of what it must be like to have a Glock 9mm stuck up your ass by some psychopathic faggot who wanted revenge for all the times I’ve used the “f” word.
These cops were thorough, but they weren’t searching under my butt.  They worked their way through the room, opening drawers, looking on top of the closets, then they made me sit there while they went up and down the hall questioning my hallmates.
When they came back they asked me if I was sure my gun was in Burlington.
“Scout’s honor.”
“Are you even a Scout?”
“It’s an expression.  What?  You think that just ‘cause I said ‘Scout’s honor’ without being a Scout that that makes me a liar on the point of my gun being in Burlington?  My gun is in Burlington, rest assured.  Just because my bitch-ass hallmates say otherwise doesn’t MEAN SHIT!”
Then they ask me if I’m on any medication for psychiatric illnesses.
“No.  Not that I know of.”
“Are you aware of the university health service?”
“They treat scabies and STDs, right?  I don’t have any STD’s.  I fuck clean bitches.”
“And what do you mean when you say ‘fuck bitches?’”
“You’re kidding, right?  I stick my pee pee in they cooch.  What the fuck you think I mean?”
“Do you ever get rough with a bitch?”
“Why would I get rough with a bitch?  Maybe I slap ‘em in they mouth when they act up.  I mean I might do that from time to time.”
“You know that’s assault, right?”
“I’m not admitting to anything.”
“You need to treat bitches right, ok?  When you get a bitch to suck your dick, that ain’t no license to fuck her, and when a bitch lets you fuck her, that ain’t no license to hit on a bitch.”
“Now wait a minute, who ever said I be roughin’ up on bitches?  Did they say that?”  I point to the hall.
“We’ve had reports.  Bitches be callin’ us and lettin’ us know what you’ve been up to, bro!  When you stick yo’ dick in a bitch, and she don’t want you to, sometimes bitches be callin’ us the next day and gettin’ they insides swiped.  We find you spunk inside a bitch that didn’t want to be fucked, you could go to jail.  Bitches’ insides be they own.  You can’t fuck a bitch ain’t got no permission.”
“Respek.”
“Now, did you take your piece to Bruno’s last night or not?”
“Nah, man.”
“You didn’t pull your piece out on some bitch named Angeline?”
“Nah, man.  But that bitch was actin’ up.”
“What did she do?”
“She was lookin’ all fly and shit.  She was wearin’ tighty fishnets and I could see her maxi pad between her legs and shit.  It was stickin’ out.  I was thinkin’ about that bitch’s pussy and shit.  Bettin’ she had a fly pussy.  Wanted to do a finger test with ye olde pinky, if you catch.”
The officers were coming closer, and I squirmed me butt around the Glock, trying to conceal that I wasn’t sitting on flatness.
“What’s a finger test?” the one officer asks.
“When you get a bitch captive,” I say, “you want to perform Ye Olde Finger Test.  This is where you finger a bitch progressively with one finger, two fingers, three fingers, four.  Start with your pinky.  Ideally you want a bitch who passes the one-finger test, meaning that when you stick yo’ pinky up that bitch’s cooch that bitch is tight as hell.”
“What happens if she fails the test?”
“You move on, my brotha, you move on.”
“Well, we’re going to be keeping an eye on you.  If it turns out you’re hiding your Glock on campus there will be serious consequences.”
“Good, my brotha, right with you.”  I give them the old thumbs up.
“And take it easy on the bitches.  I know you like to fuck but bitches be havin’ feelings.  It’s important that everyone be treated with respect.”
“Respek.”
“No.  Respect.”
“Respect.”
“That’s right.”  The officer gives me the thumbs up.
“And you boys take it easy on the road.  You never know with these university brothas, when someone might go ballistic on ya, jump out guns blaring, like maybe if he had a personal grudge or something.  So anyway take care, I doubt we’ll be seeing much of each other after today.”
Then those black and blues took their smug faces and they left me be.  And I stood up from sitting on my Glock, and straightened out my ass cheeks.

(from RAPE! by Matthew TEMPLE. Read the rest of this story here.)

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