Wrath White: Like Porno for Psychos

It was at the fifteenth annual Player’s Ball in New Orleans. An old pimp who called himself Hundred Dollar Bill and still maintained a stable of nearly thirty women introduced the exotic inhalant to him as they watched the whores compete in a striptease to see who was the best “Bottom Bitch” in the West. While naked prostitutes undulated on the floor and dry humped each other, Hundred Dollar Bill pulled out a fat sack of weed and another of dried opium leaves and began mixing the two together on a CD cover of James Brown’s greatest hits. He cut open a White Owl cigar with a switchblade, dumped the tobacco out into an ashtray, then rolled the opium and marijuana up in the cigar paper while extolling the virtues of the pungent cigar to G-Town.

“Forget all that cocaine and heroine and ecstasy and junk. That stuff don’t do nothing but make you stupid. I mean, that’s all cool to impress the ladies, but this here is the bomb. This is the real pimp shit. Brother, this will put the ice in your game. How do you think I’m able to hold down a stable when I’m damned near sixty years old? Because I’m a visionary. It was my idea to start sellin’ pussy over the internet. This here is where I get my visions. The Native Americans have peyote, Timothy Leary introduced acid to the white boys, to the pimp, the spirits of our ancestors speak to us through the chronic. Now lace it with a little of this opium and the effects are ten-fold. Man, a couple hits of this and you can see eternity and it is sweet, my brother. It is so sweet.” He took a long draw on the over-stuffed joint and passed it to G-town.

“Like peyote for pimps, huh?” G asked, as he turned it over in his hands.

“Something like that, yeah. It helps a brotha see the truth beneath reality. See, cause that’s where a pimp lives—beneath reality, in its disease infected bowels. This here helps you negotiate through the sewers.”

With only a modest stable of six girls, G-town deferred to the wisdom of his more successful elder and began indulging regularly of the hallucinogenic weed. He was hooked after the first night spent watching the room spin and whores twist and contort like images in a funhouse mirror. They wound up spending the night together. Retiring to a four-star hotel suite with the best hoes from their collective stables. For a man in his late fifties, the old pimp fucked like a teenager. He of course attributed his stamina to the weed. He said it made every experience more intense. Tonight however, all it seemed to do was make the horrible images of Cocoa’s savaged corpse more vivid, adding details to it that he hadn’t been aware of before. Like the way her eyes were half-lidded and a sly smile seemed to stretch across her bruised and battered face as if she’d just had a really good orgasm or smoked some bomb-ass weed herself.

G pulled the Mercedes to a halt at the corner of Broad Street and Spruce where his other two whores were busy getting money. He gave Selena two tabs of xstasy and a long hit off his joint before kicking her out onto the sidewalk. They always felt special when he let them hit from his joint. He told each of his ladies that it was a privilege only granted to them and that he would kick the shit out of them if they told and made the other girls jealous. They knew he was full of shit, but they liked the way the weed made them feel when combined with the Xstasy. It almost made them want to fuck the sweaty, overweight, undesirables that lined up to punch their pathetic erections into the girl’s distended orifices each night.

“Now go get my money, bitch,” G cooed affectionately, planting a long slow kiss on Selena’s lips and trying not to think of how many cocks she’d sucked with that mouth. Most women would do just about anything with their mouths that a trick paid them to do except kiss them. That was just too intimate. That was the one thing they reserved for their man and any pimp who refused to kiss his whores, no matter how many buckets of cum she’d sucked down that night, would soon find himself whoreless. It was one of the prices a playa had to pay to be part of the game.

He tasted the minty flavor of mouthwash and was grateful that she’d remembered. All of his whores carried mouthwash and douche in their bags. The type of tricks who paid two hundred dollars an hour didn’t want to smell a woman’s profession on her breath or when she spread her legs.

“You sure you don’t want me to take care of you first, Daddy? You look like you could use some of this good Puerto Rican pussy right now.”

“All I want from you, bitch is two thousand dollars before sunrise. You hear me?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

G-town swallowed a capsule of X and watched Selena’s tight voluptuous ass bounce off down the street, enveloped in black leather. He felt his dick stiffen in his pants as he remembered how well she could work that miraculous calypigian.

Maybe I could have used some of that fine Spanish pussy after all. He thought. Maybe busting a nut in her perfect ass would have cleared the cobwebs from his head and put some sunshine back into his thoughts. It was too late now. He would look weak to the other girls and they’d get jealous if he pulled her in off the boulevard for a quick fuck. He’d have to wait until the end of the night when she was done getting his paper.

G sat there on the corner for nearly an hour, watching Selena and his two other hoes Yolanda and Tina turn tricks like they were born to the task. They always worked harder when they knew he was watching. He knew that if he wasn’t there they’d probably be slipping into the alley to smoke weed and snort coke or they’d spend an extra twenty minutes with some trick, telling him their fucking life story instead of giving him the pussy, getting his money, and getting the fuck back out on the stroll.

He nearly finished an entire bottle of La Bleue as he watched his girls prey on the male sexual appetite to his economic advantage. It was a good night. The tricks were biting and G could almost see the dollars stacking up. Still, he was short two hoes now, and that meant less money no matter how you sliced it.

As if it wasn’t hard enough for an honest pimp to earn a living, now he had this mess to deal with, some lunatic murdering his product. Fate wasn’t content to make his life miserable by having the cops bust his hoes just for standing on the corner too long or shaking them down for free pussy. It wasn’t bad enough that the other pimps were always trying to pull hoes from his stable. There were tricks raping, robbing and sometimes killing his moneymakers. Then there were the usual obstacles of hoes getting pregnant, drug addicted, falling in love with a trick or just getting so lazy he had to break his leg off in their ass on a regular basis just to keep his money from getting funny. And now there was something out there eating his bitches. This was the last thing that G-town needed.

The night before they’d found his bottom bitch and main money-maker, Desiree’ “White Chocolate” Williams, with most of her female anatomy cannibalized and now Cocoa was gone too. G had tried to put a spin on it with his remaining girls to keep them from getting scared and running.

“Now, I know y’all miss Desiree’. I’m gonna miss that bitch too. And not just for the four gees a night she was pullin’ down. She was the first hoe I pulled in this town and she’ll always have a special place in my heart. But she was too stuck on the cunnilingus. She probably tried to get some pimp to eat that sweet pussy of hers and he got mad and sicked a pit-bull on her ass or something. I done told ya’ll to steer clear of those other pimps. They catch you even looking at them and they’ll try to claim you. I know it’s a hard lesson, but y’all got to learn that pussy-eatin’ is for the tricks and the other hoes in the stable. Ain’t no pimp gonna go for that shit. Not even with his bottom hoe. Y’all bitches don’t know how well y’all got it with me. Man, there’s some hardcore gorilla pimps out there that’ll cut a bitch up just for talkin’ some shit like that.”