Guest Writer: RJ tells "AZ ain't for Me"

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Next up we got my cousin RJ who is the star of many of my stories. His story is interesting to me in that it reminds me a lot of my Arizona story. What the fuck is wrong with the girls in that state that makes them so easy to lie to?

Second thing that struck me is that this is a great story from RJ, but would make an even better story coming from his uncle (my cousin Anthony) about how he played RJ. You got played, kid. Oh, yeah, you might need my dictionary post for some of his terms, whitey.


Hey all you Moose lovers, RJ here. You know, Jason's Super Fly cousin. Yeah, I know, you all want my body, but I'm married so bug off. Jay asked me politely for a funny story, so here's one of them. I got plenty, but this one goes out to a special girl. As Jason so eloquently puts it: Story Time.

Back in 1993, when I was 13 years-old, I visited Arizona. My aunt and uncle lived in a nice complex in Scottsdale. Their house was very nice, spacious, and I had a huge room with a big bay window that faced the front. That was a little creepy because there was a light right above the door that shined through the window every night. What was worst, my uncle told me 5 years earlier, on a stormy night, some lunatic killed his family a few houses down. What was worst than that was the guys 12 year old daughter managed to make it in front of the bay window before she died. My uncle said that sometimes he would hear a little girl trying out front, but when he would go check it out, no one was there.

Ok. I'm from Red Hook, Brooklyn. I'm not scared of anything. Or so my pride said. I was petrified. I had to spend a month and a half in that room.

Two weeks pass and I heard nothing. One afternoon I'm sitting at the pool when this hot girl comes in. I'm talking smizoking hizzott. Dark tan, crystal blue eyes, brown hair. I was dizzy. I have my little radio with me and a bunch of the latest rap singles and a couple of full albums. I crank the volume up, letting her know I'm the alpha male. She put her headphones on.

Strike 1.

Now I feel like a mo-mo. I can't sit here and not step to this foxy momma. So while she's tanning, I grab my balls, ‘cause that's what we do in tha hood, and walk over to her.

Me: Sup, yo?

Her: Um, hi.

Me: You from around here?

Strike 2. Of course she was. It was a private complex, complete with the residential pool we were at.

Her: Yeah.

Me: True dat, true dat.

Awkward silence.

Her: Where are you from?


Me: I'm from Brooklyn.

Her: A city boy. What are you doing here?

Ball 2.

Me: Chillen’ wit my aunt and uncle for the summer.

Her: Oh, who are they?

Me: Anthony and Kathy.

Her: I know them, they're cool people.

Me: Yeah, I know.

By this time I had walked. No more batters box for me, I'm going to first. We talk a little more, just bs'ing for a while. I can’t take my eyes off her body. I mean everything about her was perfect, down to her pedicure. I asked how old she was.

Her: 17.

I'm 13 at the time, but 13 ain't gonna cut it with this. She asks me.

Me: 15.....

Caught stealing. I could see it in her eyes. I could feel it in my face. Whatever chance I had was now gone. Especially when she got up and started to leave. It got dark real fast, and I'm stuck there.

Her: Well, it looks like a monsoon is coming. We shouldn't be by the pool. Why don't you come back tomorrow so we can hang out?

Wait a minute, did I hear that correctly?

Me: Uh, yeah, sure, uh, true dat.

She laughed and waved goodbye. Yea, I'm gonna score.

The next day I'm there super early. I didn't want to miss her for anything. I waited until it got dark. My stomach was rumbling, I was sweaty. I go to my uncle's house dejected. I couldn't believe I got played. That don't happen to me. Especially in Arizona.

Later that night I go back to the pool. There's this girl there. She's sitting where the pretty one sat. Now this girl is pretty, but she wasn't MY girl. I get in the pool and chill. This girl keeps looking at me so I smile. She smiles back and waves me over.

Red Hook mode. This I'm not fucking up.

I go over to her and make small conversation. She was actually prettier up close than I thought. I'm laying it on thick and she seems to be loving every minute. She asks me if I want to hang out with her that night. She was home alone while her parents took her sister to therapy. Of course I want to hang out. I want to hang out all over your voluptuous (edited out for fear of family reading this).

So it was a date. She was coming to pick me up in 20 minutes. Enough time for me to shower and throw something ghetto on. She's there in exactly 20 minutes. We hit a 7/11 that's right in front of the complex. She buys a pack of smokes and a condom.

Home Run.

We go to her house and sit on her porch. She wants to know all about the Brooklyn Thug Life, so I give it to her. I tell her I'm in a gang called MDK, ( I didn't lie to her about this, but I didn't tell her that MDK stood for Mentally Disturbed Kids, and that there was only 5 of us 13 years old or younger). I told her I was in shoot outs, I did drive by's. I told her that we got into gang wars and we once beat this kid into a coma. I was so good you'd think I was Tu-Pac. And she ate it up. She was getting excited and I knew it was a wrap. She brings me inside her house, sits me down in the living room, and jumps in the shower. I'm patting myself on the back, high fiving the air. Hell, I got up and did the qui-qui dance. She comes out and she’s glistening. She's all wet and wearing only her bra and panties.

Her: Come to my room.

GRAND SLAM! I'm going to Disney Land.

I get to the front of her room and my pimp sense starts tingling. Maybe it was the blood red curtain she had for a door, but that wasn't going to stop me from hittin da skinz. So I go in.

This is where it gets scary for me. Inside her room she's got a black light. There are candles all around that she starts lighting up. Posters of the Grim Reaper and heavy metal bands are covering her black walls. Pimp senses are screaming for me to run, but I can't move. She turns to me and tells me with a voice not her own: “Take my body.” I want to run, but instead I sit on her bed. She straddles me and shoves her tongue down my throat. My heart starts pounding. She pushes me down on the bed and takes off her top. Next thing I knew, the condom was on and some freaky Gwar type of music was coming from somewhere.

It gets blurry from there on. Bits and pieces come to me in flashes, but my therapist tells me I need to suppress them. I do remember her trying to scratch my back and telling me she wanted to lick my blood. I do remember her pounding on my chest like I was King Kong. I do remember crying. I remember waking up in my bed at my uncle's house, but not knowing how I got there. That damn light illuminated everything. I felt violated. Raped. I couldn't even tell my aunt or uncle about it because I was Gansta #1.

I never saw that girl again. Her sister saw me one day by the pool and told me she went away because she was sick. I took it as it was. For the rest of my stay I looked for the hot chick, the first one. I figured I could talk to an angel about the Demon Bitch from Hell. No luck. One of my last nights there I asked my aunt about her. My aunt told me there wasn't any girl that fit that description living in that complex, but I insisted that she knew her. I told her I spoke to this girl right before a monsoon. My aunt went pale. She told me she did know a girl who fit that description, but she was killed 5 years earlier by her father. She died in front of that bay window on a stormy night. I slept in the living room the rest of my stay.

True story. Except for the therapist part.


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