Rap 3

Almost immediately someone was knocking on the screen door. I ignored them. Jack or someone else would answer it. The banging persisted. I opened my eyes a crack. The actual front door was always left open. I could make out a figure peering through the metal screen. She looked familiar. She noticed me on the couch.

“Dammit, Mudd,” she said, “wake your goddamn lazy ass up! Wake up!”

I ignored her. She began pounding on the metal screen.

“I know you can hear me you bastard! Why didn’t you call me last night?” She pounded again. “You said you would!”

I recognized the voice now. It was my girlfriend, Veronica. I ignored her.

“Fuck you, Mudd! I know you can hear me.”

She was cupping her hands to reduce the glare from the sun. Her jewelry rattled each time she hit the door. She always wore a lot of bracelets and rings. I could not avoid her much longer. I opened my eyes.

She saw through me. She knew I was weak. I opened my eyes.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“You know who the fuck this is, you asshole. Now, unlock this door and let me in!” The dogs across the street were barking now.

“Hang on,” I said, reaching for a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table. It was empty so I pulled a substantial butt from the ashtray and lit it. I sat there for about a minute.

“It’s about goddamn time,” she said when I opened the door. She came in, and I sat back down on the couch and closed my eyes. She climbed on top of me.

“Baby, you know I miss you when you don’t call.”

She began kissing me on the neck. Veronica was a very forgiving woman. If I failed to call her for a period of time it made her want me more. I cannot explain it. That’s just the way she was.

“Let’s go in on your bed,” she said, running her hands over my chest. She saw through me. She knew I was weak. I opened my eyes.

“I have a headache,” I said. Which was true. Veronica began kissing my head.

“I’ve got the cure for your headache.” She was treating me like a little boy. “You’re all red. Did you fall asleep in the yard again?” She got up and grabbed my hand. “C’mon, let’s go lay down on your bed.”

My dick was now hard enough for mashed potatoes, and I looked down to make sure it wasn’t obvious. Veronica was pulling on my arms. She wanted to screw. The front of my shirt and jeans was covered in dried grass clippings.

“I can’t do anything looking like this,” I said.

“You’ll be out of those clothes in no time.” She was pulling hard now.

Then I remembered. There were two teenage girls in my bed.

“Let’s go have a cigarette first,” I said.

“You just had one.” She was pulling me toward the garage. I couldn’t stop her. We were almost to my door.

“So what did you do last night, dear?” I asked.

“I stayed at home and thought about you,” she said.

As she reached for the knob the door opened. One of the desert-skinned girls, the one who had stretched her leg over the other, stepped out wearing one of my t-shirts. It was a t-shirt that Veronica had given me for my twenty-ninth birthday. It had been special ordered and embroidered with the words “Veronica’s Cock.” The phone rang.

“I’ll get it,” I said.

Veronica beat me to it.

“Hello…yes,” she said, then looked at me. I grabbed for the phone. She was too quick. “No, he’s not here right now.” Then she hung up. I turned around and she ripped the phone out of the wall and threw it at the back of my head. It rang when it hit my head and it rang when it hit the floor.

“You bastard!” she screamed. “Man-cunt!” She slapped the back of my head. “I oughta cut off your motherfuckin’ dick, you whore! Fucking cheap-ass gigolo!” Then she hissed like a cat at the girl and flipped her the bird. When Veronica slammed the door on her way out one of Jack’s framed pictures fell off the wall.

My head didn’t hurt anymore. I stood and looked at the floor for a minute. Then I looked up at the girl in my t-shirt. She was standing with one leg feeling its way up the corner of the wall. We went back to my bed. I fell asleep between them. I still couldn’t figure out who the hell they were.

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