The Perpetrator Part I
Copyright. By Larry Wilson AKA Dapharoah305 @ 2006.


In a fit of rage, and trying to keep it under wraps, I froze where I stood when I entered my home on Wiltshire Street, Miami-Dade County, Florida.

"Keep 'em off."

I kept the lights off.

"Come inside the goddamn house. Nonchalantly..."

Reluctantly, bile rising in my throat, I did what I was told..

Why was he whispering?

"Close the door."

Fright nearly coloring me blind, my hands trembling uncontrollably, I flinchingly closed the door, getting more eery and nervous as the hand on my grandfather clock by the start of the foyer steadily turned.

"Lock it."

I locked it. The sound of the lock jumped like angry moneys from every wall down to the start of the hallway in the form of an echo. I barely had any furniture in my home, just a simple love seat, low-table, black and white TV I bought from the Good Will and bedroom furniture. I didn't even have a refrigerator or stove because I still used my homeboy's resources at his crib. Kept my lightbill down fifty percent.

Scared and tired from a grueling day at work (and my throat parched 'cause I cussed out the Bank of America bitch at the Teller for giving me back two hundred dollars out my account when I asked for twenty) I sat down on the ottoman by the front door trying to fathom the idea of accepting this farce in my beautiful home in all black, ski-mask, black laced tightly boots and black silky gloves that shined with a certain zeal I never saw in diamonds.

"Stand up."

Hesitantly, I stood up, the niggah said it so silently I felt feathers turn to Medusa's eyes in mah blood stream transforming every vein, every artery, every pulse of my heart to stone, and now inside my soul there was suddenly the new Era of the Ice Age meets the Stone Age.

I shoulda felt like that when I hurt all those people...

The Perpetrator smiled. Smiled big, Cheshire cat smile. The eyes glittered dangerously close to diamonds. I could see the rays of the Sahara Desert sand oozing from a very wicked voice. He stood there so meticulously. So immaculately, the way he stood shot images of my ex-wife into my mind. She used to stand like that. With the head slightly slanted to the left. But this wasn't my wife, this niggah was try'na rob me. How long had he been in here? Why wasn't anything moved? Ravaged?

I surveyed my room so fast he didn't notice: six hundred dollars on my low-table, on the side of him, hadn't been touched, hadn't been moved, the crisp-feeling and smelling bills were just the way I left them. Three Rolex's on the TV, behind him, hadn't been moved.

It was then I realized he wasn't try'na rob me.

He just wanted me.

The Perpetrator kept the Beretta aimed at my chest, while I stood here, bloody and naked. My legs drummed together like a cracked out marching band sent to the wrong parade and now everything was drenched from a very unwanted summer rain in the fall of my life at the moment and now I prayed for solitude.

And I continued to turn into Winter. I could build Inca pyramids with the stone of my heart alone.

"Unzip my pants." Another harsh whisper. The words were rushed like a great, much-needed wind through my front door when I opened every morning, like I usually do, taking my 6 feet tall, 210 pound ass to work.

"Unzip..." I couldn't talk, I swallowed hard, frightened at the sight of that shiny pistol. That scary pistol. That life-threatening pistol. It was dark in this room, the glow of the moon shining through the open window housed with termite-infested wainscoting and absolutely no goddamn curtains ('cause when my wife left me two years ago, I was then 24 years old, catching me in bed with a man I told her was my Daddy's son, my brother, and he was anything but blood to me) she took our two sons, Dexter and Hector, who were Lil' Hot Boys in the making, and every piece of furniture and every article of clothing there was to take, she even took my clothes. And I never seen her again. She never called. She jumped the state of Florida and went to California where, over the next two years she got married and had two daughters, concreting her status as the Woman who Left the One Alfred Symone, one of the sexiest arrogantly-dressed niggahs in Florida. All the hoes wanted this dick. All the niggahs wanted this dick. Straight niggahs begged to fuck me or be my first. Confused niggahs just wanted to suck my dick and I never turned down free money or free head. Never. Stupid niggahs let me dick 'em down and leave 'em. Rich niggahs spent doe on me when I wanted cheddar. Crazy niggahs became fatal attractions.

Like the Perpetrator standing before me.

My so-called brother, James Black Love, was my secret lover who I wanted to be mine for a life time; I met him when I was thirteen. I fucked him when he turned fourteen. I claimed the asshole when I was fifteen when I met the beautiful Fran, who was to have both my sons and be my faithful wife. She had nine brothers and two sisters and I fucked EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM, even her delusional mother Maria. Maria with the Killer Pussy. I see why her late husband kept them babies coming: the bitch had good pussy. Goddamn. Make you yodel like Chester the Cheetah when you nut up in that shit, for real.

But this ain't about Maria. This is about her son. James. Who loved being Black. And was filled with Love. I shot niggahs over him. I never let a bitch or a man touch him. If he told me he gave up the ass to a niggah I found the niggah and beat his ass so bad I don't think the Coroner's wanted to be bothered. And then I took James to bed or a hotel room and fucked that pretty asshole so long, so hard, so fast, that he screamed out he would never give it up, I had the little bitch scared of dick after I was done. I nutted all over his ass, face, stomach, all down his throat, he swallowed my load eight times that night 'til I shot blanks. That's why the niggah got all that pretty dark chocolate Taye Diggs skin.

He was a niggah I told, "Just call me Tyrese mah niggah 'cuz I'll be there when you need me...," a niggah I fucked from here and all through his Mama's house, Brother's condo, grandma's trailer (his grandma was deaf, dumb and blind and to secretly mock her handicap I dicked him down right in front of her while she sat there trying to watch the Golden Girls by moving her old, elegant-swinging, shaking fingers over the Braille on her lap); thirteen states in three years I fucked James while we were in college having the biggest freaky sex of our young lives (like we were supposed to).

And now my life was in danger. I zipped down the Perpetrators pants.

"Pull it out," said the stone-cold freak. I look up at him. Breathing hard. I didn't know I was pissing all over my rug. Expensive carpeting at that. $12 per yard. And that could feed the homeless.

I pulled out his dick...Hard. Rubber. Mocking. It was a dildo. Thick. Filled with jelly. And when the whisper told me to wipe my piss all over it and suck it off I jumped up and the butt of the Beretta came smashing down on my head and I wound up back on my knees.

Face to face with a five foot eight perpetrator with a dildo as a dick all in my face.

"If you think I'm just gonna let you jump up in my face then no, no, NO, NO, NOO I won't have it bitch," he whispered to me. and I withered like a fat bitch falling down four flights of stairs.

I put my hand in the warm, clear-looking piss.

The Perp smiled.

"Rub it on ALL THAT PLASTIC BITCH!"