"A true warrior of the streets. Come, my oriental friend, and meet your demise!"

"I attack with style of the crane!"

Mufassa presses "play" on a small boom-box as "Kung Fu Fighting" begins to blast from the speakers. Everyone gathers around to watch as an awesome display of poorly-choreographed B-Movie Kung Fu errupts. Walker fends off several blows from Captain Japan and leaps back as a spinning Tiger Claw rips one of his $300 shirts, revealing four bloody claw marks across his chest. Tyrone touches the wound with his finger tips, then licks his blood.

"Prepare your bitch ass for 'Street Rat' Style, nigga!"

Captain Japan strikes a defensive pose as Walker comes in, waves his arms before Captain Japan - then kicks him dead in the balls. Captain's eyes roll back into his head as he collapses, holding his nuts.

"I ... suffer ... defeat."

"YOU GOT DAMN RIGHT, NIGGA! Yo' ass specifically was taken out by de-left feet!

From a nearby port-a-potty facility, Death Warrior and Unknown Jobber rush out, trying to pull up their pants and buckle their belts. Eyeing Captain Japan unconscious on the ground in the fetal position and drooling, they turn their attention towards Tyrone and his squad of 23 hos, Norman Smiley, and Mufassa. They begin to approach. Walker eyes them as they grab Captain Japan and pull him to safety.

"you wanna' step up, nigga?"

Death Warrior: "Letmethinkaboutit,no?"

"Well, bitch ass, pick up your Power Ranger-lookin' rump-fuckin' friend and tell yo' boss if he want's some he gonnna' get some."

The two men ... and I use that term loosely ... help up their warrior friend and scuttler off through the back door (heh! "back door," get it? No? Queer.) of the Robo Apartments.

"What now, brutha?"

"Same thing we always be doin'! Fuckin' hos, smokin' cheeba, and makin' haters!"

Tyrone laughs as his entourage make their way into the Robo Apartments. A bellboy runs up to him and grabs his leather Gucci bags, smiling. Tyrone hands him a crisp $100 and a fleet of bell boys rush to the limo and grab anything and everything for transport to his room. Turner is handed the key by a smiling hotel manager who earns a quick $500. Tyrone looks at the key as his platinum-plated shades almost leap from his face.

"ATTENTION NEGROES AND HOS! Some muthafucka' be givin' us The Penthouse! To-night we are going to par-tay! Hey, you, scabby lil' nigga. I want you to go around to every Robo Wrestler in this mutha fucka, and every high-rollin' nigga in 100 miles and let them know dat Tyrone Turner is throwin' the biggest fuckin' party a nigga's EVER seen in The Penthouse. Tell those bitches to let bygones be bygones for one night and let the balls hit the wall on this. And, I want you to give Mr. Channel a PERSONAL invitation from me. Do this shit in two hours and yo' ass is earnin' a bonus."

The bellboy is handed a wad of bills and a stack of business cards. Within seconds the boy has hot-wired a nearby Corvette and sped form the Robo Apartments...

"It'll be a nice chance to meet the competition. Migga's, lets go."

Tyrone Walker and entourage make their way onto several passenger elevators and start movin' on up ...

... to the east side ...
... to a deluxe apartment in the sky-yi-yi
... we movin' on up ...
... to the east side ...

Sorry ...


TO BE CONTINUED ...

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