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Date Posted: 18:19:19 03/30/03 Sun
Author: "Shit Talker" Tyrone Walker
Subject: Sorry, nigga, THIS ONE!
In reply to: "Shit Talker" Tyrone Walker 's message, "Every nigga wants ta' PAR-TAY! (EVERYONE READ)" on 18:14:29 03/30/03 Sun

A familiar platinum limo pulls up to the Robo Arena apartments. Smoke is pouring from the barely-cracked back door windows and several topless ladies are dancing in the open sun roofs. This time, there's a jacuzzi in the rear where Tyrone Turner, taking care not to wet his humungous afro bobs his head to the sounds of K.C and the Sunshine Band as two white hos sit next to him, giant fake titties floating atop the water and jiggling. Tyrone stretches and takes his arms from around them and stands up ... his golden-colored swin trunks hang to below his knees ... for a good reason ... as he steps out onto a pair of fur slippers and Mufassa tosses a fur coat around him to keep his skin warm against the cool Juno air. Walker snaps his fingers and the two hos in the hot tub feel around under the water and pull out the legless Norman Smiley, complete with scuba mask and tank, from under the water. He removes the mask and licks his lips, smiling from ear to ear.

SMILEY: "DAMN! I haven't licked something for that long since momma bought me my first Tootsie Roll Pop!"

WALKER: "No problem, brutha - its amazin' yo' dick ran out of juice 17 hos ago and you still want some action wit' tha ladies. Nigga, you somethin' else. You be munchin' that shiz-nit like a vulture on a 3-day old armadillo ass."

"WORD."

Suddenly, a "KIA!" is heard as from a dumpster Captain Japan appears with a forward flip onto the hood of the limo. He begins to confront Walker, talking with his lips out of sync with his voice.

JAPAN: "Hei! So it is you, my arch nemesis! My boss has sent me to beat you up! For you see, my Kung-fu is superior to yours! Japaneese Kung-fu of Master Wu is the best! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Walker eyes the flamboyant japaneese midget atop the hood of his limo from head to toe, striking a karate pose. Tyrone begins to speak out of sync as well.

"I see. But have you heard of my master?"

"And who might that be, pray tell?"

"Master 'Huggy Bear,' you slant eyed, oriental, rice-eating muthafucka!"



"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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