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Nobody called me fucking Stanley but my mama, and I hated that shit. I loved my pops, but I couldn’t rock with his name. Whoever heard of a thug named Stanley?
“Ain’t nobody worried about him. I have a gun, I have bullets, and if he wants one, he can have it.”
“Preferences are like elbows and assholes. Everybody has one. Bye, Stanley.”
“Is it crack? Are you smoking that good shit? It’s that or you rode that short yellow bus to school.”
“Please stop calling me that. My name is Deuce.” “Your mama named you Stanley. I’m calling you Stanley.”
She was addicting, and I felt the last loose screw come undone. Behind her, I would become completely unhinged.
“Nah, I’m about to make him a slut. Once I hit him with that ‘Why you sitting all the way over there’ line, he’s mine. Alexa, play ‘Slut Him Out’ by Baby Tate.”
“Pack you a bag. You’re coming home with me.” Just like that, I was sprung.
“Make no mistake. I’d never let any harm come to you. Anybody that fucks with you can get it.”
“Girl, you better suck that man’s dick so good his ancestors cum.”
“Either you gon’ be with me, I’m gon’ be with you, or we gon’ be together.”
“I love you and you love me. We can be Barney and the gang, or we can be Freddy versus Jason ’round this muthafucka, but you can’t get rid of me. Now, I have some business to attend to today. When I get back, I’m gonna cook a nice meal for you and your mama, and we are gonna eat dinner like the family we are.”
