Whew! He just made it out of another sticky one. Now, his nerves were all shaky and shit. Paranoid. Chain smoking his lungs to cancer. Fuck it! Mad bullshit was on his chest. Feculent!
His next move was as opaque as a rock. He was dancing to no beat. Eyes wide open, he couldn’t sleep. This bitch had him in her home, but he could not trust her. Her activity was weird.
Paranormal. She scared him every time she tried to flirt. She gave off that exotic snake feel… snake charmer vibrations! He knew that she would try to snake him for the bag. And when she did, he would murder her, the cat, the dog, and the fish. Since he’d been there in her house, she hadn’t fed the dog, the cat, nor the fish.
This nigga was going to be fish, cat and dog food for that bag with all of those big faces and drugs. Come up! She thought.
Now all she had to do was lure him into her web. Black widow. She played the murder game for that duffle, wondering how she would send him to his ultimate demise. Poison him? Rat poison in his food? However, he would not eat her food nor drink her juice.
This nigga’s weird. Every time she got close, he flinched. She tried to put the pussy on him, she wanted to ride him until he bust, and then slit his throat with the razor that she placed delicately under her tongue.
A fatal attraction!
This nigga wouldn’t even look. He has to be gay. She bust it open for him and everything. Plan B. Get on some crazy bitch shit. Grab the chainsaw, massacre this motherfucker. Blood all over the walls. The dog’ll lick it up.
He did not want to leave, but he could not stay. He could not take the chance of staying. If he stayed, he would slaughter the bitch. He could see it now, bullets all in her face! He didn’t want no more blood on his hands, at least not the blood of another bitch. The play was to take her keys while she was asleep, risk the road, praying that they did not have roadblocks on the road. If he could make it, he had a man a few exits up the road.
He was sunk in the couch, playing the cushions, eyes on the TV, peripheral on this bitch, duffle on his lap, hand on his strap. If she moved the wrong way, he would feed her brains to that nasty ass cat, and, let the dog lick on her face.
She was sucking on a lollipop, titties busting out of her tank top, boy shorts cutting her coochie, all up in her booty. She wanted a nigga to bust her. Nevertheless, he would not touch her. She stared at him with that mouth-watering grin, licking the lollipop as if she was sucking his cock.
She was a one of a kind kind of bitch! Bad bitch! Kill a nigga while he was eating the cat. Knife all in his back type of bitch! She stood up gyrating to her own beat. Fat ass jiggling, titties bouncing. She wanted him. She wanted to feel him all up inside of her before she killed him. She moved her ass in front of his face.

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Temptation! Umm the pussy smelled good. He could not resist a taste. He watched her shimmy out of the tight shorts. She was going to give a nigga the pussy by force. What was a nigga to do? Play with fire. She probably put the poison in her snatch. He was a nigga so this was a chance he was willing to take.
She popped that pussy for a real nigga. He busted her from the back. She tried to get on top, but he told her, “nah, only from the back.” She moaned loud. No faking. Her plan was becoming a cloud, half-hearted mission. Should I abort? Too late.
He jerked. She jumped off his dick, rolled to the side of the couch and grabbed the machete that she hid under his seat. She swung it slashing his cheek. she was wielding the sword naked.
He Just bust. He was shocked- the bitch cut his face. His gun dropped. He stood, pants down, he fell. Oh my God. She lunged with the sword, he blocked it with the bag. She cut it open. The floor was covered with all his drugs, some of his blood, and all of his cash. She swung the knife again, he jumped back, she swung again.
This bitch was crazy! She was handy with the blade, swiping away, on guard and shit, as if she was fencing. She wanted this nigga’s head. She could smell the iron in his blood, it was all in the air. She inhaled and swung harder.
Damn, this bitch was lethal with the sword. Game of Thrones! He had to get away, but this bitch was not having it. She was pivoting and thrusting away, swinging the heavy metal at a nigga.
Dragon glass.
The dog was barking, the cat was meowing, and the fish was flipping. Ha-ha-ha, he laughed. This bitch was wicked. He should not have fucked her. Ha-ha-ha, he laughed again. This time thinking about the proverb: you live by the sword, you die by one. However, he lived by the gun.
He reached for his gun, and she chopped his finger off. Blood gushed out of the spot where his pinkie used to be. His heart raced. This might be his time to give death a taste.
She was a gladiator performing in the arena to the cheers of the cash, the dog, the fish, and the cat. Xena!
Blood leaked from his face and his hand. One more lunge would be a plunge of the sword in his chest.
Oh my God- she fell. The break that a nigga was looking for. The sword hit the floor with a clunk. He would not let her grab it. He snatched it. She screamed, “oh my God! Do not kill me!”
He kicked her in the face, “shut up, bitch!” The anger over took him, he chopped off her head with her sword. All out of hate. Like in the movies, blood squirted from her neck. Damn, he was responsible for another bitch’s death.
He searched her crib up and down and found her little stash of cash. He then stitched up his hand, and the gash on his face. He found the keys to the car and took her wig. She couldn’t use it. He grabbed her noggin and threw it in the tank. Her brains would be food for the piranhas. He left her body with the cat and slid with the dog. He looked at the bloody mess that he caused. He laughed. Ha-ha-ha I’m out!

Published by korymcclary1221

My name is Kory McClary, I am 34 years old. I am currently serving a lengthy sentence at the New Jersey State prison in Trenton, New Jersey. I am fighting for my freedom so that I may return to my family and loved ones. Yet, I know that it is a long, tough, and bitter battle to achieve that goal. But, with the grace of God Almighty, and for the sake of my family, I will fight on. I am using this blog as a medium to enhance my voice and to bring awareness to my unfair condition leading out of my unjust conviction. While spending almost all of my time in a cell, I chose to write so that I may voice the reality of my situation, because without awareness there can never be Justice...! To escape the harsh reality of prison, I use the pen to release my frustrations. I use the pen to manifest my imagination. And, most of all, I use the pen to Fight. I am fighting for my Life! Just by reading Kory McClary's Blog, you are giving my plight and my word's a voice. Thank you. Please, stay tuned...

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