Yolo: The Lovely Little Lunatic Read online

  YOLO

  The Lovely Little Lunatic

  Sa’id Salaam

  © 2014 Sa’id Salaam

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.

  Prologue

  “Damn it Philomena, did you have to put these so tight!” Thadeous Frank grumbled straining once more to free himself. His wrist and ankles were secured firmly by thick plastic ties to the heavy dining room chair in the extravagantly furnished dining room. It made no sense complaining to her at the opposite end of the long oak table because she was in the same position.

  “She has our baby Thadeous; I did what I was told to do!” his wife shot back in a muted whisper through clenched teeth.

  Mrs. Frank wasn’t one to sass her husband, especially since he provided her lavish lifestyle. She turned a blind eye to all his indiscretions but had no doubt his insatiable greed was the cause of the current predicament.

  Thadeous Frank was about as straight as a circle. In the real world people seek trustworthiness and honesty in a C.P.A. but in the underworld corruption is a virtue. Mr. Frank had a knack for taking duffle bags of dirty, filthy, drug blood money and bringing it back crisp and clean. On average, he ran a hundred mil through his financial washing machine annually.

  He took a generous ten percent for his trouble. He proved true the adage of no honor among thieves by skimming a few more points off here and there. He didn’t have much respect for his black and Latino customers and assumed they wouldn’t miss it. Most didn’t but Casper did. He may have been the boss of the Black Mob but he was neither black nor stupid. He wrote the first loss off as an oversight but the next time the money was short he sent someone to collect.

  “Please Thad, give her what she wants! She has our Jacinthia!” Philomina Frank pleaded.

  “Look she’ll never find it. Never! Once she gets tired of looking I’ll give her a few grand from the safe and let her scurry along,” he shot back. Baby or no baby he had no plans of coming off that cash. He liked the kid and all, but she wasn’t worth ten million to him.

  “Please, it’s been hours. Jacinthia must be terrified,” Mrs. Frank moaned looking at the kitchen door where the intruder took her child.

  “Stop bitching, you’re making too much out of it. What can that girl do?” he said curtly. Thadeous was smug like that, confident, always in charge. The silly man had no idea who was upstairs in their home searching for stolen money.

  “You’re good! I still can’t find it!” the intruder sang in the singsong manner of an eight year old as she breezed back into the dining room.

  The couple both frowned at the sexy maid outfit she had changed into but for different reasons. The high priced item was cut low in front and high enough in back to show the pert caramel ass in a thong underneath. Thadeous recalled the one time his pasty white wife wore it for him and it didn’t look like that.

  “Is she wearing my lingerie?” Mrs. Frank complained to her husband then turned to the girl. “Where did you get that?"

  “Same place I got this,” she giggled and produced a large brown dildo. Brown from the porn star who modeled for it. The white lady turned beet red from embarrassment.

  “Well I never!” she huffed indignantly.

  The intruder frowned dubiously, sniffed the vibrator, and gave it a flick from her tongue. “Yes you have,” the girl giggled sheepishly. She looked at her target and covered her mouth suddenly coy. “Oh I see you!”

  “Frank!” Philomina shouted seeing her husband’s stubby little erection standing up.

  “Here relax,” the uninvited guest said turning the knob at the base of the dildo. She giggled again when it began to vibrate with a soft buzz. She shoved it under the woman’s vagina and tuned towards the kitchen with Thadeous’ eyes glued to her ass.

  “How’s Jacinthia? She must be hungry,” Mrs. Frank asked desperately.

  “I doubt it,” the girl laughed over her shoulder as she left the room. “We’ll talk more after dinner.”

  “Just give her what she wants! I said nothing about your affairs and…stuff,” she demanded trying to ignore the building pleasure the vibrator was creating.

  “She said we’ll talk after dinner. She hasn’t found anything in the…” he paused to look at the grandfather clock, "four hours she’s been here! I’ll give her ten grand and she can run off and buy some crack and colorful clothes those niggers love so much!”

  Mrs. Frank missed the last sentence from the buzzing between her legs. She shook her head ‘no’ as she tried in vain to stave off an orgasm. It was futile and she came with a loud grunt. It was the best orgasm she’d had with her husband in the same room. Then she concentrated and went for seconds. Her pleasure was cut short before she got to bust another nut.

  “Dinner is served,” the girl announced pushing the sterling silver dinner cart into the dining room. On it were two plates topped by silver domes to keep the food warm.

  “Would you mind loosening our hands so that we may partake in this wonderful meal?" Mr. Frank requested sweetly. He attempted to hide his devious plan behind the kind words and pasted on smile. The fifty-ish out of shape white man figured he could over-power the little girl. Boy was he wrong.

  “Um…ok but one at a time,” she relented. Thadeous again watched her firm ass shift as she skipped into the next room.

  She returned a few seconds later with the black satchel she came with. Before she opened it, she pulled the blonde dreadlock wig off and stretched her neck in relief. It made a dense thud when she placed it on the table. She un-zipped the bag and pulled out a long chrome pistol and even longer chrome silencer. “In case you try anything.”

  The girl next pulled a pair of wire snips and danced over to the Mrs. She cut the plastic tie that had broken into her skin from her movements. The woman immediately snatched the vibrator from between her legs.

  “Ladies first,” the server said placing the plate on the table in front of her. She removed the dome with an air of flair complete with, “Ta dah!”

  “Oh!” Mrs. Frank uttered at the attractive meal on the good china. She also noticed how pretty the girl was now that her face was no longer obscured by the dreads. She was the exact same shade that the lady took her coffee with milk, not cream. Although her features were delicate and defined, she had an odd look in her eyes. The far-away gaze of a lunatic. The curious gape of the deranged.

  “We have wild brown rice with slivers of almond. Braised Brussel sprouts in butter-garlic sauce and I’m sorry but I can’t pronounce the meat. Jaza or jasm? Something like that,” the girl explained.

  Philomina was scared the food would be poisoned but she was more afraid of the big pistol on the table. After a second of contemplation, she decided to eat. She popped a whole Brussel sprout in her mouth and chewed. A slow nod of approval began as she savored the flavor. Next, she sampled the rice and finally the pretty kabobs of meat and peppers.

  “How’s my baby?” Mrs. Frank asked after swallowing.

  “You tell me,” the chef asked in return.

  “I don’t follow?” she frowned curiously.

  “You said how’s my baby and I said you tell me. That’s what you’re eating. I didn’t over cook her did I?”

  “Noooo!” the mother screamed as the nightmare was multiplied times infinity. She pulled and tugged at the plastic tie cutting deeply into her wrist. “You’re sick! Sick!”

  “Me? You’re the one who ate her baby lady,” the girl shot back sarcastically. With the woman busy trying to cut her own hand off she turned her attention to Mr. Frank. “Have some? It’s thig
h, I hear that’s the best part. I wouldn't know cuz I don't eat kids. Well…”

  “Mm mm!” Thadeous declined squeezing his mouth tight and moving his head from side to side to avoid the forkful of baby thigh meat, she extended.

  “Ooh, I know what will make you open up,” she exclaimed cheerfully at her bright idea. She grabbed the gun a fired a silent round into his calf. Harmless, but it got him to open his mouth wide in an opera worthy high note.

  “Good?” she asked shoving the meat inside the open mouth. She didn’t wait for an answer and went back into her black bag. Thadeous took the opportunity to spit his kid onto the marble floor.

  Both Franks were dealing with their problems but the next item out of the bag took precedence. She stopped thrashing about and he longer felt the burn of the gunshot.

  “What the hell is that?” Thadeous demanded as its mere presence offended him. Actually, it should have.

  “This,” she began, holding up the circular wire contraption, “it’s the D.C. 2000! That’s short for decapitator 2000. I saw it in a movie and had to have it!”

  She went on to explain how the spring-loaded wire hoop snapped shut to a zero circumference when activated. It was strong enough to cut through a 2x4 so skin and bones were no problem at all.

  “Now I’m going to cut both of your heads off,” she said plainly, as if it were no big deal.

  “Why both of our heads? I don’t have anything to do with any of this!” Mrs. Frank pleaded in an attempt to save herself.

  “No, both of his heads I meant,” the girl explained going back into the satchel. The garden shears she produced needed no explanation.

  “Wait! Wait! Wait!” Thadeous appealed as she approached. “I’ll tell you where the money is!”

  “Too late,” she said slipping the D.C. 2000 over his head. “I’m glad you didn’t give it to me.”

  “Go to hell!” he shouted and in a final act of defiance, spit in her face. The lovely little lunatic smiled, licked the saliva from around her mouth, and picked up his flaccid penis.

  “Ok, bye-bye,” she sang and simultaneous hit the switch and closed the shears. The tiny dick head popped off and rolled under his chair. A second later, his big, bald head fell into his lap.

  Mrs. Frank stared on in stunned silence as her husband was decapitated. Whoever the girl was, she was a killer. A killa, a real animal. She let out a sigh of contentment and accepted her fate.

  “Well, time to go with your baby, but don’t tell her you ate her,” she whispered conspiratorially.

  Mrs. Frank lifted her chin prepaid to die with dignity. Instead of shooting her or cutting any parts off, the girl prepared to leave. She packed her pistol and D.C. 2000 into the bag along with the shears. She took the wire cutters into the kitchen and cut the gas line leading to the restaurant size stove. Then she breezed back through the dining room ignoring the confused woman.

  The girl made a stop in the family room and lit the fireplace. Once the gas made it that far the house would be leveled by the explosion. A sly smile spread over her face as she stepped over the body of the butler. He had smiled brightly when he opened the door for her and she shot him in it.

  When she got into her SUV and drove away, she added the two kills to her tally. The total was now 99 and she wasn’t quite 21. She pulled her cell phone out to report in to the boss.

  Casper smiled brightly when he saw the name on his caller ID.

  “Yolo! Did you get it?” the white boss of the Black Mob asked eagerly. He didn’t need the money but didn’t want anyone to have the satisfaction of stealing his and enjoying it.

  “No, he wouldn’t tell me,” she replied sadly. “Good news though. The D.C. 2000 works like a charm!”

  “That is good news. Have fun?” Casper inquired.

  “I did. I did,” Yolo said bouncing in her seat.

  A thunderous roar rocked the SUV and shook the earth. A glance in the rearview mirror showed a huge orange fireball where the house once stood.

  “Yay! One hundred!” she cheered knowing Mrs. Frank was in the debris blown sky high.

  You may wonder why a girl would derive such joy from killing people and the answer is because she’s crazy. You may also wonder how she amassed such a high body count at such a young age. The answer to that is simple too; she started early.

  Chapter 1

  “Here we go again!” the ER doctor groaned as the patient was wheeled in near death. The middle-aged white man didn’t care much for black people and he particularly loathed poor people. So this poor black woman was the scum of the earth to him. The fact that she was pregnant only made matters worse.

  “Great, another ghetto bastard! World get ready, here comes Leroy Johnson!” he quipped to the amusement of one of the two nurses present.

  The white nurse didn’t necessarily like the racist jokes but she did like the doctor so she went along with his jokes. The black nurse hated him, his jokes, and his cavalier attitude. And since her peer thought it was funny, fuck her too.

  “She’s in labor,” Nurse Marquita announced hoping to spur some urgency in her co-workers. They stood back while she attempted to wash the emaciated little crack head on the gurney.

  The dirt on her skin was clearly visible once her filthy clothes were cut off. Even the smell emanating from the woman could be seen like the ripples of heat emanating from an Arizona highway. Her frail body housed a misshapen lump, the body of her premature baby that was near death, in her belly.

  “Her blood pressure is through the roof!” Nurse Nancy said after inflating the arm cuff. She pulled yet another mask over her mouth and nose to avoid the suffocating stench coming from between the patient’s legs.

  “Why prolong the inevitable? Just let them die,” the doctor suggested in violation of both the Hippocratic Oath and humanity.

  “If you don’t attend to this patient like you would any other patient I will report you!” Marquita growled.

  “Oh ok!” he relented before doubling his mask and gloves and moving in. He shoved his whole hand inside the woman's beat up vagina to see how far she had dilated. Her vagina was so loose that it was laid open like a baked potato therefore his hand went in to the wrist with no problem. “Huh?”

  “No way!” Nurse Nancy said as the Dr. pulled out a whole condom, a piece of another, and a bottle top. She just shook her head at the mess on the stretcher. The crack addict still had twigs and leaves in her matted hair from sleeping in the woods like a squirrel.

  “Yes, it's in labor. The baby’s coming,” he said as he backed away.

  The bells and whistles began going off as the mother’s life slipped away. That gave the doctor an excuse to sit back and watch them die. Nurse Marquita couldn't sit idle. She rushed over and shoved her hand inside.

  “It’s breached, I have the feet!” she screamed just as the mother flat lined.

  “One down, one to go,” the doctor mumbled dryly. Marquita didn’t respond, instead she snatched the child out of its dead mother by its feet. She was then faced with yet another dilemma upon seeing the umbilical cord was wrapped tightly around its neck. The child's face was blue from lack of oxygen. The nurse quickly grabbed a scapula to cut the cord away. Then risking her own life she breathed directly into the child's mouth.

  “Marquita that woman is a registered HIV patient! She has full blown AIDS and hasn’t picked up her meds in months!” Nurse Nancy warned.

  The blue baby took her first breath just as the mother took her last. Nurse Marquita cut and tied the cord to prepare the child for the incubator where she would spend the first few months of her life.

  “Well, congratulations, another ward of the state is born. Welcome yet another burden for the tax payers,” the doctor bitched.

  “Guess you can do the honors and name her. She certainly can’t,” Nancy said as she pulled a sheet over the corpse.

  “Oh, here we go with another 13-syllable ghetto name!" the doctor cackled.

  “Oh do you remember the twins?” Nurse
Nancy reminded as she cracked up.

  “Denise and De-nephew! How could I forget!” he howled. Even Marquita had to stifle a chuckle at the memories of the gold tooth patient who birthed them.

  “How about Ephemeral, since it probably won’t survive,” Nancy offered seriously. The baby was weak, underweight, malnourished, and most likely HIV positive.

  “Well you only live once,” Marquita said finally noticing the sex of the baby. “Isn’t that right Yolo?”

  “Yolo Jackson!” the doctor repeated with a decimating nod as if checking the sound of it. “Nice ring to it.”

  “Yolo Jackson it is,” she said and took the child to the neo-natal unit to die.

  Only she didn’t die. To everyone’s surprise, the child was spared from the deadly virus that killed her young mother. She gained weight quickly and grew healthier by the day.

  However, the stoic infant never smiled, laughed, or cooed. Instead, she wore a perturbed look on her face as if she wanted to curse.

  Nurse Marquita wanted to adopt the child but her busy schedule had no room for an infant. Besides, it wouldn’t be much of a story if she had since the nurse would have provided the loving home and proper guidance a child needs to be well balanced. Instead she was going into the fucked up foster care system of New York. Blame them; it’s their fault that she grew up to be a lunatic.

  Chapter 2

  Young Yolo was passed from one abusive, dysfunctional foster home to the next. She picked up all kinds of bad habits, curse words, grime, and crime along the way. By four years old, she was on her way to being pretty fucked up, but the next stop went from bad to worse. The Brown residence was about as bad as it gets. It was both bad and worse.

  Wyandanch, New York is in the middle of Long Island. The once industrial suburban town was once a premier place for middle class blacks. Once the jobs dried up so did the town. It was quickly reduced to a suburban ghetto. What can be worse than slums in the suburbs?