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the Crack Whore and the Convicted Rapist: a Fable
by michelle   July 18, 2005
crack whore rapist fable

Not so long ago in a land not so far away -- the mysterious place known as South L.A. -- there was Crack Whore and a Convicted Rapist. This is the true story of how they were destined to meet.


The Crack Whore was hanging at her cousin's crib, her babies at home, snug in their beds with their daddies nowhere to be found. "Yo, T.J., gimme one of them blunts," called the Crack Whore. She swigged wide on her Smirnoff Ice and staggered through the yard. "I need a smoke." The Crack Whore sprawled on a lawn chair and stared up at the sky through a drunken high haze.

Ten minutes or an hour later, a fight broke out between her cousin, T.J., and his second cousin, Darwahn, over the woman who Darwahn brought to the party and who may have been banging T.J. The Crack Whore, roused from her mellowed state, hollered, "Y'all gots to chill." Sadly, they did not chill and the fight escalated to include broken noses and flying objects. Her buzz effectively killed, the Crack Whore pounded another Smirnoff Ice and headed for home, two miles away. "Shit."

Though it was late at night and, truth be told, South L.A. was not a nice neighborhood, the Crack Whore was not scared to walk home alone. She had been born and raised there and felt no fear. Halfway home, the last of the Smirnoff buzz wore off and the Crack Whore popped into a Circle K for more. Alas, the Circle K did not sell alcohol.

"What up, girl? You need a ride?" A good-looking man in a not-so-good-looking Honda pulled up alongside the Crack Whore. She thought he looked familiar.

"I ain't lookin' to date you," she said. She meant that she did not want to fuck him for money. "Shit."

"No, girl, I ain't lookin' for no date. Where you going? You want a ride?" The man knew he had seen her around, but he could not quite place her face.

"I'm just going home, near Manchester and Fig." The Crack Whore opened the door and slid into the Convicted Rapist's car.


The Crack Whore and the Convicted Rapist talked about who they knew in the neighborhood (a few friends in common) and why they hadn't seen each other in a few years (on account of the rape conviction). Even though she had been on her way home, now that the Crack Whore had met a man, she was not in such a hurry to get there. She asked the Convicted Rapist to stop at a liquor store.

He had not seen any of his friends and had been looking for someone with whom to party, so the Convicted Rapist bought a couple Smirnoffs for the Crack Whore and a Pepsi for himself (on account of not wanting to violate his parole with a DUI). She wanted to drink a Smirnoff in the car, but the Convicted Rapist reminded her that was illegal. He said that he had to go by his mother's house to watch it for her anyway (on account of a drunk driver smashed her fence down), and suggested hanging out in his mother's yard for awhile.

Parked in front of his mother's house, the Convicted Rapist and the Crack Whore chatted while she polished off her Smirnoffs. Turns out that was not quite the buzz she wanted. "You got any rock?" she asked the Convicted Rapist.

"Hell no, I ain't got any rock!" the Convicted Rapist said. "Girl, I told you I'm staying clean."

"Shit. Look at them nice clothes and that cell phone. You gotta be doing something for money."

"I ain't sellin' no rock." The Convicted Rapist turned away from the Crack Whore and thought, Might as well take this bitch home. He started the car.

"Wait, wait." The Crack Whore stroked the Convicted Rapist's arm. "I'm just looking for a dove. You know where I can get a dove?"

The Convicted Rapist did not answer, though he knew where she could get a $20 crack rock.

The Crack Whore looked the Convicted Rapist up and down. "You get me what I want and..." she rubbed her hand over her well-used whore parts,"...I'll get you what you want."

The Convicted Rapist stepped out of the car and called Jet Li (not the actor Jet Li, but one of the Convicted Rapist's friends who liked to call himself Jet Li), who was in town and had some rock to move. The Crack Whore followed, anxious now that she knew she would score. She put her hands on the waist band of the Convicted Rapist's long basketball shorts and said, "Let me see what you got in there." She pulled the waistband out and looked inside. "That's nice. That's real nice." She stuck her hand in his pants and massaged his instrument of rape, but when the Convicted Rapist pulled her closer, the Crack Whore jumped back. "Boy, I need something else to get me hot. When's your friend coming?"

"Fuck, I just called him-" Before he could say another word, a Rottweiler the size of an Escalade jumped on the Convicted Rapist, barked in his face and ran into his mother's backyard. The mother's neighbor, Jackie, ran toward them. "Martine! Martine! You get back here!"

The Convicted Rapist's mother and her grandson came out the front door. "It's ok, Momma," the Convicted Rapist assured her. "Jackie's dog got loose again. It's in the yard." The Convicted Rapist, the Crack Whore, Jackie and Jackie's boyfriend all went around the house to the back yard. The Convicted Rapist turned on a light so they could see what they were doing. After some time, they managed to corner the dog and get him on his leash. When they returned to the front yard, the Convicted Rapist saw Jet Li at the end of the block.

The Convicted Rapist nodded. Jet Li nodded. A $20 bill and a foil packet exchanged hands.

The Crack Whore snatched the packet, climbed back in the car and pulled out her purse, ready for business. She split open a cigarette and was about to sprinkle the crack over the tobacco when the Convicted Rapist stopped her. "You can't do that shit in my car. I don't want that shit everywhere."

The Crack Whore, she just wanted to get her buzz on and was thwarted at every turn. "Fuck, where then? What's that light back there?" She pointed to the backyard, where they had just been.

"My momma's washroom."

"Let's go there."

They entered the washroom quietly because his nephew's bedroom was right next door. The Crack Whore laid her items out on the washer and assembled her crack-laced cigarette. "You got a lighter?"

"No."

"Anyone in there got a lighter?" The Crack Whore jerked her thumb toward the house.

"No one smokes."

"Shit." The Crack Whore made a sour face and looked the Convicted Rapist up and down. "Fuck. We gonna do this?"

"Hell, yeah, we're gonna do this." The Convicted Rapist widened his stance and leaned back against the dryer to watch the Crack Whore's striptease.

She either became bored halfway through or figured that it was not worth the effort, because she suddenly dropped her pants and bent over the folding table and said, "Let's do this shit."

The Convicted Rapist rolled on a condom and plunged his raping dick into her whoring pie and took care of his business. "Ahhh-"

Snap!

"Oh, fuck! Oh, shit! Did it-"

"Yeah, it broke." The Convicted Rapist grabbed a couple paper towels, pulled off the broken condom and threw it in the trash.

"Oh, fuck! Oh, shit! I don't need no more fucking babies!" The Crack Whore pulled her pants up and threw her stuff in her purse. "You did that on purpose. I don't need no more fucking babies!"

"Fuck that! It was an accident. I don't need no fucking babies either. Now shut the fuck up before someone hears you."

"Fuck! Shit!" The Crack Whore grabbed her purse and yanked the door open. "I'll get you for this."

"Girl, you gonna be alright."

The Convicted Rapist drove the Crack Whore to her friend, the Welfare Fraud's, house so that the Crack Whore could smoke her coke before walking the final few blocks home. Good riddance and good night.


Bang, bang, bang!

The Convicted Rapist's mother opened her front door.

"LAPD, ma'am." The officers showed their badges "We'd like to speak to Kevin Williams."

"He's my son. He doesn't live here."

"Ma'am, was your son here last night with a woman?"

"Yes, sir."

"May we check around the back of your house, ma'am?"

"Of course. What's it about?" The mother followed the officers around back.

"Do you know if your son had sex with the woman he was with last night?"

"Well, I-" The mother's hand flew to her mouth. "No, I don't know."

The officers peeked in the window of the washroom. "May we go inside?"

"Of course."

One of the officers took a cursory look around, while the other peered inside the trashcan then pulled on a latex glove. He picked up a wad of paper towels and broken black condom and dropped them in an evidence bag. The mother's eyes widened with alarm.

"Ma'am, do you know where Kevin is now?"

"No, sir, I don't." She folded her arms over her chest.

"Ma'am, could you please call him and ask him to come home? We would like to ask him some questions."

The mother dialed the Convicted Rapist's cell phone number with stiff, uncooperative fingers, a familiar storm gathering strength in her gut.


"Please state your name and spell it for the record. First name only." The court clerk asked the alleged victim.

"Shirlene. S-H-I-R-L-E-N-E."

"You may be seated."

The pretty prosecutor stepped up to the lectern. "Shirlene, do you know Kevin Williams?"

"Yes."

"Is he present in the courtroom today?"

Shirlene pointed to the defendant. "Yes, that's him there in the black."

"How do you know Mr. Williams?"

"I known him sort of for a few years. Just from around."

"From around the neighborhood where you live?"

"Yes."

"Did you see Mr. Williams on the night of September 22nd of last year?"

Shirlene looked at the microphone in front of her, down at her hands, up at the ceiling. "Ma'am, I told you I don't want to answer no questions about that."

"Did Mr. Williams rape you on the night of September 22nd?"

"Objection," the defense attorney spoke without urgency.

"Sustained." The judge did not look up from her computer screen.

The prosecutor straightened and tried a different tack. "Shirlene, do you know Detective Roads?"

"Yes, that's him there." Shirlene pointed to the well-suited man at the prosecution table.

"And did Detective Roads pick you up at your house this morning?"

"I just want to go home." Shirlene looked down at her hands as tears welled up in her eyes.

"Is it true that Detective Roads had to convince you to come here today?"

"I just want to go home." Shirlene's tears spilled over and the judge handed her a box of tissues. "Am I in trouble here? I ain't gonna answer no questions. I just want to go home."

"Your honor, may we approach?" After several secret minutes, the jury was dismissed for lunch. Upon their return, they saw Shirlene happily chatting with Detective Roads in the hallway. Once back in the jury box, however, they were told Shirlene would not be testifying and her previous statements from a preliminary hearing would be admitted into evidence instead.

Shirlene's Crack Whore cousin who was watching Shirlene's babies on the night of September 22nd testified for the prosecution. The Crack Whore Welfare Fraud testified for the defense. Mr. Williams testified on his own behalf.

The jury deliberated and decided that the Crack Whore witnesses cancelled each other out. Both perjured themselves on the stand. Mr. Williams told his story to the jury and Shirlene did not. The jury found reasonable doubt.


The court clerk read, "The jury finds the defendant, Kevin Williams, not guilty by unanimous vote."

As the jury filed out, Kevin Williams looked each juror in the eye and thanked him or her. Juror #7 looked away and thought, Don't thank us. Most of us think you did it.


This is the Happily Ever After part.


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