The Writer’s Night

"Do you have a condom?" She whispered. "Fuck no." I answered, and added more, "I don't even have instant ramen."

With that answer out of the way, I can see her expression changed as she frowned a bit.

"Do you have sperm then?" Ayo Yinusha facepalmed herself, "Hell yeah." I laughed, knowing she's probably going to give up.

"Though I am immortal, seeing my off springs dying off from old age can be quite boring? So I'm not getting knock up by a poor bitch. Come on, let's go, five minutes walk to the seven-eleven."

"But mommmmmmmm, it's midnight."

"Tough shit, poor."

"No, I am not going!"

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

And so we did go, with a hand printed on my cheek, while I'm wearing a skirt with no underwear and something along the lines of the cover of this story, just because I don't want to get frame for false advertising like I always did.

"Something on your mind?" Ayo asked.

In the middle of the dark night, I could still make out Ayo the immortal landlord bitch since her hair is so fucking white that white America teenagers might be offended because that's offensive to black people how white that is. We walked towards a seven eleven where it was still open because demands are high for some stupid ass reason, but it was more empty than I expected at this time.

"All this time could have been use for commit suiciding." I answered.

Ayo didn't answer while I kept on thinking about how can I get rid of the water bill, electric bill, food bill and shits too now that rent is taken care off by her.

"Do you bring money?" She asked, while we brought a pack on condoms, rice balls, instant ramen and a few drinks.

"..." I stare at her.

"..." The bitch stare back at me.

"..." I think she knows the answer.

"Right. Poor lil' shit." Ayo chuckled. Didn't this bitch forgot money too?

Next thing I know, Ayo Yinusha was behind the counter serving customers while I was in the store's bathroom, between the spread legs of a strange man to pay off for those items. Hands tied behind my bag he smugged and got me to unzip him via my teeth.

Being a writer sucks.