Big Pimpin'

Ok, here it is...the first entry. I know her personally, or I wouldn't have believed the story. But it's true, and here it is. If you can top this one, please let me know. Enjoy!

~ms m

So I met this guy at the gas station by my house as I was getting off the bus the day after I broke up with my boyfriend. He and a friend were simultaneously pumping gas and vying for my attention, and he won with the loudest “Hey Lil Mama, what it do?” For whatever (dumb) reason, I continued talking to him, and we ended up going out a couple times. After a month or so, he invited me to “meet his dad,” which was a surprising and somewhat frightening prospect for me, but I had nothing to do, so I accepted. Once we were in the car, he informed me that his dad was ‘pimpin’’, which I more or less wrote off as something normal that he’d say about anyone who he liked or respected.

After a couple close brushes with death on the freeway, we ended up at a rundown apartment building in a part of the Valley that was more ghetto than any part of L.A. I’d ever seen (to my shock and dismay), and we proceeded to his father’s unit. I walked in and was introduced. As soon as I laid eyes on his father, I began to realize that my friend’s description of him as ‘pimpin’’ had probably not been figurative, as in ‘cool,’ but literal, as in ‘vendor of prostitutes’. I was looking at an older, slightly paunchier version of Katt Williams mixed with Suga Free with his hair in pigtail twists. I stared in awe as he instructed his son how exactly he wanted him to roll up a blunt (“leave a little bit of air in there so it burns right”) and poured himself a strange mixture of cheap piña colada mix and some brandy in a paper McDonalds cup.

It was then that he decided to ask me if I’d ever considered becoming a prostitute, and after I replied that I had not, he went ahead and schooled me on the profession and lifestyle. Suddenly, he said to his son, “You know what, she looks just like Boo!”

Of course I had to ask who the hell Boo was. “Oh, she was one of my dad’s hoes that made him a lot of money back in the day.”

Oh, the flattery! To add insult to injury, his dad popped a DVD in the DVD player and told me to pay attention. It was a movie about pimps and hoes featuring pimps smacking their hoes up, having little pimp children with their hoes, threatening neighborhood children and recruiting them as mini-pimps, etc. It was probably the classiest hour of my life.

And so I stood, awkwardly, for a good two hours while they played chess (there were only two chairs in the apartment) and tried to coerce me into becoming a whore. Apparently Pimp Daddy wanted his son to pursue the same career that he had and thought I would be a great asset. I deflected P.D.’s advances (asking for my number, licking his lips at me, staring at certain regions of my body, glorifying the life of a ‘ho’, etc.) for the rest of the night and reflected upon the direction my life was taking, suppressing urges to hurl myself out the nearest window or run screaming into the night.

Luckily, Aspiring Pimp, Jr. landed himself in jail shortly after, and I was freed from the pressures of pursuing a life of prostitution under his wing. I decided to avoid men at gas stations and ones that address me as ‘Lil’ Mama,’ which was probably the best decision I’d made in awhile.

~ Lil' Mama