Colonials are infected

[Alley]

Da shrill whistle markin tha end of tha third shift reverberated all up in tha bangin' metal of tha foundry, piercin tha eardrumz of every last muthafuckin worker present even over tha roarin furnaces n' constantly bubblin molten metal. It was always easy as fuck ta tell whoz ass hadn't been hittin dat shizzle there long, cuz unlike tha lifers -- inmates n' parolees whoz ass was straight-up likely ta live up tha remainder of they short lives up in tha oppressive heat, toilin away up in a thang dat had beaten they bodies n' they spirits tha fuck into weary submission -- tha newcomers almost always jumped clear outta they skins up in surprise as they clapped they handz over they ears ta stop tha fucked up assault on they hearing.

Carina was one of them, n' among tha few times she eva saw a hint of amusement and any sort of thuglife up in tha dead eyez of tha lifers whoz ass hit dat shizzle on tha line near her was when dat thugged-out biiiatch caught dem chucklin on tha fuckin' down-lowly all up in tha freshly smoked up ho frightened by tha shift whistle. There wasn't much bout dis thang dat she muthafuckin liked, ta be fair yo, but it was always dem moments when she straight-up hated dat shit. It had taken weeks fo' her ta win her foremanz respect, n' even longer than dat fo' her ta be relegated ta a thang dat muthafuckin gave her somethang dat required any effort. Compared ta tha hulking, twisted brutes covered up in burns n' scars from muthafuckin yearz of hard labor, Carina was like a lil mouse, standin a gangbangin' full head shorter n' a hundred poundz lighter than all but tha smallest pimps dat biiiiatch hit dat shizzle among, n' dat thugged-out biiiatch couldn't stand bein treated like a gangbangin' fragile relic dat would break under tha slightest burden. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. For what tha fuck seemed like forever she had been given da most thugged-out menial, pointless thangs dat required no exertion whatsoever, n' it drove her nearly ta tha point of insanity. Biatch was not a idle person, n' bustin dat kind of work was a affront ta her dignity, not ta mention tha fact dat tha clock seemed ta run backwardz when dat biiiiatch watched tha big-ass pimps go bout they toils while she piddled bout sweepin up bitz of slag.

Even though dat biiiiatch was small, especially compared ta her coworkers, Carina was deceptively phat n' hardy, had a grip far surpassin what tha fuck her lil handz looked like they could administer, n' she had begged fo' tha opportunitizzle ta prove dat shit. When she finally was given tha chizzle ta work at a smeltin furnace, dat biiiiatch hit dat shizzle her muthafuckin ass almost ta dirtnap up in order ta keep up wit tha others, never once lettin on dat dat biiiiatch was fatigued ta tha point of exhaustion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Biatch was never permitted ta work tha metal itself yo, but lifting, stacking, n' transportin ingots n' raw material bout tha factory floor was far less debasin than playin housemaid, n' tha work dizzle always went by so much quicker. Her body was a permanent, achy wreck fo' tha straight-up original gangsta solid two weekz of her freshly smoked up thang yo, but not one time did she eva diss and stop ta rest, n' playas was finally startin ta notice.

But tha one thang her big-ass booty still hadn't been able ta overcome, no matter how tha fuck she prepared, no matter how tha fuck carefully she tried ta pay attention ta tha time, her big-ass booty still fell sucka ta dat damn whistle. It never failed.

Biatch hit dat shizzle her jaw n' blinked hard, tryin ta conceal tha ringin up in her ears as she, as casually as dat thugged-out biiiatch could, placed tha last ingot on tha carryall n' gave it a hard slap wit her leather gloved hand, pretendin not ta hear tha on tha down-low laughter of tha relief shift. Pullin her gloves off she ran her calloused hand over her matted thick black hair, tha strandz dat had strayed loose from tha tight bun tha fuck into which she had pulled up in back. Da sweat soakin her scalp held dem up in place, n' she ran tha back of her forearm across her brow. Biatch had lived on tha hood Houston all her life, n' even though as any other Houstonian natizzle dat biiiiatch was accustomed ta tha wild temperature extremez of tha ghettoz climate, tha heat of tha foundry was enough ta dehydrate mah playas within minutes if they weren't careful.

Even though tha sweat-and-grime-soaked coveralls revealed not a god damn thang bout her figure n' her light tan skin was ruddy wit tha dayz effort, Carina could be called pretty by many, despite her undeniably brash, unladylike air. Biatch n' her sista Consuela had even gotten they handz on some makeup once, which was a rare luxury fo' some muthafucka of her hood class, n' dat thugged-out biiiatch couldn't deny dat she was horny bout what tha fuck her big-ass booty saw up in tha mirror. When her thin, demurely arched eyebrows was plucked, her eyelashes teased, n' a tiny bit of eyeliner n' blush accented her deep brown eyes n' high cheekbones, she had looked ghettofab indeed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch had always though her nozzle ta be a lil too pointy and her eyes ta be a lil too far apart yo, but she had from time ta time received a fuckin shitload of ill-conceived attempts at compliments on her unique blend of Hispanic n' Rheinlander features. But there was lil cause fo' some muthafucka like her ta git trussed up like a cold-ass lil clown n' parade bout like some self-absorbed bimbo lookin ta land a rich homeboy. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Even if dat biiiiatch wanted to, if her big-ass booty stayed all up in tha foundry fo' straight-up long, which her big-ass booty sincerely hoped not to, any potential beauty she might have would be marred n' ruined forever by tha heat of molten lead n' steel.

Stuffin her gloves sloppily up in tha breast pocket of her loose coveralls, she put her handz on her hips n' surveyed tha factory floor quickly, bustin a funky-ass big-ass sheezy of noddin ta her muthafuckin ass up in satisfaction of a physically demandin n' tirin thang well done, still bustin shizzle ta prove ta tha other pimps dat dat biiiiatch was as cut up fo' dis work as they were.

A surly Hispanic playa wit a thick gray Fu Manchu mustache n' a shaved head came stridin up just then. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It was Rodrigo, her relief worker, n' tha only thug up in dis miserable thang dat she felt any sort of camaraderie with. His left arm was almost entirely covered up in tha gnarled remnantz of a nasty-lookin burn, n' his cheek had a long-ass scar dat ran from his nostrils ta his wild lil' fuckin ear. His shouldaz rocked up ta go muthafuckin right up ta his head, his neck lost up in a mass of hulkin muscle. To mah playas whoz ass just kicked it wit him, da thug would look like any other dangerous convict yo, but Carina knew better. His cracked lips pulled back up in a yellow-toothed grin that, oddly, had tha unmistakable air of welcomin playaliness, when da perved-out muthafucka saw her muthafuckin ass. Carina smiled back at him, not her usual tight-lipped, forced smile yo, but tha genuine, warm smile she only gave ta her sister, her mutha, n' ta his muthafuckin ass.

"Buenos dias, Lauchita!" tha big-ass playa holla'd ta her warmly, slappin her on tha shoulder firmly yo, but obviously wit far less force than da thug was capable of delivering. "Dope one todizzle?"

Carina scowled playfully at his ass n' punched his ass squarely up in tha chest as hard as dat thugged-out biiiatch could yo, but it wasn't even enough ta make his ass back up a step. "Callate ya, cabrón," she retorted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shizzle happens all tha time. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. "How tha fuck nuff times do I have ta rap I don't give a fuck bout it when you call me that!"

Rodrigo laughed mischievously, pretendin ta fend her off as if intimidated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shizzle happens all tha time. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. "Sí, I know," da perved-out muthafucka holla'd, still chuckling. “Thatz why I do dat shit.” Biatch shook her head, tryin ta suppress her grin as he pulled on his wild lil' freakadelic gloves, preparin ta take her place. Da night shift workers was beginnin ta file outta tha cavernous foundry as tha straight-up original gangsta shift was filin in, two opposin currentz of bodies movin around dem like a river flowin around a rock juttin outta its bed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da two of dem looked around fo' a moment before Rodrigo was rappin again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. “Yo ass hear from LPI bout yo' application yet, mija?”

Biatch shook her head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! “Not yet. I hope there'll be a wave waitin fo' me when I git back home,” she replied.

“How tha fuck nuff times you taken they exam now biatch? Two?” he axed.

“Three,” Carina erected his ass wit a on tha down-low sigh. “And props fo' remindin me, pendejo.”

Rodrigo shrugged. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! “Just askin',” da perved-out muthafucka holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! “Still don't git why yo ass is so stuck on dat shit. Yo ass know you gots a hell of roadblock ta git around, wit yo' daddyz record n' all.”

Biatch narrowed her eyes up at him, sayin not a god damn thang aside from a cold-ass lil cold stare.

Immediately he threw his handz up in front of his ass defensively. “Yo, hey, I be just sayin' be all,” da perved-out muthafucka holla'd doggystyle. “I just don't wanna feed you any lies, mija. Yo ass gots ta be realistic be all. Muthafuckas like you n' me, we're tha bottom of tha barrel. May not be straight-up legitimate yo, but tha cops ain't likely ta hire from tha dregs down here, especially not some muthafucka like Felix Ibánezz kid, you know?”

“I need ta git going,” Carina holla'd tersely, n' started ta go.

Rodrigo stopped her wit a hand on her arm. “Mija, hold on,” he pleaded wit a paternal air ta his voice. Carina avoided his wild lil' fuckin eyes at first yo, but she knew his thugged-out lil' patient silence wouldn't abate until she either conceded and tha foreman came along ta kick her up n' git Rodrigo on tha line, so she finally looked back up at his steely gray eyes. “I ain't tryin ta upset yo thugged-out ass. I just don't wanna peep you git yo' hopes up too high just ta be pissed tha fuck off. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shizzle happens all tha time. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Look around you here,” his schmoooove ass continued, motionin around tha foundry floor wit his bear paw of a hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! “See all dem faces biatch? All dem shattered dreams biatch? That ain't what tha fuck I wanna peep on yo thugged-out ass.”

Carina couldn't muthafuckin help give his ass a smirk. “So settle up in n' be aiiight I be here, is dat it?” she mocked.

Dude flicked her nose, n' she had ta twitch it n' consciously force her eyes not ta gin n juice up. “Don't be a smartass, Lauchita,” his schmoooove ass chided, grinning. “I know yo ass is destined fo' bigger thangs than this. I be just sayin' keep yo' options open.”

Biatch kept tha smirk on her face. “Glad yo ass is lookin up fo' me, Rodrigo,” her big-ass booty holla'd half-sarcastically.

A voice over tha loudspeaker boomed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! “First shift ta yo' stations!”

Rodrigo grunted n' looked back at her, slappin her upper arm. “Better git goin',” he holla'd at her muthafuckin ass. “Don't wanna keep yo' Daddy waitin up on ya.”

Carina scoffed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! “Fuck dat shit, our crazy asses wouldn't want that, would we?”

“Hasta mañana, Cari,” da perved-out muthafucka holla'd, n' gruffly took tha carryallz powered handlez n' started ta shove it away tha fuck into tha crowd.

Biatch stood there on tha fuckin' down-lowly fo' another moment. “Yeah,” dat biiiiatch whispered ta no one as dat biiiiatch watched his ass go. “Tomorrow.” With a sigh, she turned ta head fo' tha locker room, takin care not ta limp and shuffle even though her body creaked up in protest wit every last muthafuckin move.

Not fo' tha straight-up original gangsta time, dat biiiiatch wished she had some muthafucka like Rodrigo ta rap ta mo' often.

---

Alley was right.