Blood Money Bitchez 2 by Myster Solomon

Author:Myster Solomon [Solomon, Myster]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: United States, Urban, Urban Life, African American, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Amazon: B00ICPW93Q
Publisher: Sullivan Productions, LLC
Published: 2014-02-09T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

1993 Framingham State Prison

Karate Pam was up before sunrise. She started her day meditating in the Indian position and then she began to practice her martial arts skills, doing kicks, blocks, and hand-to-hand combat, as well as full splits and Russian splits. She had two razors in her mouth that she was spitting out in midair, catching with her hands, and doing slice movements.

Karate Pam’s cellmate watched her with timid eyes as she trained diligently in their 8ft by 11ft cell; she had to admit that Karate Pam was one fighting motherfucker.

After the prison completed it’s 6:55am count, Karate Pam took a birdbath at the cell’s portable sink/toilet, washing away the sweat she’d worked up from her intense martial arts workout. She brushed her teeth with the state toothbrush and toothpaste that she’d received with her bedroll. She couldn’t wait until canteen to get right and thought it was stupid that they couldn’t bring their cosmetics with them. They were only allowed to bring the clothes on their backs, legal work, and their personal correspondence, such as photos and letters that they’d received by mail. Karate Pam was thinking of strong-arming her cellmate for her shit; but after the ass-kicking she’d already given her, she decided that she was going to ease up on her.

The opening of the cell doors on the second tier and steady fast-paced movement of feet coming down the stairway distracted Karate Pam. She studied Niecy, Sam, and the six Smurfettes members; they walked as if they owned C-Block. Karate Pam quickly became annoyed by their arrogance.

“Fuckin’ coward ass duck bitches, they really don’t want it, but I’ma set fire to these corny ass coward bitches,” Karate Pam said out loud with her fists balled up tightly. She walked over to her cellmate’s locker and began to fish through it without permission. She came out with three cans of tuna.

“I owe you three cans of tuna,” she said as she stuffed the cans into long ass state socks to make a serious head splitter.

“On dawgs my niggas better be suited,” Karate Pam said as she waited for her cell door to swing open.

“Chow!” A raspy voice said over the P.A. system and the twenty five cells doors on the first tier swung open. Karate Pam smiled when she saw her home girls; she knew they were suited and ready to set this bitch on fire.

The three Blood Money Bitchez waited until the block emptied out before they headed to the chow hall. Scraping of metal against steel could be heard as the crowd of inmates was heading to the Chow hall, which was vivid and full of energy with loud talking. The inmates were speaking both Spanish and English so loudly that it appeared they were having a shouting match. It was egg day and, just like pancake day, the cells emptied out and the inmates rushed to the chow hall to get the prison favorite; it was really first come first served because sometimes the prison ran out of the favorite meal and started serving cold cereal, cornflakes.

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