Nigeria snarled and rained punching on his exposed face. He turned from left to right, dropping his head to avoid the punches but they kept on coming. She didn’t stop until she was exhausted and his face was bleeding. Fist speckled with blood, she rose up and headed up the staircase, talking more s**t than a little nigga with a Napoleon complex. She returned shortly, still naked, but this time toting his.38 revolver. She stood off to the side of Kreon and pointed the revolver down at his meat.
“I’ma blow dat mothafucka off if ya don’t act right, ya hear me?” she barked, spittle jumping from her lips. “We’ll see if ya little gurl fren wants ya with dat handicap!”
Kreon groaned in pain as he slowly came around. Turning his head to the left, he saw a blurred version of who he knew was Niger
