Dog Pound Page #4

poetry is really the only way

I can truly express myself.

Can I read it to you?

"She's a caretaker,

"but there's no one

to take care of her.

"She listens to others

"to avoid listening to her. "

That part doesn't rhyme.

It's just an early draft, though.

"In a world surrounded by men,

I am her only admirer.

"The clock is ticking,

she's getting older,

"but still no rock on the finger-"

Max, I get the point.

I got a lot of work here.

I think you should go.

Miss Biggs,

I am seriously offended here.

I don't know if you know this,

but when it comes to creativity,

a subject us artists

are particularly sensitive to,

I'd really appreciate it

if you didn't interrupt me again.

Fine.

"I dream she's...

"lying naked on fur,

glistening crotch

tickled by her pinkie finger. "

Enough Max!

Get out of here now!

You don't get it.

You crossed the line big time.

Get out now.

Since one of us

doesn't see the value in art,

there won't be a next time.

You probably thought

I was alluding to you in that poem.

Uh, I wasn't,

so sorry to disappoint.

And have a good day.

Davis.

You know, man,

when you first come here and sh*t,

boys thought you was a b*tch.

At least you ain't rat

on nobody, man.

So, you know, we're all straight?

- Cool.

- Everything's all right, man.

Thanks, man.

What the f*** is it

you've got on going down there?

Pissin' sweat out your armpits, man!

Yeah, man, I need to change

my shirt or some sh*t.

What the f***'s wrong

with you, man?

Why you always walking 'round here

all worried and sh*t, man?

You ain't gotta be scared.

You scared?

- No, man. I'm not scared.

- You ain't got no reason to be scared.

You know what I mean, player?

- Yeah.

- Everything's all good.

Hustlers ain't scared of sh*t.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

- You is a hustler, right?

- Yeah.

What you hustlin'?

So you hustlin' some weed and sh*t?

No, man. Pills and coke.

- You hustle that "yay"?

- Yeah.

Movin' that "yayo"?

You like that raw sh*t?

- Yeah.

- You like that sh*t?

Mm-hmm.

Yeah, so, uh, what if I had

some of that raw sh*t, man?

You want a bump?

What, you have some of that?

Yo, Loony.

Get that white sh*t out

for the pretty boy, man.

He wanna get f***ed up.

All right. See you later.

Hey, what the f***

you doing in here?

We're doing some big-man business.

Get the f*** out of here!

Nice throw, you f***ing f*ggot!

I'm gonna cut you up right now, b*tch,

and all your little b*tches

are gonna see.

- Are you shitting me, Sal?

- Yo, f*** you!

Suck on my nuts, mutt!

You got that white sh*t

for me Loony?

Cut you a six, man.

Don't even worry about it.

It's all straight.

Get that into you, man.

That's some good.

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