Hustle & Fly: The Story Of Pasquale The Pigeon Pimp.

Bitches ain’t shit but hoes & breadsticks. That is on the real, mother fuckers; I’ve been pigeon pimping since a nigga’s feathers turned red. Shit…while all these other herb birds are hanging in the park shitting on statues I’m flying to the back alley behind Nino’s pizzeria on St. Marks.

It’s dem breadsticks’ yo, my pigeon bitches is hooked on that shit; these hoes be strung out on these garlic rolls–foe show. I protect these pigeon-heads & make sure we all getting fed.

All these other pussy ass pigeons living on front street know not to come here & start shit. I’m mother fucking strapped with a 12 cm beak. My hoes know I’ll peck a nigga’s eyes out whose fronting. First they pay and then they get that pigeon-pus-say! And business is booming & blowing up; this pimp game is filling up a nigga’s belly, shiiiitte, with all these park pigeons with no game and light feathers, they all bringing us Korzo Burger left overs to get feather deep in my pretty peeps–I’m ballin; the more food they bring the more my hoes will ruffle their feathers yo. These hoes go crazy for them Dream Balls that cracker ass chef Steven makes. Mother fucker is an artist; straight up Niño Brown of hamburgers.

But yo, on the real, it wasn’t always like this; back in the day when I was a lil baby bird nigga there was no need for pimping, slanging, & hoeing we’d all just chill at Tompkins Square Park and that cracker ass Steven would just throw his left overs out in the park and we could all get our fair share; pimpadelic pigeons like me would just get all that pussy cause I got that big beak. Shit was dope. To drop some knowledge-it was Darwinian order yo. But that shit all changed when Marquis De Hawk moved up to Tompkins square Park…shit was never the same when we saw that Deebo sized nigga fly in & perch up them Tompkins Square trees. For real, yo, a hawk; a straight up gangsta hawk; on his first day that nigga ate 3 pigeons & a squirrel. It was like Omer from The Wire, yo, no pigeon felt safe. We had to start running in packs and the food supply went down.

This crusty grey back named Jamal moved in on Korzo and set up shop with some pretty feather bitches and me, I did Nino’s. I got a bunch a little baby bird soldiers to match Jamal’s to spread the word that I got those bright feather bitches. Still, I gotta watch these little pawn nigga pigeons cause I know they want my crown.

Shit, on the real, why I’m telling you all this is cuz I want out of the game. For real. The pussy, the Dream Balls, and even the power–it’s got no end. I’ve seen The Wire; there ain’t no niggaz like Marlo, in the end we all just Stringer Bells. I’m gonna get pecked to death by my hoes or by that busta ass nigga Jamal. I put a hit on him but the bird hit the wall & Jamal tortured & then killed him. I know he is waiting to beak me to death.

I was convinced that was my fate but then I met this fly ass piece of pigeon pussy. This pigeon was banging, yo. I thought she was slumming for some pizza; I’m talking quality upper west side type of bitch. On the real, I caught the vapors and started chirping (I never chirped once for a bitch, never had to cuz I got that big beak) singing pretty Rihanna type shit. She came over and I was ready to tap it but she gave me a dirty look and said, “I am not that type of pigeon & I am spoken for. My boyfriend Carlton & I are in court phase.”

“Then why you up in a niggaz face if you ain’t gonna let me ruffle them feathers yo.”

“You are disgusting & rude; I have a name it’s Dominique. I shouldn’t even tell you why I am here, but your ‘friend’ Ronnie quit our singing group on the upper west side and recommended you as a replacement. I promised him I would check you out. We are having try outs in a month, to renew our lease…You will need back up singers. Maybe your ‘lady bird friends’ can help you.

Some herb bird flew up with a huge dream ball in his mouth, dropped it, and said, “Damn yo, she extra fine. I’ll give you the whole ball if I can hit that.”

The fine ass upper west side honey rolled her eyes and said, “Gross. Think about it Pasquale. You have something special, Ronnie was at least right about that.”

She flew away and I pecked this herb bird in his grill and said, “Get the fuck out of here!”

He flew too and I was left with my bitches, his Dream Ball, and my thoughts.

Ronnie was my boy; we go back and shit, he let a lil nigga crash by his tree after my moms died. That fool said I chirped in my sleep and it was all pretty & shit; I thought that nigga was playing, but he was on the real-word is bond.

As my top 3 hoes started eating the Dream Ball & I looked out from the alley and that Deebo mother fucker Marquis De Hawk was looking my way. And I knew that this was it; this was my chance to get out of the ghetto. I had to take it.

I turned back to my hoes and said, “Bitches stop eating. All 3 of you…Alright hoes, you ain’t gonna be tricking no more.”

The bitches looked shocked but they listened so I didn’t have to raise my pimp wing and continued, “I want out of this game; I want the good life. I want that upper west side life. I can chirp. I didn’t even know it; but I can spit this poetic pretty shit. You gonna be my back up bitches. We gonna do this shit.”

Chantel my number one hoe gave me the last bite. I chewed down & finished the Dream Ball; then told her and the other two hoes, “Practice starts now. We got new Dream Balls to chew down on. The ones that will take us out of the ghetto.”

This chirping shit was hard at first and my pimp wing was used many times but after a few weeks I turned these hoes into respectable chirpers.

When the day came for the try outs; I saw Marquis De Hawk eating some little Squirrel and we flew the coup. It took a good hour but we made our way to the Upper West Side. It was by some little cafe where they had bomb ass bread sticks, the shit smelled clean–that Organic shit, yo, you only find on the upper west side.

I saw Dominique perched next to some herb bird and I chirped and then my bitches followed. I could see the humans impressed as they threw dope ass food at us to eat. Dominique looked happy but that herb bird next to her was all smug and shit and said, “He is good enough to be my understudy Dominique, I am still the lead.”

“I agree. I am very proud of you Carlton. Your have progressed with your Jealousy issues.”

This smug ass nigga Carlton smirked at me and said, “I am not concerned about this little hood rat.”

“Nigga please. We all know you Sanchez and I’m Tebow. You gonna be replaced by me.”

Carlton rolled his beady pigeon eyes and says, “I don’t know if he is right for the group. I think we can have better understudy.”

Dominique looked at me and I begged her with my eyes to give me a chance, “Carlton, let’s let them stay here for tonight. He can try again tomorrow & then we can do our duet.”

We camped out on the upper west side but I knew I had to handle this Carlton shit; I had the knowledge that Dominique was making him wait to hit it and his little blue balls were probably about to burst.

I told my hoes what to do–they pros, foe so.

I then found Dominique practicing solo and said I needed a private word with her. I took her aside and said “Look, I know you think I’m just some hood nigga, but I appreciate what you are doing for me. But On the real, I gotta tell you I don’t trust Carlton. I think he ain’t what he seems.”

“Pasquale stop assassinating Carlton’s character he’s a great pigeon. I think you are jealous.”

“Maybe, yo, but I saw him looking at my hoes. The way many man pigeons do–I’m just saying yo, be careful.”

I saw her look worried; she looked so fine with her feathers all ruffled and said, “Fine. Let’s go check on Carlton and see he is resting up for tomorrow.”

We flew over and that nigga was having a threesome with my top 2 hoes. My number one was tossing his little bird salad, while he was tearing the other one up pigeonstyle–it felt too good for him stop.

Dominique shed a little bird tear and screamed, “All of you out. All of you. I will perform with Pasquale. Carlton, you have broken my heart.”

He looked upset but my hoes fuck so good he couldn’t stop and I said, “When you bitches are done. Take him back to the ghetto; y’all work for Carlton now. I’m quitting the game for good.”

Dominique flew away and I followed her fine ass all the way to Central Park. Never seen it before it; it was ballin. She landed in some big ass tree and I saw her sad eyes in the moonlight-the bitch looked beautiful. In that moment I knew I was gonna marry her ass and then fuck her Akon-style in this park–word is bond.

“What’s up girl. You sad and shit?”

“Yes Pasquale. Of course I am.”

“Fuck that nigga.”

“I never did. I was waiting to be married. I want marriage and Carlton I guess didn’t.”

I looked at her said, “Look, yo, I never chirped for nobody til I saw you Dominique. I thought love was some pussy ass nigga bullshit but that thinking that was the bullshit…”I then got down on one leg and asked, “Dominique, after we win the competition tomorrow and we are ballin, will you let me do you proper and marry me up in this park. You the one, girl. For real.”

“Are you ready to change Pasquale and be a good man to me?”

“Word is bond, yeah, I’m ready. I got love for you. On are wedding day, I am going to tell you something my ma asked me before she died. I couldn’t answer the question but now I can yo because of you.”

She let out another little tear, smiled, and said, “I feel it too you; I felt it when you first chirped. I will mate with you and be your wife.”

“Word.”

We slept in the tree, feather to feather; it was the bomb-shit felt so good yo. We woke up in the morning, practiced our routine, and then went to the cafe ready to win this mother fucker.

All the other pigeons were there and we knew if we sang the best we could have bomb ass breadsticks for life. I looked at my fiance, she looked so good, so I started chirping; we did a duet of Marvin Gaye’s & Tammi Terrell’s ‘You Are All I Need to Get By’ and we fucking killed it. We made it rain breadsticks.

We won. We owned it. We now had a spot to eat and we had a home–that tree we slept in. I made it out of the ghetto and was ready to be a good man to Dominique. Life was dope, can’t even a front, a nigga felt happy for the first time ever in his life.

We had our wedding day at the park; my hoes even showed up with Carlton, that herb bird almost looked as happy as me–I could see the pimp game suited him. Dominique looked super-fine, she even had her little sister Tamika there; she was a good girl–I felt ready to be family man and take care of my ladies… not hoes; out of love and respect for Dominique I stopped saying bitch, nigga, and hoes. Love can change man–word is bond.

We said our vows and I went to grab the ringworm from Tamika to give to Dominique when I looked up and saw that crusty grey back Jamal flying at me and Tamika. That fool calculated wrong and was gonna hit Tamika. I saw the fear of Dominique of losing her sister and I jumped into front & took a beak right in the chest–a damn beak-bye, on my wedding day.

As Jamal flew away, he screamed, “Now we even nigga, you stupid if you think you can’t escape the ghetto shit you did.”

Then he was gone; I saw Tamika was alright but I felt the pain–he got me good. Dominique came to me and I could see in her eyes she knew I was going to die. I hated seeing her like this and I told my beautiful wife, “It’ll be a’ight. You’ll be fine. I’m gonna be ok.”

She cried and rubbed her feathers against mine and said, “Just breathe baby it’ll be ok. He didn’t get you that…”

She couldn’t finish the line, she knew it was lie; we didn’t have much time and then she said, “Pasquale, I love you…please tell me…what was the question, you can now answer that your mom asked you.”

I could feel my heart slowing down and a tear falling out for the first time ever in my life and told her, “My moms asked me if whether if I wanted to live or die…I now know I want to live, but my love, it’s too late…”

1 Comments ↓

One Comment on “Hustle & Fly: The Story Of Pasquale The Pigeon Pimp.”

  1. Amanda June 21, 2012 at 3:29 am #

    I read several of your posts and loved them so very much.You have an amazing way with words in many of the previous posts. I actually like the story of Pasquale I wish it could have been told without the over use of deragatory language.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: