It was over 100 degrees again today in Los Angeles, where the mere the thought of going outside caused you to sweat. It was so hot that it was inhumane to even work outside. So, Chuck and I decided to chill out at a friends pad to get out of the heat.
“I love these low-calorie health bars,” Chuck says to me while unwrapping another energy bar.
“How many of those have you had?” Playing Call of Duty with my headset on. “BigDick90 I need you to secure the package, also watch out for snipers.”
“I’ve had like four, I’m going to lose weight in no time,” finishing another one.
“BigDaddy, I need you to throw a grenade in the building to clear out our path. BigDick watch our back while we go in.”
“I’m going to look great in my neon thong,” as Charles check outs his figure in the mirror.
“There’s our package, everybody get your head on swivel and go get it!” Screaming in my headset. “You know Chuck if you have too many of those you won’t lose weight because you’re still piling up the calories.”
“What?” Chuck grabs his gut looking confused.
“Fuck I’m dead. Damn it, BigDick! I told you to watch out for the snipers,” as I get a text for a tip. “We gotta go, I just a text for Brad Pitt.”
We leave our comfortable, air-conditioned friend’s pad into the sweltering heat, getting into my truck driving towards the tip.
“Fuck it’s hot out here,” driving on a heavily congested Santa Monica Blvd during lunch hour traffic.
“My balls are sweating so much, it’s a swamp down there,” Chuck tells me adjusting himself in the seat. “Where’s this fool at anyway?”
“He’s at a photo studio I think promoting his latest gig. Hopefully, we make it in time to shoot him,” as a carefully navigate in traffic.
We get to the spot, preparing ourselves but still staying in the car because we don’t want to get noticed because he’s not our biggest fan. I tell Chuck that he’s probably in his custom motorcycle. We both stay focus on the studio, where he was supposed to be in as the sun starts to beat on us.
“I knew I should have put baby powder on my balls today,” Chuck tells me wiping the sweat off his face.
“What does that do?”
“It picks up all the sweat from your balls and asshole.”
“But how do you explain to your girlfriend about your powdered white-black dick. What do you say, you were fucking some powdered donuts?”
“Fuck, I’m hungry,” Chuck says to me grabbing his junk.
As we both are starting to lose hope, in the corner of my eye I see Brad down the street in his custom bike pulling out the driveway.
We’ve made a mistake on the location.
I start-up my truck trying to catch up to him but the traffic was horrendous as I weave in and out of traffic. I thought to myself we’re not going to catch up to him in my truck especially with this traffic. So, I tell Chuck to get ready to get out to shoot him when he stops a red light. But Chuck is a bit apprehensive about his athletic skill.
“Bro, you can do it,” telling Chuck making sure we don’t crash into cars.
“Motherfucker an hour ago you are calling me fat ass,” as Chuck makes sure he has the correct settings on the camera.
We manage to catch up to him on a busy street, but he easily gets away from us with the help of his bike. But he gets stuck behind a big rig with a red light ahead of it. I turn to Chuck,
“Its time. Go get it!”
Chuck quickly jumps out of the truck, stumbling bit but regains his steps as he rumbles down the street looking like an NFL fullback. He looked a bit uncomfortable and awkward running as I begin to laugh in the truck. I lose visual on him for a bit then I see his bald black head pop up right on Brad beginning to blast him with his camera. In the car it kinda looked like Mr. Jolie was okay with it or maybe he was just so intrigued about this strange big black man sweating profusely in front of him shooting him with a camera.
The light turns green as Brad makes his getaway while I pull up to pick up Chuck. I turn the corner but he was already gone in the chaos of L.A. traffic. I pulled over checking on Chuck’s photos, which in my amazement he got him well, congratulating him a good job done.
“See bro, I knew you can do it,” handing back the camera to Chuck. “Let me buy you another low-fat energy bar.”
“Fuck that, let’s go to Korean BBQ. Stop at Rite Aid first so, I can pick up some Baby Powder for my balls,” Chuck tells me huffing and puffing on his sweat covered t-shirt. I agree as we head to grab an unhealthy lunch still stuck in traffic feeling like victorious men with powdered sweaty balls.
Buy it on Amazon.com