Girl Bye (Part III) “Betrayal”

“They probably think I’m dead”, DJ thought to himself. 

Lord knows he was close to dead. He hadn’t eaten in days. It was freezing. There he was abandoned and alone on the side of the parkway.


“Aniya probably thinks I’m dead. Dumb ass. You have to do more than stab me to kill me.”

The truth was, she did do more than that! She lunged towards him like a panther and she bit his neck. When he pried her off of him, she grabbed a Heineken bottle and broke it. She then thrusted it into his back.  When he fell to the floor she sealed the deal by hitting him in the head with a table lamp. She then dumped him in the trunk of the same automobile he tried to downplay.

Next thing he knew, he was in the damn bushes shivering and bleeding. 

In his opinion she overreacted.  Typical angry black woman.  She asked one question and didn’t wait for the answer.  She seemingly wasn’t angry about his sexual indiscretions. She just kept menacingly looking at him and screaming crap about betrayal. 

He knew one day it would come to this. He wanted to get caught.  The marriage wasn’t what he thought it would be. Those women sliding up and down the metal poles and the human poles were so enticing.  These were the women in videos, turning heads on beaches,  adorned in brands and labels and oils. The women at “Biddies” were top quality.  They looked like stallions.  The club was laced in European hair and high round backsides. Perfume and exotic lubricants lingered in the air. It was a “classy club.” When he found Aniya in his office working out her “issues”, it was a sign. He was an admirer of hers for years.  He was one of the guidance counselors in the high school she attended but how different he looked then. He wasn’t sexy then. Besides,  sleeping with a student was taboo and illegal but mostly taboo. 

Aniya was his meal ticket.  He was tired of superiors breathing down his neck. He started a manuscript.  Encapsulated in it’s pages were Aniya’s confidential and interesting life. The men she slept with. The deals she made. The secrets she only told him. The inner workings of that put*$ y paradise men escaped to. He had a book deal all set up and a guarantee with a billion dollar publisher. He knew it would sell. The climax was just so good. Most importantly he knew she would do almost anything to ensure aliases were used.

He didn’t think she would try to kill him. Then again,  if you changed your identity to run away from your past…

If your past was still looking for you…

If you had everything to lose…

DJ rose to his feet. His body was so numb he didn’t even realize what he was dressed in. He lifted the large corduroy dress and began to limp to the service road. Cars honked their horns as they passed by laughing. Etched deliberately in the back of the vintage Bear bright yellow bubble jacket was the word “Trifling.”

He would sort things out at the hospital and he would surprise his wife with a phone call.

By:Shaun Nickens
**Day 9 of the 30 day writing challenge.  Comment. Like. Share.

Girl Bye ( Part II)

Courtesy of abc news

Aniya danced around her studio apartment in bare feet. She had on her high school track shorts and her bra.  Those shorts were indestructible.  They didn’t quite fit the way they did so many years ago but they “fit.”  She was blasting “Bust the Windows” by Jasmine Sullivan.  The place was spotless.  She cleaned every nook and cranny of the apartment.  It smelled of Ammonia and Febreeze. She loved candles that had water scents like “ocean breeze” or “morning mist.” The candles were strategically placed. She was an old school girl but she had to admit she liked the gritty 90’s Mary J feel of Jasmine Sullivan’s music. A strong voice and beautiful melodies to overshadow really harsh lyrics.

“Yeah I did it/you should know it/I ain’t sorry/you deserved it/After what you did to me it was worth it/I ain’t sorry nooo oooooooo…”

Yea, Jasmine was cut from the same cloth as Aniya. Or she was just an artist who made music for women who made some tough choices.  Reckless and heartless women. Yea, those women need a good song too.

Aniya recently became more than a wife and a exotic dancer.  She had to make DJ pay for the pain and embarrassment.  Sloppy pathetic loser leaving all his mistakes under the bed they lie in every night as a couple.  He was an unbelievable idiot to think she wouldn’t find out. She confiscated everything and she “unofficially divorced” DJ and moved out. She told her friends and loved ones (he didn’t have any loved ones) he was on a business conference in Segal. Who would question that? No one is going to buy a calling card to talk to him in Ecuador!  He wasn’t that important.  It was funny how quickly her emotions dissipated.  As soon as she saw the betrayal,  it was enough to essentially make him disappear. 

For now she was enjoying her new found freedom.  She had 20 minutes before she had to get ready for work.  “Biddies” was 27 minutes away exactly.  She decided to play her song one more time and decide how she would use her talents on the pole to make her “problem” go away. She had a special client of hers who would definitely be interested in the task.

“May God forgive me”, she muttered to herself. 

The song faded while she dove into the company of her conscience.

“You caused me pain/so I did the same…”

~To be continued~

By: Shaun Nickens

*Day 7 of the 30 day writing challenge!


I just want a piece of the pie
I just want to HOLD the silver spoon
Enemy tread lightly
I am tenderness. The core that generates new life
The snake approaches my former self and finds itself headless in the laps of those who live to humiliate it.
I am dissapointed in anything I produce that is less than fantastic.
I am chunky. . .
Some things jiggle
But its cool if you like your women all life-like and “real.”
I have a billion thoughts in my head
Sometimes they climb all up on top of one another
One will jump on the others back
Or put another in a choke hold
Or smother another with a big dirty pillow with feathers coming out of it.
Sometimes they all try to chill together and mingle in harmony
But these thoughts are so different and so boisterous that they end up looking
like a reality tv show reunion,
Polished and positively dysfunctional.

By:Shaun Nickens

*Day 6 of the 30 day writing challenge!  God bless! 

Beauty for Beauty

I wrote a piece entitled “Saints and Poets” about 3 months ago. It was deleted accidentally and I was heartbroken. I never had the courage, patience, or frankly…the balls to re-create it. The feelings and emotions that intercourse to breed the content of “Saints and Poets” sparked once again and came up with a really cool scene. It is in no way as good as the original but it was fun to write.

“I am one who tells the truth and exposes evil and seeks with Beauty for Beauty to set the world right.”
~ W.E.B Dubois

EMILY: “Does anyone ever realize life while they live it…every, every minute?”

STAGE MANAGER: “No. Saints and poets maybe…they do some.”
― Thornton Wilder, Our Town
Now the two, stood naked in a corner holding one another. They were an unlikely pair…

It was so dark. It was so cold. It was excruciating. You could smell the impending death. They were coming. You could hear their breaths. You could see their green eyes in your nightmares. You couldn’t hear their hearts beat.

Although the sound was faint, he knew it was there. Tom knew their hearts could still beat. He knew they could still feel.
Tom was a faithful person. He never stole anything, not even a pen. He was the type a guy to always leave a penny in the “take one leave one” tray at the 7-11. He would leave his change in the vending machine so he could surprise the next person. He never forgot a birthday. He never forgot an anniversary. In fact, he would forget his OWN birthday! He just loved people but more importantly, he believed in the goodness of the human heart. Tom was small framed, balding, and he kept his wardrobe impeccably simple. He had 7 different button down shirts, 3 polo’s, 2 t-shirts for the summer and 4 pairs of khaki pants. He did his laundry every Friday at the Laundromat in his apartment building. His sock drawer had dividers to keep everything separated and organized. He kept bleach under the kitchen sink to keep his socks white. He budgeted $5 per paycheck, in case one of the items in his “wardrobe” needed to be replaced. Tom didn’t have many friends but the friends he did have called him a Saint.

Samaria was what her dad called a “rebel without a cause.” If you said the sky was blue, she said it was magenta. She saw colors where there was only black and white. She described grey like a rainbow. She was tormented by life and impaired by her imagination. If you paid a penny for her thoughts, you would wait for a refund. It would never be because her thoughts weren’t intricate and unique. It would be because they were too heavy for the average person to carry away from the conversation. Samaria was a dreamer and she counted blessings not sheep. Samaria was a fighter and she would battle 300 warriors in the blistering cold to defend the honor of someone she loved. The dwelling in her heart had multiple vacancies. There was always an invitation to be warm there. Samaria was a poet.

Now the two, stood naked in a corner holding one another. They were an unlikely pair…

-To Be Continued-

-Shaun Nickens

***Day 5 of the 30 day writing challenge. Thank you to my new followers, I smile every time I get an alert. Keep the comments coming. Leave your feedback @shutyamouthnow on Twitter. Happy New Year!


I could be real sentimental and cheesy but I just want to say Happy New Year to the Shutyamouthandcallmeugly family.  May God bless you and yours. Thank you for listening to my ranting and raving and reading the spawn of my thoughts. May we grow together in creative genius. Its dangerous when your passion becomes a playmate instead of your purpose. May we focus on tomorrow and thank the creator for surviving yesterday.

Day 4 of the writing challenge.  Follow me @shutyamouthnow with your resolutions.