Freedom Lane: Call Me Quaitlyn

Da’Quarius came down Freedom Lane with his dog, Dutchie, finishing a long walk around the block. He stopped when Antonio Garcia, his neighbor from across the street, came up to him.

“Hey, Daq,” Antonio said. There was a wide smile on his face. “What’s up?”

“Da fuck you smilin’ at?!” Da’Quaruis asked. “I know you up to somethin’.”

“What?” Antonio said, his smile widening. “I have no idea what… NOW!”

Something went over Daq’s head, and he turned, swinging his fists while his dog barked and started going crazy. “YOU MO’ FUCKER!” he shouted over Dutchie’s barking. “Umma kill yo ass!”

Manny went back by his brother as the laughed hysterically. Da’Quarius took what had been covering his eyes a moment ago and threw it at them. Manny caught it and held it up. “What’s wrong,” he asked. “You don’t like these sexy panties?”

“Da fuck is wrong wit’chu two?!” Da’Quarius snapped. “Those things fuckin’ stink!”

Manny and Anotnio laughed again. “Those are from our latest shoot with big-bushed women,” Antonio said. “They’re on cam all week. You should check them out on GarciaTube tonight!”

“Fuck dat,” Da’Quarius said. “Just a little is OK as long as there’s a place to eat, but I don’t wanna see dem big ass bushes.”

“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Manny said. “You can keep the panties if you want.”

“Fuck dat,” Da’Quarius said, walking past the Garcia brothers. “You guys keep dem smelly granny panties to yo’selves.”

“Suit yourself,” Manny said, stuffing the panties into his pocket. “You know where to find us if you change your mind.”

“Who can we get next?” Antonio asked.

“I don’t know,” Manny said. “I got an idea. Let’s video tape doing it to random people and post it on our site. We have plenty of time before taping our Quaitlyn Gender movie.”

“Fuck yes!” Antonio said. “Get those panties ready, and I’ll get the camera.”


***

Freedom Lane 

Created, written, & directed by Budgerigar Orville Bigelow

Co-created by executive producer BluntSharpness


Season 7, Episode 3: Call Me Quaitlyn 

***

Paulie wiped the counters of Paulie’s Pizza on State Street when Manny and Antonio Garcia walked in. “Paulie’s Pizza!” Manny shouted with a wide smile. “Where’s our boy Tony at?”

“Oh no!” Paulie said, stepping from behind the counter. “Don’t you go getting him involved in any more of your schemes! Last time you guys got in his head, you had hookers all over my joint, and my nephew got the clap!”

“Da’Quarius getting the clap had nothing to do with us!” Antonio said defensively. “He got the clap on his own!”

“Oh!” Tony said, coming from the kitchen, wearing his white tee shirt and torn jeans. “Can I just hear them out and make my own decision. I’m a grown-ass man, Paulie! Besides, I can use a few extra bucks to buy a new car.”

“Madon,” Paulie said, rolling his eyes and walking to his office. “I don’t want to hear about this later when it blows up in your face! In fact, don’t involve me at all. Friggin gagootz.”

“What’s the job?” Tony asked once Paulie was behind the closed office door. “That is why you’re here, right?”

“Sure is,” Manny said.

“We’re desperate,” Antonio said. “Our camera guy had to have his appendix removed, and we have a tranny coming by for a shoot tonight. We need someone to work the camera and maybe do a little fluffing. Can we count on you?”

“No problem,” Tony said. “Trannies don’t bother me one bit. I can be there at nine. Is that OK?”

“Perfect,” Antonio said. “See you then.”

“You want me to bring a pie or two?” Tony asked.

“Fucking right we do!” Manny said.

“Good deal,” Tony said as Antonio and left into the afternoon sun. “Don’t know what they need me fluffing for. Nobody watching those movies even look at the damn pillows.”

***

Da’Quarius came downstairs after doing his homework. He was scratching his head. “What are you doing,” his adoptive mother, Helen, asked. “You need a shower or something?”

“Just took one,” Da’Quarius replied. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. My head itchy as fuck, doe.”

“Damn dog probably gave you fleas,” Helen said. “Come over here, and let me look at you.”

Da’Quarius walked over to Helen. “Rose!” she shouted. “Bring me my magnifying glass out of the drawer in the kitchen. The big one!”

“I don’t have fleas, biddy,” Da’Quarius said. “Probably dry skin or somethin’. You know how brothers be gettin’ all ashy sometimes.”

“Pipe down with that nonsense, kid,” Helen said. “You’re not one of the ashy ones, and you friggin’ know it. I’m just going to check your head.”

Rose came in with the magnifying glass and handed it to Helen. “What do you need this for?” she asked. “Everything OK?”

Helen placed it over Da’Quarius’ head and looked through the rounded glass, closing her left eye. “I’ll tell you in one moment,” she said, concentrating on what she was doing.

“Oh God,” Rose said, backing away a step. “Don’t tell me that Da’Quarius has head lice!”

“I ain’t got lice!” Da’Quarius exclaimed. “I already told you!”

“Hold still!” snapped Helen. She looked more closely. “Kid’s right. He doesn’t have fleas or lice.”

“Oh thank God,” Rose said, putting a hand on her chest.

“Thank you!” Da’Quarius said. “Can I go now?”

“These are crabs,” Helen said.

“Crabs?!” Da’Quarius shouted. “No fuckin’ way I got crabs!”

“What?” Rose asked. “Are you sure?”

“I used to check the girls in prison,” Helen said. “I know the difference between crabs and lice, and the kid’s dreadlocks are infested with the little bastards.”

“Why?” Rose asked.

“I don’t know,” Helen said with a shrug. “Probably because colored people’s hair look like normal people’s pubic hair.”

“Don’t say coloreds,” Rose scolded. “And Da’Quarius is normal. I just want to know how he got crabs to begin with.”

“I bet it was da Garcia mo’ fuckers,” Da’Quarius said. “Manny snuck up on me and put old panties on my head as a joke yesterday. Umma get em’ good! Gonna drop a wasp nest in their house.”

“First things first,” Helen said. “Rose, get a few trash bags and line the bathroom floor. Da’Quarius, get your ass in that bathroom.”

“What for?” Da’Quarius asked.

Helen scowled. “I’m cutting those dreads off and shaving the rest of your head before those little fuckers go south on the lot of us,” she said. “It’s time for some old fashioned crab genocide.”

***

“Where do you want me?” Tony asked, sauntering around the finished basement of the Garcia’s home. There was a small bed in the basement along with a ton of recording equipment and the computers the Garcias used to run their porno site, GarciaTube.

“Who’s this asshole?!” Joey, Manny and Antonio’s boom mic operation asked. He was chubby, always had a rude look on his face, and a backwards cap, hiding a greasy mess of hair.

“This is Tony,” Antonio said. “He’s the dude we told you about yesterday. He’s filling in for now.”

“What’s up?” Tony asked, putting out his hand. “I’m the aforementioned Tony.”

“Fuck you!” Joey snapped, going back to work on his boom equipment. “Fuckin’ new guy. I don’t need this shit.”

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” Tony said under his breath, turning to Manny.

“Alright,” Manny said. “I’ll get the camera set up for you. Why don’t you meet Quaitlyn Gender upstairs. You and her will be close the next couple of nights.”

“Stop calling him a her,” Joey muttered, not looking up from his work. “That’s a damn guy with tits you know.”

“Not this again,” Manny moaned. “She wants to be called a she, so I’m calling her a she.”

“I’m just saying,” Joey said with a shrug. “You’re filming a guy is all. I don’t care how nice his tits are.”

“Look,” Antonio said, getting agitated. “If you don’t want to work and go home without pay, then be my guest. Otherwise, shut the fuck up and mic the damn movie!”

Tony ignored the rest of argument and went upstairs. He found Quaitlyn in a room off the den, wearing a pink robe. She was as tall as Tony, had light-brown hair, and had dark brown eyes. “Hi,” Tony said, extending his hand. “I’m Tony. I guess I’m filming you.”

Quaitlyn looked at Tony with a stunned look in her face. She didn’t speak.

“I know I’m not what you’re expecting,” Tony said. “But I’ve been around the block a few times. I’m not like that guy downstairs. I’m a man, and I know I’m a man. What you are doesn’t bother me one bit, doll. In fact, if you wanna go get a drink after this shoot…”

“Tony!” Quaitlyn said. “You got cheese between your ears or something?! It’s me… Eddie!”

“Eddie?” Tony said, looking over the woman in front of him. “Little Eddie Goombah?! My cousin, Little Eddie Goombah?! No fuckin’ way! You’re a chick now!”

Quaitlyn sighed and sat back down, putting her face in her hand. Antonio came upstairs from the basement. “You ready?” he asked.

“I can’t do this,” she said. “Not tonight.”

“Shit,” Antonio said, rolling his eyes. “That’s a wrap I guess. We’ll try this one more time tomorrow.”

“I still get paid, right?” Tony asked.

***

“Dis some bullshit!” Da’Quarius said, sitting on a stool in the garbage bag-covered bathroom. “You ain’t gotta shave my head!”

“Shut up,” Helen said. She was wearing light blue coveralls with rubber gloves and a thick, plastic shower cap. “How many black kids you see with dreadlocks anyway? You’re not in some sitcom.”

“You didn’t have to get all covered up, doe,” Da’Quarius said. “I think it’s a little racist dat you gotta do dat shit.”

Rose walked in behind Helen, wearing the exact same getup. “What do you need me to do, Helen?” she asked.

“See,” Helen said. “You know it’s serious if Rose goes along with my ideas.”

“Shit,” Da’Quarius said. “Dere go my trademark dreads I guess. Both biddies lookin’ like dey ’bout to clean up some toxic waste.”

“I know you’re upset,” Rose said, “but we have to do this. It’s the only way to know for sure the infestation is out of your hair.”

“Enough talk,” Helen said, pulling a straight razor from her front pocket and opening it. “Let’s get down to business.”

“Fuck,” Da’Quarius said, backing up a bit. “I just thought of something. Don’t dey make shampoo for crabs? Ask Tony! I bet he got crabs like a thousand times!”

“Those things built whole colonies in your dreadlocks,” Helen said, approaching with her razor. “We may not be able to shampoo them out.”

“I think I changed my mind,” Da’Quarius said. “Having crabs ain’t so bad. Put dat razor away!”

“Hold still,” Helen said. “I’m holding a friggin razor for God’s sake!”

“I know!” Da’Quarius said. “Dat’s why I’m backing away from yo half-blind ass!”

“You’ll lose an ear if you don’t stop fidgeting!” Helen snapped, closing in on Da’Quarius. “I’m just going to cut them off and shave your head with a nice lather after. It’ll be nice and easy if you calm your ass down!”

“Be careful,” Rose said, watching nervously with her hands on her mouth.

“You get busy stripping his bed and bagging it all up,” Helen said, not turning to look at Rose. “With luck, we caught them early enough, and I won’t have to do this down there too.”

“Shit,” Da’Quarius said, instinctively grabbing at his crotch. “You best not even try it!”

“OK,” Rose said, leaving the bathroom with one more look over her shoulder.

“Don’t leave me with her!” Da’Quarius pleaded. “Biddy got a crazy look in her eyes, Rose!”

“Crab genocide,” Helen muttered, holding the razor above her head. Da’Quarius tried not to flinch as she brought it down toward his head.

***

Tony walked through the Garcia’s house, looking for Quaitlyn. He had beaten himself up over last night’s interaction with her, and he had to practically beg Antonio to let him back in to shoot. “Fine,” Antonio finally said. “It’s either you or my brother, and he can’t line up a shot for shit.”

“Yo,” Tony said, finding the room where Quaitlyn was getting reading in her pink robe and slippers. “Can I come in?”

“You used to baby sit me,” Quaitlyn said. “Of course you can come in.”

“I’m sorry I was such a bone head last night,” Tony said. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I’m cool to shoot the movie tonight.”

“Tony!” Quaitlyn said. “You really want to film me doing this?!”

“Sure,” Tony said with a shrug. “Why not?”

Quaitlyn looked at Tony’s face, trying to figure out if he was serious or not. Finally, she started laughing. “I forget what a stunad you can be,” she said. “But at least your a sincere stunad. If you’re fine seeing your tranny cousin on film, then I’m fine doing it.”

“Why would it be a problem?” Tony asked. “I’ve been nailing Claudette on and off for years.”

“Claudette?!” Quaitlyn exclaimed. “Your own cousin, Tony? God!”

“What?” Tony said, shrugging again. “She’s hot for me!”

Quaitlyn lauged again.

“Let me ask you something,” Tony said. “Why did you name yourself after that loser, Bruce Gender? You know he just transgendered himself to get away with literally killing someone, right?”

“It’s only for this film,” Quaitlyn said. “I’ll be going by Donna Trump after.”

Tony laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s much better.”

“You guys ready?” Manny asked, coming into the room.

“Ready,” Quaitlyn said. “As long as your still OK with this, Tony.”

“Sure, babe,” Tony said. “You need your pillows fluffed too or what? These guys are paying me to be a fluffer too, you know.”

Quaitlyn stared at Tony for another ten seconds or so before slapping him. “Go get your camera ready, you big idiot.”

***

Da’Quarius sat on his porch, waiting for the school bus to pick him up. He was ready to be chastised at school for his haircut by his classmates, but Rose convinced him that it wouldn’t last too long. Helen had chopped every dread off one by one, lathered his scalp with shaving cream, and shaved him cleanly bald. His head still stung a bit under his Vagabond Saints hat.

“Daq!” Esmerelda Perez de la Hoya said, walking past his house as she went to her bus stop that would take her to the public school. She was Daq’s friend and adoptive (almost) daughter of Helen’s mortal enemy Harold Fuchs and his husband Lee. “What are d’jou doing?”

“Came out early,” Da’Quarius said. “Waitin’ fo’ my bus.”

“You look grumpy,” Esmerelda said. “What’s wrong?”

Da’Quarius sighed and pulled his hat off, showing Esmerelda his shaved head. “I got my dome cleaned,” he said. “Helen went psycho on me with a razor an’ cut off my dreads.”

“Wow,” Esmerelda said, looking it over. “I can see my reflection.”

“Ha ha,” Da’Quarius said sarcastically, putting his hat back on. “I look like a damn baby now.”

“It’s not so bad,” Esmerelda said. “I think you look cute bald. Like a mini NBA player.”

“More like black Mr. Clean,” Da’Quarius said. “Dat’s what dey gonna call me.”

“Well what’s black Mr. Clean do that white Mr. Clean doesn’t?” Esmerelda asked.

“I dunno,” Da’Quarius said with a shrug. “Bang da housewives instead of cleanin’ up all da messes dey make probably.”

“There d’jou go,” Esmerelda said, smiling. “Bang the housewives while white Mr. Clean cleans the house like a little puta.”

Da’Quarius laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “Dis ain’t so bad.”

“Let me see it one more time,” Esmerelda said. “I wanna touch it.”

Da’Quarius took his hat off again, and Esmerelda ran her hand over the top. “Damn,” she said. “That’s smooth as fuck.”

***

Tony walked through Walgreens. He saw Manny Garcia down one of the aisles. “Hey, Manny,” Tony said with a quick nod. “How’d that movie with my cousin come out?”

“Terrible,” Manny said. “You can’t film for shit. We can’t use any of it. My brother’s fuckin pissed. Stay away from him for a while, by the way. He takes business way serious.”

“Sorry, bro,” Tony said. “Hey. What are you buying? Crab shampoo?”

“Keep it down,” Manny said, looking around. “Got a nasty case of the little fuckers after me and my brother nailed some big bushed chick.”

“That sucks,” Tony said. “So Antonio got ’em too?”

“It’s not a problem for him,” Manny replied. “He gets his junk and balls waxed. Little bugs wash right off of him. He’s always been the smart one like that. I just don’t know what to do. Amazing as it sounds, I’ve never had crabs before!”

“Well put that store brand junk back,” Tony said, taking the box Wal-Crab from Manny and tossing it on the shelf. “I like to use Crab-B-Gone, but it turned my short hairs purple once. I used Anti-Crab the last time, because it comes with a cool applicator glove. You can use it for anything! The active ingredients are the same, but the percentages are different.”

“How many times have you caught crabs?” Manny asked.

“Enough,” Tony said. “Look, get the Crab-B-Gone. It kills ’em fast, and the purple will wash out of your pubes after four showers or so if it even happens. Don’t let the goofy cartoon crab on the box fool you, that shit is the best.”

“Thanks,” Manny said, putting the box of Crab-B-Gone in his little basket. “What did you come in here for anyway?”

“Same thing,” Tony said, grabbing his own box of Crab-B-Gone. “Cheers.”

A large, middle-aged man with a large beard came walking down the aisle next, scratching at his chin. “Hey,” he said, spotting Manny in front of the crab shampoo. “Your one of the assholes that put the panties on my head, filmed it, and gave my beard crabs!”

“Oh shit,” Manny said, dropping his basket. “Run!”


The End

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