Calling the Cops

Last night, on my way home from my parents, three big, busty Latin women got on the 2 train I was riding for the first portion of my trip. They were dressed all in black, revealing too much of their excess skin, obviously on their way back from a party, judging from their faded, runny makeup. Their loud, ghetto voices filled the car before they had even set foot inside…

“He better not do that sh*t to me! Ma kids & mutha are there!” – BBLW #1

“You need to call the cops on his a$$!” – BBLW #2

“I’m gonna call the cops on him!” – BBLW #1

“Yeah, you always say that but you never do. You need to call the cops & do it for real!” – BBLW #3

“I’m gonna call them! My babies & my mutha are there! He can’t do that in front of them. They got nowheres to go!” – BBLW #1

“I’ll go with you.” – BBLW #3

“I’ll go with you too.” – BBLW #2

“I’m gonna grab my stuff & take my kids & moms outta there!” – BBLW #1

“We’ll help you carry stuff out.” – BBLW #3

“I ain’t dressed for a move or a fight, but I gotta small sweater & I’ll take off my earrings, just in case.” – BBLW #2, who for her size had small chest, but was wearing a top so low-cut her sagging little boobs were almost drooping out of it.

“I’m gonna call the cops on his a$$!” – BBLW #1

That was the last part of the conversation before they got off the train, their voices trailing after them. I bet she didn’t call the cops though. She probably just made a big scene with her friends squawking behind her.

Feel free to post comments or share common experiences, whether in NYC or elsewhere.

~Izzy

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