Anyway, they made it to the hideout spot, which was some old hunting cabin in the woods. All it got was a outhouse to shit in and some buckets to bathe in. Rico turned his frown on like a spotlight about that.
“Where is this cabin, the nineteenth century? Shit, nigga!” Rico stamped his foot, furrowing his handsome forehead at the buckets like they might turn into a shower somehow. He phoned out to see if he got a app that could build, deliver and install plumbing before his next poop.
But there ain’t no such app. Not everything’s a phone yet! Plumbers still out there making bank, y’all!
Rico’s phone ran outta bars, so he couldn’t even use it. He tried to charge it with his frowns, but that ain’t fix it. Then he hand-delivered a frown to the dust, the cracked windows, the spiderwebs, the buckets, the front door, the back door and the fireplace. He delivered his best frowns to Thumper though.
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MN Manmacker's mansploitation