Puffin Books was in downtown Birmingham, in a building that was a refrigerator warehouse back before.
From Thumper on Parole
Author: MNManmacker
Bill Wortham
Bill is a social worker.
Descriptions
“That stall blond (Bill) walks like he lost a pickle up his ass.”
From Thumper on Parole
Bill was boring as spilled sugar-free soda. Bill was like a stop-sign had a baby with a list of rules. If honkies was roads, Bill’d be a cul-de-sac blocked by a tofu store. Thumper got a eleven o’clock curfew when he weren’t at work, but Bill made Thumper go home by ten, so he wouldn’t “cut it close”. Don’t that make the curfew ten?
From Thumper on Parole
Thumper enjoyed touching a honky with nice little muscles and stall blond skin. Kinda light-skinned for a stall blond, but his blond hair was too dark to be a lightcorn, and it was in between straight and curly, which ruled out straightlane or raventack. Thumper know his honkies for real.
From Thumper on Parole
Edwina Chesway
Edwina is a married woman. Her husband is Malcolm Chesway.
Descriptions
Edwina was so pretty, her skin smooth and unblemished, her hair cascading around her face like a waterfall. She was slim and neat but not no delicate pansy neither. She got strength within, and Malcolm got smitted good. He ain’t even hear the rest of the meeting. He sat his stocky booty down and snuck peeks at Edwina all night long.
The melon game
They was working they hardons in the melon game. That means they stand in a circle in the buff and stick they dick in a melon — supposed to be a gourd, but they ain’t easy to find — or sometimes a acorn squash. Each of ’em be hanging a gourd on they cock and the last one to keep it impaled on they stiffy wins, so whoever lose they stiffy get disqualified.
Malcolm stood there with his massive knob swinging free, the at-risk young men sneaking giggles at it. His pecker was wrinkled and well-worn, unlike their smooth rods, concealed right now by melons. Malcolm let his manhood flop between his thighs as he looked down on the lot of ’em. “This ain’t just horseplay, ya silly winkles. This goes back to Africa. It’s a tradition that’s gone down the line through ya ancestors. It’s important. It connects you with ya heritage,” he said. The young men all looked up at him, their slim little bodies gleaming with sweat in the overheated locker room. They was all snickering gigglepusses today, and they looked like frightened fringes in the dingy, cramped room — this was the locker and shower for the halfway home in the church basement. They could smell the iron-hard convicts who came through this place. It stank of mildew and men in here.
Kayshawn Henderson
Kayshawn Henderson, a slick-talking high-yellow young fellah, who be smirking like a kumquat as he and the other probation-alternative at-risk young men from the hood stood in a little circle in the church’s weight room. That was a program aimed at post-high-school men eighteen years of age and older who was endangered of joining a gang. They each caught some charges, but none of them done any serious thuggery yet. Officially they was on records as UNJNC — urban, no jobs, no college — Malcolm pronounced it unjunk — that was what qualified them for the program.
Dutch Battle
Dutch is a trustee.
Descriptions
Dutch Battle was the trustee. He was a strapping man with a curly mop of black and gray hair. He wasn’t old — maybe thirty-five-ish — he just grayed early. He got deep-set eyes and a Northern way of talking, on account of he was from Rhode Island. He was mopping slow as could be in the hallway in the back of the station. He wore sturdy jeans and a sleeveless wifebeater, his ebon chest hairs poking out the sides of the cotton. His clothes was all stained green cuz he did all the lawnwork at the station and at the two fire stations nearby.
Luther Sapley
Luther is a married man.
Descriptions
Luther be sporting a salty gray beard, shaggy like a goat, his cheeks hangdog and sunk-in from couching down — he been fussing with wifey, so he be sleeping sofa-side. He was a lean man by nature, but years in the plastics factory done layer muscles above his lank.
From Malcolm Don’t Take No for an Answer
The bra catalogue
He got a magazine in his other hand, a bra catalogue for ladies. Or maybe it was a gentleman’s interest magazine disguised as a bra catalogue. Lem be looking at one page, but Steel could see the opposite page, and there was a bootyful blonde there showing off her brand-new bra by holding it up for the camera. Her actual tits was bouncing free as a bitch on a spree. Steel got eyes only for that Pueto Rican babe, who prolly got a cooey voice like a pigeon. She prolly mean as hell till a nigga get her clothes off, then she be hot and soft as rice pudding. Spanish girls was like that.
On the other nigga hand, he ain’t have that magazine in prison. The Puerto Rican lady bragging about the high quality of the gussets of her bra got his motor going good, revving like a Hyundai.
Lem picked up his bra catalogue, petting his long meat with one hand — still no hardon though, he be straight-up petting!– and he found a page with a hot chick on it but with no chicks at all on the other page. That way he could aim the hot chick at his own old-nigga eyeballs and the other page at Steel, so Steel got his own nigga-meat in hand and all he be looking at was a page advertising additional bra catalogues. Ain’t no pictures though.
He flipped to a new page, which did got a female on the opposite page, but she was fully clothed, holding up a bra splattered in paint or some shit — showing off the easy-clean nature of whatever bra this catalogue was advertising.From Steel the Roughneck
Habib Sabri
Habib is a Lebanese worker.
Descriptions
Habib worked the ramscrew array in the drillhead antechamber — tough work, so he was bulgey like a barrel of bumps!
From Steel the Roughneck
An Egyptian named Habib, who spoke English okay though he didn’t talk much. He was shorter than Buck and Lem, but he was about as thick and as muscular as Buck, with the same strapping chest and broad shoulders. All the Egyptians were buff as brick, which Lem said was because they didn’t drink booze or smoke blunts. They lifted weights during their free time, both here on the rig and when they were on leave, since they alone among the roughnecks didn’t visit a brothel on leave.
From Buck the Roughneck
Kaskatuk, Alaska
By the time they made it onto the streets of Kaskatuk, Alaska, Steel was ready for tits. Still, the first thing he drank in the bar was a ginger ale and rum, heavy on the ginger. Gotta keep the belly well-y! Lem straight-up chugged a drink he called a “five in one”, which was five shots of whiskey in a glass fulla crushed ice.
You know the goddamn bar don’t even have crushed ice? Fuckin’ Kaskatuk, Alaska, is literally covered in gray snow, it’s some real Frozen shit — Elsa could have this nigga dick for real, Steel would let her go to town all over him, he never even paid no attention to that movie cuz he was wondering if Elsa was old enough for him to wanna fuck her — if the town from Frozen had a ghetto, it would be Kaskatuk. If icebergs could get addicted to meth, this is where they’d go after getting kicked outta rehab.
But they “only got ice in cubes”, and apparently crushing technology ain’t make it this far north! Lem’s five in one only got one ice cube in it, so seemably they barely even got ice in cubes. Town’s fuckin’ mayor is a glacier! One ice cube!
Just kidding, the town don’t got a mayor. It got a “representative administrator” instead, cuz the locals was all on their way to or recovering from a suicide attempt. Not a nice town, but Steel did abide.
One those feather-Indian alcoholics came over and drank with Steel and Lem for awhile. He was nice enough but depressing. He made a nigga sleepy like a warm glass of milk and a blowjob from a sad white girl. He eventually offered to jerk ’em off for a bottle of vodka, but Steel and Lem told him to whisk off.
There was plentya hos in Kaskatuk, and before nightfall, Steel and Lem done gone balls-deep in ’em!From Steel the Roughneck