About a year ago Barbie Cummings approached me about helping her start a site.
“Are you sure this is something you want to do?” I asked.
“Absolutely!” She exclaimed.
Then I told her about all the work. First, we’d have to have at least 20 scenes — maybe more — before the site even opens. If we shoot once a week…well, that would take 5 months. Then, we’d have to edit them. Pay someone to design the look of the site.
Production. And post production.
It could take a year before the site’s even up. And then, it might take longer before you make a dime.
After I explained all this, I looked over at her. She wasn’t so excited anymore.
She asked, “What if the people you work for just put me under contract?”
I said, “Well, I could do that. Do you have any ideas on what your site might be all about?”
She thought for a bit. “I love black cock.”
“Duh.”
“I want a baby.”
“Oh wow. You never really told me that!”
“How about I just bang hot black guys and let them fill me up with their jizz until I’m knocked up?”
I smiled. I shook my head. I laughed. I was taken back, and then I thought “hot”.
That’s usually my thought process whenever I was with Barbie…no matter what we were doing. In that order. Barbie does something…anything, and Billy Watson: 1) Smiles. Then, 2) Shakes his head. Then, 3) Laughs. Then, 4) Gets repulsed. Then, 5) thinks what she just did was hot.
“Wait! Wait! I know! Let’s start my scenes with me taking a pregnancy test! If I’m negative, I’ll get all sad, and cry, and then I’ll fuck black guys and it’ll make me happy. Then, we’ll do it all over again next time we shoot!!”
“Will people really believe us?” I asked.
She looked at me like I was a dope. “Of course they will, Pencil Dick. Make sure you book multiple guys for each scene, too. I’ll take as many loads as they give me. I don’t even wanna know who the baby’s daddy is.”
Would it be really hot to capture a girl getting knocked up by black guys? And Barbie doesn’t know who the baby’s daddy is? Would people buy it? Would I get killed by Barbie’s dad?
“Wait till they getta load of my site,” Barbie said, smiling.
“No pun intended,” I added.
It’s as real as the hangover you nursed away this weekend. It’s as real as your girlfriend breaking it off for another man. It’s as real as George W. Bush’s second term.
Consider yourself warned.
