Hairy Pimper and the Ghetto of Doom

Chapter One: Da Homie Dat Didn't Die

Sup yo? I be Hairy Pimper, in one of da four crackhouses of Ho-warts Elementary skoo. But mah rents, dey be mad stupid yo, dey don't understand whatta fine-ass biatch dey got fo' uh son. Like here, at da breakfast table, dey be all . . .

***

Petunia Dursley opened the front door to her studio apartment, almost tripping on her 100% crocodile skin Gucci shoes and dropping her Prada purse. But Hairy Pimper saw none of that. In fact, what he was thinking was, "Yo, dat biatch's ass be as wide as her minivan!"

"Dudley, darling! Mumsy is here! I have another meeting tonight, so help yourself to the balls of lard!" she yelled, her lipstick-drenched mouth forming a gaping maw.

But there was no response.

"Hairy! Get over here, you abomination!"

"Yeah?" Hairy moaned, rolling his eyes. Petunia turned up her nose in his presence, as usual.

"Where is my dear Dudley?"

"He's not home."

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

"He's . . . Not . . . Home."

"I don't EVER want to hear you using that kind of language again in this house! Half-rations tonight!"

"But aunt, I said 'home.' Not 'homie' or 'homedawg' or . . ."

"ENOUGH!"

***

One hour later, I be sittin' in uh dawg cage tryin' not ta set da security system off. But dis T.V. iz totally whack, yo. All it be playin' iz "Boyz in da Hood" nonstop all summah! 'Cept dat one tyme where it be playin' "Risky Bizness." Dat movie wuz phat, yo!

***

"I think the best ways to increase our companies profits are, without a doubt . . . AAARG!"

Uncle Vernon's business proposal was interrupted by his pager, Palm Pilot, and cell phone all going off at the same time. With great fanfare, he pulled the pager out of his pocket and checked it. His wife's office number.

"Excuse me, please," he said as he stepped into the hall. He pulled out his Nokia and dialed.

"Hello?"

"I just don't know what to do about -- that thing," Petunia's voice answered, "Ever since the summer's started, Hairy's been actually enjoying wearing Dudley's clothes."

"I don't see how he could. Dudley's so much more horizontally endowed than Hairy. They're so baggy they practically fall off his shoulders!" mused Vernon.

"And you know that hideous necklace that is so long it hangs to my stomach? Only 20% real gold! I gave it to him as a pity birthday present but the child actually wears it daily! He calls it his 'bing bing' or some other uncouth word! But today is the last straw! As I was working in the garden, a car pulled up, a window rolled down, and a projectile came right at me! And instead of a bullet, there was a note!"

"And what did it say?" asked Vernon, eager to get his wife back on track so he could get back to the meeting.

"It said," Petunia cringed at the memory and at having to recite foul language, 'We iz comin' ta git Hairy! Hand him ovah or we bust a cap up his ass, ya dig?'"

They pondered in silence for a few minutes.

"BUT WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?" they both exploded.

"We'll discuss this when we get home. I gotta go."

Petunia made a smacking sound into the cell phone.

***

Yo. I be sittin' in da dawg crib an' practicin' mah supafly ghetto hand signals. They peep supa ghetto fabulous cuz o' all dese mysterious marks up 'n' down mah arm. Den I be hearing mah motherfuckin' aunt an' mah brothafuckin' uncle havin' dis whacked-out argument.

"Vernon! I got another one of those drive-bys! The note said, 'Aiight, ya sorry mofos, we be gettin' Hairy, Da Homie Dat Didn't Die in an houa! We gonna take da homie outta yo' hands, considerin' ya don't seem ta like da kid much! Signed,'" again Petunia wrinkled her nose and squirmed a little, "'Pimp Daddy.'"

"Pimp Daddy? That miserable kid is going to turn out just like his parents, Pansy and Lame."

"Our relative, the son of a common pimp and prostitute! If word got out . . . can you say major corporate scandal?" added Petunia.

Uncle Vernon nodded in agreement. "But if we let this mysterious . . . person take away Hairy, we won't have to deal with him at all. And think of all the food expenses we'd be saving!"

"That's the most brilliant idea I've heard in a while," said Petunia, "Why the hell didn't we just get rid of him in the first place if we hated him so much?"

***

Vernon and Petunia positioned themselves in front of the dog cage, trying to use their "CEO poses" to look as intimidating as possible to Hairy, who was much more interested in drumming on the bars of the dog cage, banging his head up and down.

"Hairy," Vernon began threateningly, "Get out of that cage. We have something to tell you."

Submissively, Hairy crawled out of the cage and stood before his aunt and uncle. Dudley's outgrown pants were so low they dragged to the floor, revealing a couple inches of holey boxers.

"Hairy! Pull your pants up and turn them around the right way! Someone is going to get you and take you away from here. He left us notes."

Petunia studied Hairy's face for a reaction. It was stoic.

"Where?" Hairy finally asked.

"We don't know," answered Vernon, "We figured it's something to do with your dead parents. All we have are these notes that we got via drive-by shootings."

Hairy's face lit up in the biggest show of emotion he had shown in a while.

"DUUUUUUUUDE!"

Midway through the fourth "U," a tall figure bust through the wall.

"Do you have any idea how much that plaster cost? I'm gonna slap a lawsuit on you!" yelled Vernon.

"Vernon, ya can take dat lawsuit an' shove it up yo' ass," said the man, winking at Hairy.

The man stood so tall he was taller than the mantelpiece, with a thick build. However, the most noticeable thing about him was the floor length purple coat with faux-zebra trim. Completing the ensemble was a matching wide-brimmed purple hat with a long feather tied around the middle. It was the kind of getup that made Petunia want to say, "Where did you buy that outfit? The dollar store?" while parading around in an Armani suit. Luckily, for her sake, she refrained from doing so.

The giant addressed Hairy, "Name's Ho-grid, but ya can call me Pimp Daddy."

"Hey, waz up da dilly-o," was Hairy's greeting. Then the two did an elaborate hand ritual while the aunt and uncle watched, pretending not to notice and waiting for it to be over.

"Do you at least have the common courtesy to tell us what this is about? This has something to do with his no-good parents, does it not?" interrupted Vernon. Pimp Daddy removed his hand from Hairy's.

"Yeah, Hairy Pimper here is--"

"Mah last name's Pimper? Dat's the sweetest tightest ghettoest ding I heard in mah life!"

Pimp Daddy ignored Hairy's, erm, outburst.

"Hairy is continuing the legacy of his parents, Pansy and Lame Pimper. Bless their hearts-- such an honorable way to die, too," said Ho-grid.

"Honorable? Dat's some whacked-up shiat yo! Car crashes are az about az honorablae az dyin' in yo sleep!"

Hairy wasn't allowed to speak like that in front of his aunt and uncle, so he was taking advantage of the opportunity.

"Car crash! Hairy, mah brotha, yo mama no teach ya nothin'! Ya see, Lame be da pimpinest pimp in London. He be a-workin' da street corners twenty-fo' houas a day, and hiz hoes be sellin' fasta dan McDonald's fries," Pimp Daddy told Hairy.

"Whadda bout mah mama, yo?"

"Yo mama wuz uh suburban biatch, but she really wanna be a ho in da hood. She met Lame when she wuz a teenage runaway yo, an' she go werk fo' him. She wuz hiz best ho, yo. She be turnin' mo' tricks dan David Copperfield. And da two o' dem wuz makin a bunch o' dough till dat wun deal gone bad. Voldemort, he be wun badass dealer yo, an' he be a-shooting yo parents. But dat bullet be ricochetin' off yo' fo'head. Dat's why you be known as, 'Da Homie Dat Didn't Die.'"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia looked at the red round mark on Hairy's forehead.

"We just thought his parents were one of those Hindu freaks," the offered.

"But anyway, I'm going to take Hairy away to a type of boarding school," said Pimp Daddy.

"Boardin' skoo? Dat's some freaky shit yo!"

"Ah, but dis skoo is tiiiiiggght. Ya learn how ta be da pimpinest pimp o' all time!"