Sugardaddy's 7

Chapter 8

Day 4

I'm surprised my car hasn't ran out of fuel yet. It's on the verge of empty, but we've been driving way longer than I would have anticipated on just one tank of gas.

It is sunrise, so the alien abduction must have lasted multiple hours. I feel a large bulge in my pants pressing on my jean zipper. It hurts like a bitch so that means it's time for me to have sex. But not now. I have more important things to do. For example, We're in the sunshine state. That means there's plenty of outrageous shit to do.

I'm about 30 minutes outside of San Francisco. I see a sign that says "welcome to San Jose!". I'm in the bad side of town because I can see black men with sleeves of intimidating tattoos, playing basketball. Broken houses with busted mailboxes and masked teens with pants sagged occupy the streets. Moreover, I can see multiple Mexicans bearing the sign of Latin Kings. So I got to get the fuck out of here. But then I see a familiar figure balling on the courts to my left. Stephen Curry.

He's making it rain threes like its the only thing he knows how to do. Bucket after bucket drains, and the black men facing him are crying in misery after being out-played so badly. My time to shine.

I was a excellent basketball player before I died so I got this locked up. I approach Steph Curry with an attitude. I poke him on the shoulder and say, "One on one. You and me."

"You serious man? I don't ball with nobodies. You don't look like you can ball for shit, white boy."

"Oh yeah?" I pick up a ball and set my feet at the three point line and shoot. It goes in, nothing but net.

"Yeah, well I bet you can't do that again." Curry says.

I place my hands on the ball and once more, drain a three.

"Impressive. But still not goo-" Steph is cut off when a Latin King comes up behind him and shanks him in the neck. All hell is broke loose when he falls to the floor, dead in his own puddle of blood.

I don't stick around to find out what happens after that, as Ladasha and I hop into the Ferrari and speed out of that flaming bag of shit excuse of a neighborhood. I was really looking forward to balling with Steph Curry though, and making cry like a bitch when he loses.

Next on my agenda is to go to Hollywood. It is south of San Jose by about an hour or so. Therefore I will require a gas stop to keep going. I take the time to fill up my tank at a BP station. They kill ecosystems, I like that.

While I'm filling up my tank, I watch the news on a television above the station. I am alarmed to see my face along with Ladasha's appear on screen. Next to us is a wanted poster. That will be something to be mindful of when sightseeing.
I successfully fill up my tank of gas without being spotted. I mask my face with a beanie hat I found while in the rougher parts of San Jose. I pull it down far below my ears so I can't be identified. I must look like a total retard right now...
I get into the vehicle and tell Ladasha the grim news. She doesn't seem very fazed and says because she's black, she's been wanted for years. Me on the other hand, am a little panicked. But I choose to follow Ladasha's calm attitude.
We take off, when I feel a rumbling in my stomach. I had not eaten in days and hunger has finally caught up to me. Then I see a cloaked figure in a black suit and top hat with sunglasses beckoning me on the side of the road. I quickly realize who it must be and tell Ladasha I need to take a break and that it will only take a brief moment.

I pull over about 30 yards away from this masked gentleman. I pace towards him, checking my surroundings to make sure I'm not being watched.

"Hello Sugardaddy," the man says with a ear-drum crushing low voice.
"Hello Satan," I shiver. "How are you doing?"

"Good. How's being a crazed lunatic going?" He asks.

"Alright, I guess." I pause. "But I'm kinda hungry."

"So it's food you want eh?" Satan strokes his goatee. "Let me make a deal with you."

"I'm listening, go on"

"Well, you know that black friend of yours in the passengers seat over there?" He says.

"You mean Ladasha? Yeah, what about her?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"If you can kill that bitch, then I'll give you ten bucks and a papa johns coupon for free."

"Ok." I quickly reply without hesitation.

"Wait, your not going to try to negotiate with me? What kind of monster are you?" Satan exclaims.

"A hungry monster." I say back.

Satan appears to be a man of his word, and decides to pay me up front. He gives me two $5 bills and a coupon that's about the same size as the currency.

I briskly jog over to Ladasha, open the car door, grab her by the hair, and put a bullet through her skull execution style with my hunting rifle. Yeah, it was that easy. She screamed like the cunt she was. It's a little sickening when I realize how much joy it gave me. I leave her dead body on the side of the road and quickly jump into my Ferrari.

I'm already close enough to Hollywood to where I don't need the navigation systems help anymore. So I input my new destination for the nearest Papa John's Pizza. Once I pick a store and arrive in the parking lot, I walk in and grab a medium pepperoni pizza and a two liter Pepsi. I've just spent all my money so this has got to last.

I eat up quickly and devour my pie and soda. After that I see something completely awesome. At first I think my eyes are tricking me, but then I realize this is no joke. Magic Johnson is adjacent to my Ferrari in a gold hummer eating Papa John's as well. Holy shit, not only have I seen Steph Curry and watch him die, but now I've seen the legendary Magic Johnson too. I get out of my car and approach him.

"Hey Magic!" I scream next to his hummer. "Can I have your autograph?"

"Sure dude!" He says while rolling down the window with a warm
smile. He then proceeds to sign my cardboard pizza box I just got with a red pen.

I then ask him, "Is it true you have aids?"

He seems astonished that I would inquire such a thing. But he keeps his composure and answers my question with a "Yes, I do."

"Can I have some of your blood then?" I ask once more with a grimace.

"Umm, ok..." He proceeds to inject himself with a syringe and draws some blood for me. He then hands it to me and asks "What do you plan on doing with that?"

"That's not important," I say without making eye contact.

I thank him for the Aids-infected blood and make my way to the Ferrari. I drive away, both full and satisfied.