Little Known Fact

Good morning, ladies. I am addressing the ladies only fellas because you may not want to read this entry beyond this point. Why? Because this is about dizzack. If you have no knowledge about your dizzack, I HIGHLY suggest you revisit your childhood pediatrician with daddy in the room. Please make sure you ask either one of them "What dat?" and "What dis for, daddy?"

But anyway ladies, let me give you a little background. I am very dark-skinned. My cousin's name is Brother Darkness, but I'm actually darker than he is as proven photographically by my friend PrettyPussy(Cat). One thing that is a must for us dark brothas (especially in the winter-time) is above average hygiene in the dizzack area. Now, I KEEP my joints clean. What I'm referring to is the accursed ash. Yes, ash. Not ash tree, not ash tray, but the dry skin accumulation that make your ankles looks like you've been kicking flour when you don't hit that lotion. One thing that I have to do after every shower is get dressed and THEN lube up. I get dressed first because you can't lube up right after a shower, the effect is not as good. You have to have your pants and draws on, unfasten the pants and stick your hand down your pants with a handful of lotion. It doesn't matter what scent, color or even quality just as long as its lotion.

Now you may ask yourself "Brother Kojak, WHY is that so important?". I'll tell you with concocted fantasy:

You are at your desk working having the most boring work day of your life. Your cubicle neighbor is telling you all about how her first born son Charlie is doing all kinds of miraculous things like farting and shitting mustard colored turds. And of course, the email pics from her keep coming; "Charlie and Grandpa-pa" "Charlie and the neighbor" "Charlie and the ferret". Your boyfriend is acting like a bitch because his mother didn't send him any apple crumb pie for his birthday. "I wonder what Brother Kojak is up to?" you ask yourself.
So you call me....
Me: Hello?
You: Hey! How you doing?
Me: Hey girl. I'm str8. How have you been?
You: Bored as hell. Its just been one of those weeks.
Me: I feel you. So what do I owe the pleasure of your call?
You: Oh, nothing. Just wanted to see what you were doing this week.
Me: Hmmm....its winter-time. Its too cold to be out there.
You: Oh, that's too bad.
Me: Is it?
You: Yeah because we haven't hung out in a while.
Me: Well, I tell you what...you come thru and we'll play it by ear from there.
You: Well....ok.
Me: Don't worry. It won't be a wasted trip.
You: **smile** Yeah, whatever!

So you parlay over to Brother Kojak's crib. He's good company. Talkative. Funny. Easy on the eyes. Not that you want to get AT HIM; you have a boyfriend, but him being decent-looking makes it easier to tolerate a long convo. You arrive to him opening the door and your nostrils get filled with the fresh aroma of some kind of herbal tea. "Girl, get in here! Its cold out there. I ain't going nowhere shit! And we can have warm drinks right here." You laughed step in and hand him your coat. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice him scan you up and down. "Some things never change" you say to yourself. The 2 of you sit on the couch and begin a conversation that spans the range of politics au lait to family members who need mental therapy. Regardless of the conversation, he keeps scanning your body and its actually starting to turn your on. He talks softer as if to lure you closer so that you can hear him. Before you know it, the 2 of you are engrossed in long, naughty kisses and roaming hands. He leans back with a subtle gesture to unfasten his pants. You oblige. First the belt buckle. Then the pants button. Then the zipper. And then, with a coy smile you reach into his pants and pull out the firm, phallic appendage. The smile disappears and your jaw slightly drops.

"Uh oh..."
"Oh my..."
"What the....?"
You look down, and the dizzack is dotted with large spots of chalky ash. You pretend to caress it, but what you are really doing is examining it. "Dayum! What the f(*&?!?!" On the tip, the skin is layered and cracked. And as you stroke it, you here a soft "szszszs" sound.
The spontaneity, the magic.....is officially over.

You: I can't do this.
Me: Huh? What's wrong?
You: I feel...so guilty. I have a man, I shouldn't be here, not like this.
Me: But how you get to changing your mind NOW??
You: I'm sorry Brother Kojak. I just can't...I better be going..."
Me: **shaking head** Damn.


So, a brotha has GOT to do his maintenance. Brush dem teef, wash the vitals, and stay lubed. I would assume that a sick-looking dizzack is very unattractive. Whether it is or not, I GOT my Big Tee Shirt. I'm prepared! (long story) I refuse to get caught like that. There is a thing of lotion in my room and even a Dollar General brand in the car. Fellas, if you still with me, heed my advice. God forbid she put you out there in the streets about the ashiness. Don't let it happen to you. Imitating Ashy Larry ain't cool and it ain't wise. Now go handle that....