Back home I was the meanest "motha fucka" in the neighbourhood, hell in the district. You wouldn't know it by looking at me, 5 foot 8, while gorged on...the delicacies of my culture had left me on the heavy side. I had strength though, real strength, earned through hours of labour in the steel mills. A little on the quiet side but isn't that what they say about all the maniacs. I guess my real trouble didn't start until I was fourteen or so, when my whore mother remarried to a local pimp named. I was leaning toward the mirror, applying lipstick, when she stepped into the doorway behind me."Gettin' ready for you big date?" she said with a smirk.I pulled the lipstick away and pressed my lips together."Funny," I muttered.Rachel turned and walked into her bedroom. I could still see her reflection in the mirror, moving around in her room."You know she's a dyke, don't ya?" she called.I was applying eye shadow, when she said that, and slowly stood up, staring at myself in the mirror. I. More

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