Free Mama Black Widow by Iceberg Slim

from them or kills one of them. Then they drop the full weight of their double standard law and bury him in prison or barbecue him in the electric chair.
    â€œNo, Joe didn’t die a natural death. He was proud and fit for better, and he hated the filthy garbage and the slimy sewers he worked. He just lay down that night and died of hopelessness and a broken heart.”
    Mama jut sat there with a pained look on her face like she was hurting to hear the North wasn’t paradise after all. Bunny fingered a policy slip on the table and looked at it wryly.
    Mama said, “Bunny, yu bin frum down South a long time. An’ yu ain’t nevah done no share croppin’ an’ raisin’ younguns. Ah knows up heahs bettern down South. We havin’ good luck up heah. Frank’s workin’ a’ready, an’ we ain’t jammed up in no one room hearin’ one anuther breakin’ win’, thanks tu yu, uv cose.
    â€œAin’t nuthin’ real wrong up heah. A day don’ pass, ah ain’t seen big shot niggers drivin’ great long cahs pas’ this buildin’. Up heah apo’ nigger got a hope tu hol a big ’mount uv money. Yu jes’ drinkin’ an’ missin’ Joe, an’ it got yu en th’ dumps.”
    Bunny waved a flesh bare hand through the air and said, “Sedalia, I’m funky drunk, and there’s no doubt the North is better for some spooks than the big foot country. Only time will tell whether or not it’s better for you and Frank.
    â€œThose dapper niggers didn’t get those pretty cars shoveling snow or shining shoes. They are policy wheelmen, pimps, dope peddlers and hustlers. All of nigger Chicago is lousy with policy stations, gambling joints and whore cribs. So Sugar, stop dreaming and play policy. It’s the only way a poor honest nigger can hope to get big money.”
    Mama got up and headed for Bunny’s carpet sweeper.
    Mama laughed halfheartedly and said, “Oh, Heifer, save thet breath. Ah ain’t takin’ yur jinky talk serious.”
    Bunny squealed and jerked her feet in the air as Mama raced the sweeper past the sofa. I got a rag and dusted. Mama was massaging Bunny’s scalp when the sound of loud quarreling came from the hall.
    A guttural female voice shouted, “Get the hell off my property! I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to rent to you. You better get the hell out. I’ve called the police. Now go on! Get out! Get out!”
    A man’s trembling voice protested, “Miss, Ah ain’t movin’ a peg ’til yu gimme back mah thurty dollars deposit. Ah be gladder than yu tu see th’ law come. They gonna’ tel yu yu ain’t actin’ legul latchin’ on tu mah money th’ way yu is. Yu ain’t mah woman. Ah ain’t got nutin’ tu give yu. Now gimme back mah money, lady.”
    The woman laughed contemptuously and said, “Baloney, the law says I don’t have to give a refund without return of a receipt.”
    The man said, “Shit, lady, don’ jive me. Cose ah ain’t got no piece a paper. Yu an’ me know yu ain’t give me none. But me and yu damn sho know yu got mah money. Ah don wanta’ get mad so unass mah money, lady.”
    There was a frantic scrape of feet and the hysterical voice of the landlady screamed, “Don’t you speak to me that way. Stay away from me. Don’t you touch me, you nigger sonuvabitch.”
    Cousin Bunny and Mama went to the half-open door. I followed and lay on the floor looking out between Mama’s ankles into the hall. The twins and Junior were standing in the doorway of our apartment across the hall staring at the tense scene.
    A small black man in a leaky blue overcoat held out his demanding palm toward the rigid figure of the landlady glaring down at him like a curved beak bird of prey, vivid blue eyes round and cold and unblinking.
    There was the screech of brakes in