Someone said they wanted to see Big Daddy 'handle' the shit going down in Requiem for a Loud. I've never read the story (surprising, given what I write, but I really don't want to read a downer story – I'm depressed enough on my own), so all I know is Lincoln is dying. How does Big Daddy handle it? Read on and find out. Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving.
Big Daddy Lincoln Loud was standing over Lisa's shoulders with his hands behind his back. He wore a purple velvet suit with leopard print lapels, a hat with a feather stuck in the band, a gold dollar sign chain around his neck, and rings on his fingers. The thing about being a straight pimp is: It get boring after a while. Slap bitches, make money, always win...Big Daddy needed something to break up the monotony, know what I mean? And that thing was traveling through the multiverse and fuckin' with people.
Lisa was going through all the possible realities on her computer and rattling them off. "Here's one where you're a girl with ten brothers."
"Nah, fuck that," Big Daddy said.
"Here's one where you and Lucy kill Luan."
Big Daddy shook his head. "Why would I kill my hos? If I kill my hos, they ain't makin' money."
Lisa sighed, and Lincoln slapped her across the back of the head. "Watch yo' tone, bitch."
"Yes, sir."
She scanned the screen. "Here's one where you're dying of a rare disease."
Big Daddy gaped. Dying? Him? Oh, hell no. He had to see this shit. "Yeah, send me there."
Fifteen minutes later, Big Daddy walked out of a portal into a hospital room. Another version of himself lay in a bed, hooked up to a battery of machines. He was frail and sickly, his sallow skin stretched tight over his skull. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes stuck out, and his arms were bones. His parents and his sisters stood around weeping. When Big Daddy entered, they all looked up, and Big Daddy waved his Pimp Hand, freezing them in place. They could still see and hear, but they couldn't move.
Dying Lincoln glanced slowly up, his faded eyes pooled with misery. The sight of the weak ass little boy made him mad. "Look at this little nigga dyin' and shit," he said disgustedly as he strutted over to the bed, his back bowed. "The hell's wrong with you, nigga? AIDS? You know what AIDS stands for, don't you, my nigga? Anally Injected Death Sentence."
Dying Lincoln moaned. Big Daddy got in his face, his anger growing at how pathetic this version of himself was. "You see them pearly gates yet, nigga?" He looked over at Luna and saw that she was holding her guitar. He went over and grabbed it, then came back. "Ima play you some travellin' music, nigga; you gon' need it." He ripped a few perfect cords. "This nigga gonna die today," Big Daddy sang, "this nigga soul gonna fly today."
Dying Lincoln started to sob, and Big Daddy could feel his own anger rising. He was going to lose control. "That's right, nigga, cry, nigga," he said, his voice starting to shake, "it's sad as fuck. You ain't gonna get yo' first kiss, nigga, you ain't gonna go to homecomin', nigga, yo ain't gonna get married, nigga YOU GONNA BE DEAD, NIGGA, ROTTIN' IN THE GROUND, NIGGA! IMA CALL YOU PETER PAN, NIGGA, CUZ YOU AIN'T EVER GON' GROW UP!"
Dying Lincoln cried even harder.
Big Daddy slapped his ass. "Yo' bitch ass gonna be a picture on the mantelpiece, nigga, next to yo' ashes. Ain't no one gon' care, nigga. Cliff gonna knock yo' ashes on the floor, take a big, fat shit, and you gonna get sucked up in the hand vac, wind up in the landfill with all the other trash, nigga. You a selfish little motherfucka. 'Ima hang on as long as I can.' Nigga, you just makin' it worse. If you really cared about yo' family, nigga, you'd just die so they could start grievin'." Big Daddy spotted a gay ass Ace Savvy comic on the bed. He snatched it up. "This shit mine, now, nigga; you ain't gonna need it where you goin'."
Lincoln was so upset from Big Daddy's taunts that he gave up and died.
A week later, Big Daddy strolled into his funeral. He wore his normal attire, plus a fur coat. Ho Leni and Ho Lynn were on either side of him. He froze everyone and went up to the casket. A big picture of Lincoln's smiling face stood among a heap of flowers. Big Daddy knocked it over with his cane. Lincoln lie in the coffin, his hands folded over his chest.
Big Daddy shook his head. "This nigga was a straight bitch." He slapped the corpse as hard as he could: The casket tipped over and crashed to the floor. "Fuck yo' bitch ass." He hocked and spat on the dead boy.
On his way out, he stole Lincoln's sisters. "Ya'll work for me now."
They kept crying about they brother, so he wound up choking them all out. Dumb hos.