Chad Kalmeski had always been a big fan of 1970s blaxploitation movies; and so when luck smiled upon him, he decided to fulfill his dream—building himself a bossy, sassy robot black gangster girl, naming her simply “Boom-Boom.” She proved to be exactly what he wished for: a snappy, flirty, and somewhat violent and dominant girlfriend, who started to run a little gang on her own. Chad, as some of you know, was simply dragged along for the ride. But the present writing isn’t a fictional story of Boom-Boom (who, despite her cliched nature, was never meant to offend anyone). It’s the only-SEMI-fictional story of how—much to my surprise—Boom-Boom recently broke the fourth wall!
I’m more of a owl than a morning bird. If I have any choice in the matter, I prefer to work nights—fewer distractions, and the cool night air is easier to breathe. Sure, sometimes I need to chug some extra tea, coffee or energy drinks, especially on weekends; but I have the night only to myself and my work.
I was just in the middle of checking my e-mails when she barged in. Without knocking, of course. Also, I was pretty sure that I’d locked the door—but nevertheless there she was, the most unique android I’d ever met. A tall, graceful, well-endowed African-American woman with shapely legs, dressed up in pantyhose, short-shorts, and a striking leather jacket. Her quite volatile hairdo was this time a storm of cornrows.
“Hey, dawg,” she grinned mischievously at me.
“Holy fuck... Boom-Boom? Girl, where’ve you been?!” I was surprised to see her after over four years.
“Hah! Where HAVEN’T I been, punk?” B-B came over to me and tousled my hair. “Got any beer?”
“There’s two cans and a fourpack of cider in the fridge.” I pointed at my kitchenette.
She just stared at me expectantly. I stared back at her. “So fuckin’ BRING it!” she shouted with a laugh. “Take one beer and one apple piss for yourself, if y’all want to.” When I got back, she was sprawled on my couch and playing with my cat.
“Nice pussy you got there.”, B-B joked.
“Wasn’t talking to you,” she grinned again, pleased at her own high-school-level joke. She stroked the cat a couple of times, whispering something to him, but put him back on the couch and snatched the beverages from me momentarily. She had some trouble opening a can with long, brown-painted fingernails, but eventually she succeeded.
“So, Boom-Boom, you’ve became quite popular on the forums,” I started up, sitting down back in my work chair. “Some dudes write about you, some users want to BE you…”
She almost choked on her beer. “Sh-shit, really?” She thought for a moment. “Dudes or chicks?”
“I’ve never asked.” I shrugged and opened my beer. “Did you see Duke Nukem’s stories? With Brittney Delacroix?”
“Seen ‘em, but not lived ‘em!” She pointed a finger at me. “That was like… geeks like you and Chad say, alternate universe me!” She paused for a moment again. “Rad as hell, though. I’d kick that Vicki’s ass anytime… then make out with the other me. Then again, she’s a psycho robo-bitch from hell. Boom-Boom wants you to keep a smile on, baby.” Boom-Boom crushed a beer can in her hand and tossed it away.
“So,” I said. “Guys on the forum are probably about curious what you, Chad, and Melanie have been up to. Still running the protection racket?” Beer was loosening me up.
“For a while I did, yeah.” She seemed semi-repentant. “I mean, a girl gotta eat. Dorothy and her fucked-up domme gave me some territory after I kicked Wormwood’s ass. We roll together now; Dorothy’s my homegirl! After she fixed us, we partied in their mansion like it was 1991. She was kinda into my bitch Chad, but we cleared that out.”
“Wow, really? Dorothy cheated on Wormwood? Wasn’t Wormwood jealous? She ruled Dorothy and her gang like concubines.”
"Prop, it's an Alpha Bitch thing! Boom-Boom kicked her ass, now she knows her place. I let her be Miss Muscle, think she all that. But she knows that when Boom-Boom gets angry, she gonna shit bricks.", Boom-Boom answered proudly.
“So what, Dorothy had her rebuilt too?”
"Sure. Mags—Wormwood’s first name is Magdalene—kept rockin’ that She-Hulk body, y’know? It’s fuckin’ hilarious.” Boom-Boom opened up the can of cider. “Shit, this is gooooooooooooooood. Fruity but refreshing. Anyway, I sometimes do odd jobs for Mags, now she too chickenshit to roll on the streets… even though she’s built like a brick shithouse.”
“I thought you were more of a self-made-woman.” I thought for a moment. “A factory-made-self-made-woman.”
"What can I say, Prop?” She shrugged and turned semi-serious. “Life’s hard in my hood. It ain’t like me and Mags are the only girlbots with mafias. I ran into this iron Russkie bitch named Xenia. Nice tits, but she even meaner than Mags—or me. Her girls got Chad and… well, THAT’S a long fuckin’ story you gonna hear soon.”
“Yeah—an’ like I’ll tell y’all later, that’s when spent most of our money. So I teamed up with Wormwood and her galpals. An’ then the really WEIRD job, for a real piece o’ work… bot from outta town, so tiny and yet so fuckin’ ANNOYING! Can’t remember her name, but she smoked like a chimney. Everyone called her Contessa.”
“Fuck, a crossover with my Castle stories?” I blinked.
“Shut up, nerd. Yeah, Gatsby-girl hired me to steal shit for her.” Boom-Boom laughed. “Not the smartest idea she ever got. Nice ass on her, though.”
She downed another can of cider. “Strong… nice apple juice.”
“After that me and Chad and Mel ended up in Nevada or somewhere, and I got the fuckin’ brilliant idea to take on Reno. Shit’s really bad there, and I couldn’t count on Mags to bail me out. So after that, I decided to go mostly legit. Well, that—and Chad started to bitch about me needin’ to get a real job.”
I laughed. “So he grew a pair?”
“Dude, don’t harsh on my man. We both grew up, ya know?” She turned serious. “Anyway, he was right—we BOTH did some honest work. Got acquainted with another of Mags’ girlfriends... one that wasn’t a total tightass, but still needed help. Boom-Boom had to get more MATURE, y’know?... *BRAAP*,” she burped. “Shit, sorry. Beer gettin’ to me.”
“At least you’re not Melanie.”
“Mel? Fuck, don’t get me started!” B-B shook her head. “She got built as a flight attendant for one of those airlines where the booze starts flowin’ once the wheels go up. She made to party with sweaty businessguys, and man—Boom-Boom can still FEEL it once in a while.” She looked at the remaining cans of cider and thought for a moment. “Think I can handle some more.”
“Hey! Don’t you be dissin’ me! I come here to say hi to you and all the chumps on the forums, and you’re what? What? What? What?”, she stuck for a moment. I came to her and pressed a reset button on the back of her skull.
“I came here to crash for a while, dawg.” She stretched sensuously for a while.
“Uh… are you on the lam, B-B?” I asked. “Hiding from someone?”
“Nah, dawg. ...Shit, that stuff was real strong… I’m on a legit job this time.”
“What kind of job?”
But Boom-Boom didn’t answer; instead snoring in a simulated—but quite realistic—sleep on my couch. I decided not to wake her up. I’d heard enough tales of Boom-Boom’s misadventures for now. Maybe she’d tell me some more the next time I saw her. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Still, it was good to have her back.