Plans are in motion

Shanique was at her desk keeping guard, making sure she was ready to act. She kept her senses alert so she could hear the stomping of one of the whiny niggers that wanted more money for their shitty, non-selling albums. God knew the studio was filled with them, though they seemed to be too busy getting high, if she had to guess, to bother them for the moment.

So with the coast clear for the moment, Shanique decides she better check on the rest of her responsibilities as a secretary for Bobby Leeks. As with the plan in motion, if Alice's mood leaving Bobby's office was anything to go by, business will be picking up soon. So she'd best make sure everything was in order for the increase in workload that was sure to come.

Shanique found herself taking a little bit trying to find the secretary book she kept. As it had been a while since she used it last, and she actually lost it in her desk somehow. Though she eventually found it after a bit of digging. What she found when she looked inside gave her a fresh wave of guilt. As the little logbook meant to help her keep track of Bobby's appointments was filled up, there was not a blank page to be found.

The damning part, though, is that it wasn't filled with work notes as it should have been. No, sadly for her guilt, she had started doodling in the book long before she saw the truth and denounced the Black Supreme bullshit in her own mind. So the book was filled to the brim with page after page of racial slurs against Bobby or some very unflattering doodles she had drawn of Bobby. That was very racist, to be putting it mildly.

So Shanique, seeing the book was not only useless but was effectively evidence of her former dumb Negro ways, knew there was only one thing to do with it. As she simply couldn't throw it away—no, that was far too risky to come back and have it used against her. So she did the only logical thing, which was throw it in the small trash can near her desk and set it on fire so that there would be no trace of its existence.

This caused her job as a kind of security guard to be far easier, not that she knew that. As a few of the ignorant Negroes came by looking for a raise and were about to barge into Bobby's office, they saw her burning stuff with an intense look in her eyes. Then promptly decided they had other things to do and went the other way. So with Shanique gaining a reputation as a burning psycho, what was Choco up to?

She was dealing with Negro bullshit. Her booty shook. In her daisy dukes, her breasts jiggled in her Southern flag bikini top as she leaned back and threw a right hook. The Negro bullshit, as she called him, that was on the other end of her fist went down like a bitch. Choco, not satisfied, gave another kick to the little thing she imagined he thought was a dick.

The Negro bullshit, now down on the ground and groaning in agony on the floor, made no move to get back up. As a final insult, Choco spat on him. "Dumb motherfucking monkey." Choco said, her voice filled with rage. She then turned away from the pathetic excuse for a monkey and went behind the counter he was pretending to man.

She booted up the computer and immediately started trying to find what she was looking for. Though she wasn't having the best of times, as she was looking at the moment at a list of music shops throughout the country. The problem was she had no idea which would sell her mix. As all their recent CD bombs had soured the relationship a bit.

Now she should have been able to just hand this task over to the guy in charge of it. The problem was he was now lying on the floor in agony. Which he deserved to be, as he kept asking her how much for sexual favors. Instead of doing his fucking job. Then he decided, in his ****-fueled horny haze, to try and touch what belonged to Master Bobby.

Which is why the ass kicking happened, though luckily for her, she managed to find a few stores on their list of distributors who she thinks they could sell to without the help of the failed monkey still groaning on the floor. So she quickly made a list of the available music stores and then went to the copier to mass produce the mixedtapes.

While the special copier was making hundreds of copies of her new songs. She went and made a few phone calls to make sure that someone would be by to pick them up soon. Choco, as she was making the phone calls, could feel an eager smile coming across her lips as her surprise was close to being ready for her dear master Bobby, proving he was right and making her his.