If you didn't read the first installment of ATTACK THAT SNATCH it is okay -- the title alone should help you to follow the story line.

Years ago I used to work an early shift from 6:30am to 2:30pm … of course I had to be on the train by 5:30am and there were always some interesting happenings early in the morning. I would always be on the train alone with just me and the “happening,” which can be scary at times, but I digress …

One time an older, butch, black woman got on the train looking wore out in a baggy, stained jogging suit. As she walked on the train she had her hands DEEP in her pants prowling and looking around for a seat. At first I thought she was attempting to be "masculine" and "hood" with her hands in her crotch, but then I noticed there was some seismic activity going on in the wild goose region, but I tried my best not to look.

On her hunt for a seat she would put her "free" hand on each seat as if she was trying to feel if it was warm or cold -- then she would sit down for a second and jump back up like it burnt or chilled her. By this time I knew she was coo-coo for the coco puffs and I just prayed she wouldn't sit next to me. Finally she finds an acceptable seat across from me and slumps down, looking like she was about to fall asleep -- the whole time her hand never left her pants.

Right when I think she is snoozing she begins ATTACKING THAT SNATCH... and I don't mean a lite-lite tickle -- she is attacking her snatch like it is a war zone! She is moaning, growling, whipping her head back and forth, legs shaking, big ole' bosoms reverberating through her baggy clothes... I AM APPALLED AND NAUSEATED ... I felt like a good-Christian white woman seeing a big black dick for the first time!

What made it worse is NO ONE was on the train and she just GOT HER MOTHAF%!KIN' LIFE right in front of me! I considered running to the next car but I didn't want to attract any attention to myself -- she might've attacked me if I even slightly interrupted her attack on that jungle bush! Finally after a good ten minutes of attack-a-tion she lets out a deep moan ... and found her happy ending. I thought it was over but then she takes her hand out of her pants with a GOOEY MESS dripping from her sticky fingers and GRABS THE POLE that people use on the train and falls the fuck asleep.

I AM FINISHED and wishing I had a bottle of ammonia to clean the entire train car. My spirit was "shooken," I was deeply wounded and every time I retell this story I feel like I am reliving the horror. To this day when I put my hand on a pole in the subway I think of all the bacteria and how that woman was ATTACKING THAT SNATCH... which is exactly why I scrub my hands like Joan Crawford the minute I get home!

Labels: STORYTELLING