as an experienced pimp Gerald knew how important it was train regularly and hone his special pimping abilities, after all not any old person can successfully be a pimp. it takes time, practise, dedication and above all else...a very snazzy pimp coat and hat. Gerald takes himself to his special dark room. a small box room with a broken light fixture, closing the door behind him he steps into the middle of the room. slowly he begins to take deep breaths and controls his exhales, he closes his eyes and becomes comfortable with the silent blackness now consuming him. he begins to visualise piece by piece a fantasy surrounding, a brightly lit street...cars buzzing by, lots and lots and lots of street corners all with bitches standing on them. so many street corners its hard to even count them. with all the movement and all the cars it becomes difficult to single out a specific corner and see what the bitch is doing. Gerald focus's his mind and begins to squint his closed eyes, rapidly his head moves....left....right....left...scanning every corner rapidly...making sure that bitch is there...doing bitch stuff...he continues to scan every corner he has created with his mind, small beads of sweat now forming on his brow as he focus's every ounce of energy onto his task. after several minutes he notices a corner without a bitch, he visualises the corner coming closer and closer, scanning the area he locates the missing bitch who is now behind a dumpster....doing bitch stuff. Gerald sighs with relief as she is making him money but continues to scan other corners. after 40 minutes of intense focused visualisation training Gerald emerges from his small room dripping with sweat. Gerald reaches for his hanky and wipes his brow.

Gerald now decides it is time to work on his reflexes and pimp calling. he makes his way upstairs and into the loft, he has a strange array of old punching bags stuffed with dirty old clothing hanging from the rafters, some with crudely drawn faces and lipstick smeared on them. again Gerald takes deep breaths and slowly walks through the middle of the hanging bags....as he approaches the first he raises his right hand and brings it down hard back handing the first punching bag "BITCH" he yells while the slapping sound echo's throughout the loft. continuing to walk forward he slaps several more of the punching bags screaming wildly at them "WHERES MY MONEY BITCH" SLAP.......GET ON THAT CORNER BITCH" SLAP!......."YOU HOLDING OUT ON ME BITCH??!!"  SLAP ......

fifteen minutes or so pass and as Gerald's hand becomes sore he decides to call it a day on the training, he makes his way out of the loft and back down into the main hallway. standing in front of a tall mirror he begins to sweep his long curly hair to the side, picking up one of his many fabulous hats he places one on his head and reaches for the snazziest pair of glasses he can see on the shelf. Gerald then reaches for his lime green pimp coat with the fur underside and large leather collar. he fixes a sparkly time piece to his coat and then places the watch in his waist coat pocket. picking up his beautiful pimp cane he heads towards the door, he has a quick stretch and clicks his back with a little groan and then reaches for the handle. stepping out onto the street he takes three paces before quietly saying "oh shit", looking over his shoulder and all around him he takes note to see if anyone was looking at him and then throws himself into the most over confident and swaggeristic pimp walk you have ever seen. 

Gerald thinks to himself...."Wonder who ill meet today then!"

​​​​​​​

"Tremz, have you seen Pimp-Gerald lately?" 

He shaked his head and laughed, saying that he was probably taking care of his bitches. No fucking wonder, Mr_Cat thought to himself and rolled his eyes. "I need you to be more specific. He promised to hand in his money today. Where the fuck is he?"

Tremz told him to go to the street corners in Philadelphia. Perhaps his bitches knew about his whereabouts.

Mr_Cat saw all of those poor girls, trying to seduce whoever was coming their way, but people hardly seemed to be interested in them. To be completely honest, they weren't the prettiest girls he had ever seen. They looked like... shit. Like they had seen too much in their awful life. Whatever floats your boat, he then thought and attempted not to think of them.

He passed a large building on his right side when he suddenly heard some weird punching noises and a voice reminding him of Pimp-Gerald. Before long, Mr_Cat was inside and walked up several staircases only to hear some poor girl being beaten. He stood by the door for a while to wait for Gerald's anger to cool down a little. Then it stopped. 

Jumping up onto the handle, he pushed it down and walked inside. There were no girls, only Gerald. And lots of punching bags.

"Where the fuck is my money? You promised me to give them back today!"