Alvin goes bald

in the beginning, there was nothing

The view of New York City became a regular pleasantry for the rich ceo and economic Icon, Alonzo sims, but his friends called him Alg. He tightened the white, silk strings of his robe. He always pauses to view the sparkling city below him, it grounds him, reminds him where he is. That sort of thing would only make sense in his mind. He casually saunters over to his fine white Italian leather couch, dark wine in his hand, sliding around his glass. He tries to change the soft RnB record to a smooth jazz one but fumbles a little as he's a little bit tipsy. The dimmed lights didn't help. Giving his living room a soft golden glow. He falls into place on his couch.

He leans forward to reach for his diamond encrusted tv remote as the sudden melody of "The Box" by roddy rich alerted him to his iPhone xL giga pussy phone with retractable blunts. He motions to his butler, Randy Butternubs, to pick it up. While his other butler, J. Sanders, who is donning balenciaga obsodian gloves, picks up his face, and finally, his 3rd butler, Jenny Quackles moves his face in front of his phone for the facial recognition. J. Sanders manipulates his pointer finger forward to press accept the call. It was none other than the most mouth watering, tantalizing, bangin body hot tamale havin babe on the planet, Chriggyping. "ALVIN THEY SHOT MIA KHALIFA!"

She screamed, peaking his mic and giving his 4th butler, Bertram Winkle, a heart aneurism, dying at the old age of 25 after a long career of working the corner. Chrippone always found a way to be the barrer of heinous, deplorable news. Today was no exception, just like the night that Playboi carti hung himself on the tonight show or that time approximately 52,000 african jungle hut huddlers gathered to riot about banana prices and were struck down by white Jesus's angelic profits of the law. Alvin smiled at the thought. Then, he realized that he was just sitting there in silence as he was thinking these things. He then realized he was staring into nothing and drooling. He also realized he shat his pants. "Hello?? "Helloooo?!" "Did yo funky ran through retired stripper, flea from tuff puppy lookin, sweaty silverback gorilla built body, dirt neck deflated bbl havin ass, shard in yo beer stained drawls again u slimy filthy flea infested bitch ass maggot?" Alvin snapped out of it and turned to his phone in shock. His butlers have been trained to remain still and professional his whole life due to his mother and father beating them with a cattle prod if they failed to do so. Which resulted in the 3 smiling through the pain as the smell radiated all through the room and wafted through the vents- killing 7 of his neighbors( Landlord included even though that filthy bastard stole knickles and toothbrushes from the localHe childrens hospital for years and deserved it. His name was lil baby btw.) Alvin knew he had a conference call with Kim Kardashian about redesigning the charmin ultra strong shit bears, so he had to cut this convo with his colleague short. "I gotta scratch my balls" he says as J. Sanders hangs up the phone.

The meeting goes about as well as you'd expect. Alonzo was used to getting his way. Being able to slowly coax people along with his words gently or forcefully if he had to. He checks his reflection in his phone camera, the man he saw staring back at him was irresistibly sexy, he felt as if he could kiss the man. He was nothing like the stripper, living paycheck to paycheck, saving his food stamps for rainy days, huddling his rats to form a mattress and sautéing the cockroaches that followed him home. The doors to his favorite cafe Sierras chime to alert at his arrival, before quickly falling of the hinges and rolling in the wind. His eyes scan the small restaurant with precision until he sees his favorite spot is empty. A booth by the third window. He hurriedly slinks down in the familiar seat. He sighs with a bit of a groan as he relaxes, putting his feet up. Closing his eyes. "Damn bitch y yo damn pavement punishers on my mf table, have some class you common whore." The server says looking down at his notepad. When they lift their eyes to meet the gaze of the absolute Harlet assaulting the fine mahogany, his face went pale.( jk he's a darkie) Alvin glared down on him with his lip curled in disgust like a worm he found on the sidewalk. The server was now shaking. He somehow had no idea that he was looking in the face of  THE  Alvin Alonzo Sims, multi billionaire and founder of the Gritty Committee. and pussy. Alvin simply looked back at the youth with disdain veiled in uninterest. "State your name." Alvin said sternly, almost giving the gay ass server a heart attack. "D-Dalin" "Dalin Tyrique Davis" "I see." Is all the teen got back from the man. Alvin grinned. He was about to end this lowdown glizzy guzzlers career. He was about to utter the most devastating set of words ever put into sentence inhuman history when a violent shout practically snapped all of the customers necks. "GET DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW!" The hooded and masked figure fires a few rounds into the ceiling. There were screams of unadulterated terror ringing all through out the building. Dalin tearfully got down and busted a move. Breakdancing in agony. Alvin was the only one who seemed to not be panicking. It was worse than when he saw Stevie wonders lace fly off on live television. He then remembers it stayed off- bc ofc- Stevie couldn't find it....bc he cant see....bc that niggas blind. Alvin made a lot of stupid ass decisions in his life. But what he just rose out his booth to go do had to be the stupidest. And it costed him everything.

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the niggas bald now

this what used to look like