Brooklyn Bombshells: Part 1

Chanel rolled her eyes and shook her head—and Claire was supposed to be the smart one. Yeah, right, she thought to herself.

Charlie started to dig in each garbage bag and hand out the goods. The first to get a gift was Bacardi. Charlie tossed her mother a Valentino bag and a leather shearling coat, which was a little too tight on her, but Bacardi didn’t care. She also received some Christian Louboutin shoes—which were a half-size too big—and an Apple watch. There were plenty of oooohs and aaaahs at the start, and it escalated to excited yelling getting louder with each gift presented. Bacardi was over-the-moon. It was becoming the best Christmas ever!

Butch received Christian Louboutin men’s hard bottoms, which fit him perfectly, along with old school Adidas and Puma sweat suits, a cashmere sweater, slacks, and Beats by Dre headphones. Butch right away kicked off his smelly sneakers and put on the expensive shoes, the cashmere sweater, and headphones. He started to slide across the floor trying to balance himself, swirling around like he was a skilled dancer.

“Damn, look at me,” he hollered. “Ooooh watch out now!”

Butch started to dance like he was one of The Temptations, entertaining his family. Even God had to laugh at Butch’s silly antics. Butch behaved like he was a man in his sixties, but everyone loved seeing him this way, funny and affable—because an inebriated Butch was a tolerable Butch.

With her parents’ gifts out of the way, Claire was thirsty to see what her big sis had brought her. She eyed her mother’s red bottoms because she wore a 40 too, and she wanted those same shoes. Claire soon got her wish. Charlie reached into the bag, pulled out the nicest boots Claire had ever seen, and tossed them at her. Claire was flabbergasted. She clutched the boots tightly to her chest and started to scream and run around the house like she had no sense. Joy filled her eyes to the brim.

“Ohmygod, Ohmygod, Ohmygod, I love ’em! Oh shit! I got fuckin’ red bottoms, bitches! I can’t wait to see these hoes start to hate on me out there when they see me rockin’ these,” Claire breathlessly exclaimed.

Everyone laughed. They loved the moment.

Charlie continued with her benevolent nature toward her family. She continued to remove gifts from the bags, handing Claire a mid-length tan mink coat. You would have thought Claire had won the lottery for a billion dollars. She started screaming at the top of her lungs again and shedding tears of joy at the same time. She snatched the coat so quickly from Charlie’s hands that even the Flash couldn’t keep up with her. Claire tried on the coat, and it was a little too big for her, but that was nothing a thick sweater couldn’t fix.

As Claire pranced around the

living room in her new coat, Charlie had one demand for her. “I get to wear it when I want, Claire. And I don’t wanna hear any shit from you, or else I’ll keep it for myself.”

Claire didn’t like the ultimatum, but she agreed to it, for now.

Bacardi started to feel some kind of way. Unable to restrain herself, she spewed, “And where the fuck is my mink coat? I’m the fuckin’ one that gave birth to you.”

Charlie glared at her mother. “Damn, didn’t I give you enough, Bacardi? You got a leather shearling. Why you gotta be such a greedy bitch?”

“I’m sayin’—a mink is always nice to have,” Bacardi retorted.

“Bitch, I just gave you some damn near two-thousand-dollar shoes and then some!”

“But I always wanted a mink.”

“These coats can’t fit you, Bacardi. Damn! Stop being fuckin’ greedy! If one coulda fit you then I woulda blessed you wit’ it.”

And just like that, an argument erupted between Charlie and Bacardi—dysfunctional family at its finest. While the two argued, Chanel stood on the sidelines still waiting her turn to see what her big sister had brought her for Christmas. But leave it to Bacardi to ruin everything.

It took Claire to get between the two ladies before the situation escalated. She shouted, “Can we just all chill and have a nice Christmas for once?”

In the meantime, Butch sat on the couch entertaining himself with his gifts, tuning everything out for the moment.

Bacardi and Charlie fell back from each other and their argument ended, but something Charlie had said caught Claire’s attention. She pivoted toward her sister and asked, “And what do you mean, Charlie? Where did these coats come from? Y’all didn’t buy them for us?”

Charlie frowned. “What’s wit’ the third fuckin’ degree? Y’all some ungrateful muthafuckas in this apartment! Don’t be askin’ me any stupid fuckin’ shit like that! And y’all can either keep the fuckin’ gifts or give ’em the fuck back! Fo’ real.”

While Charlie and Claire went at it, Bacardi took it upon herself to try and squeeze into Claire’s mink coat. Seeing this, Claire immediately attacked her mother and tried to wrestle the coat away from her hands and it ignited a brief tug of war between them.

Bacardi growled, “I just wanted to try it on. Don’t be a selfish fuckin’ bitch, Claire!”

“It won’t fuckin’ fit you! And you gonna ruin it before I can even get to flaunt it outside,” screamed Claire.

Meanwhile, Chanel noticed that two bags were already empty and the last bag almost was. She was going to be last, like always. But Chanel didn’t gripe; she patiently waited her turn to see what Charlie would bless her with this Christmas Day.

Charlie turned to look at Chanel with disgust and reached into the garbage bag and handed her an Amazon Echo Dot and a used laptop. That was it—nothing else came out of the bag. It was the only thing left she had to give Chanel. Chanel stood there feeling her eyes welling up, but she refused to cry. She didn’t want to give Charlie and everyone else that satisfaction. Everyone received fabulous gifts that made them over-the-moon, and she got two less expensive items, and one looked used. Graciously, Chanel said, “Thank you,” to her big sister and decided to excuse herself, leaving the items in the living room.

Charlie grimaced. “Oh, so your black ass just gonna walk out the fuckin’ room and not be fuckin’ grateful for what I got you? And I know you don’t got ya fuckin’ lips poked out, bitch. You lucky you got that shit!” Charlie barked at her sister. She was upset that Chanel hadn’t screamed at the top of her lungs in delight like Claire, Bacardi, and Butch had.

Chanel stopped walking and spun around. “I said ‘thank you,’ Charlie. What more do you want me to say?”