Everyone is quiet as D'Angelo schools them: "Yo, out near the County, right, on the high end of the Eastside? They got these apartments out there, right? So there was this little shorty who used to stay out there. She was like [appreciative exhale]. I mean, I ain't seen a female that right since. I gotta say, shorty was right." Except he says it with, like, seven "T"s. "You fucked her?" says Wallace, not that impressed so far. "Naw, man, it wasn't like that," says D'Angelo. "This was a shorty my uncle was messing with. They was going on at it for a little while, 'til she find out that my uncle got another little shorty 'round the way. More right to say he got a few of them around the way, know what I'm saying?" Bodie regards D'Angelo, possibly with a little respect percolating. D'Angelo goes on: "So she goes off the hook and shit, talking about she going to call the police, talking about shit she ain't supposed to know about." "Ohhhh, shit," says Poot, seeing where this is probably going. "Yeah, you know it," says D'Angelo. "But see, I got some creep to me, and my uncle -- he know that shit. So they roll me out past her crib. And they show me how she lives right on the ground floor, right? First level. So, you know. I go creeping around the back, to the back window. I got the .45 on me, the big gun. I walk up to the window and I look in, and it's dark as shit, 'cause it's, like, 3 o'clock in the damn morning and shit, you know -- you can't see shit." Wallace asks what he did. D'Angelo: "So I pulled out the piece, and I start tapping with the back of it on the window. And it was quiet, but it was loud enough so she can hear that shit. Tap, tap, tap. That's what she heard, yo. Sure enough, she comes out. She's naked and shit. I don't know why the fuck, but she has a robe, and as she slipping on her robe, she turns on the light, and you know, when she does that, and it's light on the inside, she can't see shit on the outside." "Damn, she naked," says Bodie, who apparently has lost the thread. D'Angelo stares into the middle distance, right back at that moment in his mind: "Tap, tap, tap. She hear that shit on the window and she ain't got no choice but to walk over there and see what it is. She steps up, looks out, see where it's coming from." Everyone looks at D'Angelo, rapt. He is silent, and Bodie flaps his arms: "What happened?" D'Angelo still says nothing, and Wallace, like Bodie's a total moron, shrugs, "He shot her," spreading his hands in a "like, duh" gesture. D'Angelo cuts his eyes at Bodie, who can say nothing. Poot asks, "Yo, Dee -- if she was all that, why didn't you fuck her first?" Wallace, the conscience of the group, says Poot's question is "sick." "What? I'm just saying," Poot protests. D'Angelo and Bodie are still staring at each other. Looks like D'Angelo wins the dick contest, for now.