Guest: Forgot to answer you last time. Yes, there will be more Glamorama upcoming. I do have an aged up Lilycoln story done and in my files. I want to wait until January to post it, so look for it then, though possibly a little sooner.

Lincoln Loud spent three days in mental and emotional anguish before breaking down and driving to Taco Timmy's. His knuckles were white on the wheel, his eyes rimmed with dark sleeplessness, and he jumped at every sound, no matter how routine or expected. What he saw earlier that week haunted the chambers of his mind and tortured him every time he closed his lids. It was coming, he knew that, but somehow, he expected it to wait just a little longer, for Leah and Leanne to stay children for a few more years.

He pulled into a slot facing the plate glass window fronting the building. Through the pane, happy diners sat at booths and chowed down on tacos, burritos, and empanadas, their conversation light and happy - the casual chit chat of friends and families without a care and out to lunch. He killed the engine and sat where he was for a long time before getting up and going inside. The smell of Mexican food and the low din of many voices washed over him, and he looked around. As fate would have it, Timmy Taco sat alone at a booth just outside the play area, a bag of McDonald's at his left hand and a Big Mac in front of him. His shoulders were slumped and he paused to suck secret sauce from his finger with an obscene slurp. Lincoln raised his brow and watched the mascot for a moment.

Why not eat the food here?

Not really caring, he made his way across the sticky floor and stopped at the table. TT looked up and him and glowered.

Maybe this was a mistake.

"The fuck does yo ass want?" TT asked. "I'm on break, nigga."

Lincoln took a deep breath. Was he really so desperate that he would come to TT, the gangsta formerly known as Dino, for help?

Yes. Yes he was. "You told me to come here if I needed help with my g-girls," Lincoln stammered.

TT regarded him for a moment, then nodded. He motioned at the empty spot across from him and went back to his food. "Sit."

Lincoln slid into the booth and patiently waited for TT to finish his Big Mac. "Yo daddy still alive?"

"No," Lincoln said, "he died three years ago."

TT hummed. "He leave you that beans and franks recipe?"

"No," Lincoln said and crinkled his nose. He hated that stuff.

Sighing, TT sat back against the vinyl. "The one goddamn thing that man did right, and no one wrote it down? Y'all weak."

Lincoln started to reply, but TT cut him off. "What'chu want? That lil girl tryna kill niggas again?"

"No," Lincoln said heavily, "it's not that, it's.." he trailed off and sniffed wetly.

TT cocked his head. "Nigga, is you cryin? One them girls hit yo ass? You need a safe place to stay the night, mah nigga?"

Lincoln shook his head. "Leah and Leanne have a...a boyfriend….and I caught them...doing things with him."

"What things?" TT demanded.

"Sex," Lincoln said and shivered.

"Oh, hell no," TT said. "Did you whip they asses?"

Again, Lincoln shook his head. "N-No. I mean...t-they're old enough to make their own decisions, I just...I need to -"

He jumped when TT brought his palms down on the table. "Old enough to make they own decisions?" the mascot cried. "Nigga, they's eleven and thirteen. E-LEVEN AND THIR-TEEN. They kids. You serious with this shit, nigga?"

Lincoln opened his mouth, but TT waved his hand. "Look right here, nigga, listen to the sound of my voice. I ain't ever been straighter with someone then I'm bein with'chu. You and yo sistas are fuck-ups. You don't let a couple lil kids make they own decisions, they kids, nigga, kids. Say it with me."

Lincoln swallowed. "K-Kids."

"They need structure and they need discipline. They don't need no glorified yes man masqueradin as a daddy, they need a man. And Lincoln, you ain't no man."

Lincoln winced.

"You need to guide yo kids and tell em what's up, nigga. You can't just let them go fuckin they boyfriend. You tryna let them get pregnant? You really tyna let yo eleven year old and yo thirteen year old get pregnant and ruin they lives?"

"No," Lincoln cried, "I just -"

"Who dis boy is?"

Lincoln sighed. Defending himself would do no good. And maybe TT was right...maybe he really wasn't a man. "Palmer McBride. He was at Leah's party."

The clown seemed to think for a moment. "You mean that lil boy lookin like a mixed race Steve Urkel? His moms got a fat ass. Where he stay at?"

Lincoln blinked in surprise at TT's question. "W-Why?"

"Cuz we gon call on his ass, nigga."

Lincoln's heart dropped into his stomach. "God, no, I don't want to hurt him, just maybe talk to him, like...you know, the you better be good to my little girls speech."

Getting to his feet, the leviathan stared down at Lincoln. "That's what we gon do."

Fifteen minutes later, he and TT stood on Clyde McBride's doorstep. The house, two stories and brick with European style windows, a dark gray slate roof, and ivy growing across the facade, never failed to take Lincoln's breath away. His own home, a one story ranch, paled in comparison, and he had always envied Clyde's home.

The door opened and Clyde appeared, dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt, the cuffs rolled up to expose his hairy forearms and a black tie loosened around his neck. He held a whiskey glass in one hand, ice cubes clinking inside, and a sparkling gold Rolex around his wrist. His normally affable face creased in suspicion when he saw TT. "Yes?" he asked guardedly.

"Social services," TT said, "this a home check, nigga." He started in, but Clyde pointedly blocked the way. Flashing, TT grabbed him by the side of his head and shoved him so hard he lost his footing and slammed against the wall. Lincoln winced, but followed the mascot inside anyway.

Clyde got woozily to his knees. "Penelope! Call the pol -"

The words died on his lips when TT whipped out a chrome plated .45, turned, and aimed it at him.

Sideways.

"Call the what, nigga?" the clown asked.

The color drained from Clyde's face, and he jerked a beseeching look at Lincoln.

Penelope, clad in a pink sweater and black yoga pants, came in from the kitchen. "Did you -?"

TT whipped the gun in her direction, and she jumped back with a cry. "Where yo son is? Me and my nigga gots to speak with his ass."

Penelope's eyes widened in fright. "D-Don't hurt my son," she begged, "please, do -"

"We ain't gon hurt him," TT said, "but we gon hurt you if you keep trippin. Where he at?"

Gulping, Penelope nodded to a hallway, and TT strutted by. "Call the po-leece, and Imma blow his lil head off, feel me?"

"U-Understood."

Keeping his head down and blushing with embarrassment, Lincoln followed TT down the hall to a closed door. TT balled his fist and pounded. "Who is it?" a high, reedy voice replied.

Without answering, TT drew his foot back and kicked the door open in a shower of splintering wood. It slammed against the wall with a sound like Judgement Day and TT went in. Palmer sat at a desk under the window, half turned to face them over his shoulder and looking terrified. TT approached, and the boy jumped to his feet, looking left and right for some route of escape, then leaned fearfully back against the table when TT loomed over him. Palmer flashed a toothy smile, then screamed when TT snatched him by the front of his shirt and lifted him off the floor. The boy's feet kicked in mid air and tiny exclamations burst from his lips.

"You fuckin his daughters, huh?" TT asked.

Horror, and guilt, filled Palmer's eyes. "No!"

"Don't lie to me," TT sneered, "you done fucked em both, didn't you?"

"I swear, I didn't have sexual relations with those women!"

TT pulled his gun out, and Palmer burst into tears. "I did! I did! " he sobbed. "I've engaged in penetrative vaganal intercourse with Leah and Leanne Loud multiple times. I've given both oral sex, I've quote unqote eaten Leanne's ass, I've given Leah anal twicel I even let Leanne tie me up and pretend I'm her victim. Please, God, don't kill me."

Each admission hit Lincoln like a boot to the sternum.

"You think it's funny, huh?" TT roared.

"No!"

"You didn't have to say all that, nigga! You braggin!"

"NO-O-O-OOO!"

TT spun Palmer around to face Lincoln. "Tell this lil nappy headed nigga he best not get them pregnant."

Lincoln licked his lips. "Uh, well, I just…"

"Tell him, nigga!"

Lincoln jumped. "Don't get my daughters pregnant," he blurted.

"Now show him you mean it," TT said, "slap his ass."

Lincoln sputtered. "Uh, no, I -"

TT grabbed Palmer by the back of his head and shoved his face toward Lincoln. "Slap the taste out his mouth or so help me God, Imma do it to you."

Swallowing, Lincoln lifted his hand and brought it down in an arc; his palm connected to Palmer's face with a loud thwack, and the boy let out a moan. TT dropped him to the floor and stood over him. "You heard, nigga? We ain't gon have no teenage pregnancies. You knock one of them little girls up, Imma come here and cut yo dick myself."

Palmer trembled. "You need rubbas, nigga, come see me. You know where I stay."

WIth that, TT spun and marched out of the room, and after a hesitant moment, Lincoln followed. Outside, TT said, "You a special case, nigga. Imma tell you what. Imma teach you how to be a man. Yo daddy dropped the ball but now you hangin with a real nigga."

"I don't think -"

"Shut yo ass up. Lesson one, a real man makes his homey beans and franks as a thank you for handlin his bidness."

"But I don't -"

"You gon learn, now come on. I been cravin that shit for twenty years, nigga."

TT went to the car and Lincoln followed.

He hadn't had beans and franks since he, Lola, and Lana left home nearly fifteen years ago, but he would have it many, many, many times in the future.

And you know what?

He still hated it.

THE END.