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DOPE BOY CHRONICLES – EPISODE #1.38 – ANDRE VERSUS GERALD

Copyright ©2020 by Creole Gaudet. All rights reserved.

No part of this chronicle may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system – except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper – without permission in writing from the publisher, Creole Gaudet.

DOPE BOY CHRONICLES is the continuous, open-ended narrative of a young street hustler, Andre Swain, who has a dream of moving into a downtown high-rise in his home city, Dallas, Texas.

Along the way, he runs into a beautiful girl named Sway, whom he rescues from an abusive pimp called Rosebud.

The two fall in love, and the adventure begins.

HIGHWAY 35 – 11:40 p.m.

Cami, Sway, and I had left the movies and were on our way back to the hotel.

We’d exited 35 at Northwest Highway and were jammed because of road construction, along with an auto accident.

Cami was talking to Sway when I caught a sharp nudge to my ribs. Sway pointed. “That’s him, Andre.” Cami paused, listening. “That’s the truck.”

“Gerald?” I could easily see Smith’s trucking in white letters, just as Sway had described.

“Yes, that’s him.”

I watched as the truck slowed and turned onto Stemmons Trail. “I know where he’s going.” I released my seat belt.

“What are you doing, baby?”

“Here, take my phone and keep it with you. Bring Cami home and stay there with her for thirty minutes.”

“What are you…?”

“Be quiet and listen to me. Do as I say.”

I opened the door. The Lyft driver peeked from the rearview mirror. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, slight change of plans. I just got a text. I have to go and meet my business partners…over there at the Elegante.”

“I can bring you, sir. No problem.”

“It’s okay. By the time you get away from the light. I’ll already be in the conference room.” I looked to Sway. “Leave Cami home and meet me at our special place. Wait for me there.”

“What if you need me…?”

“Just wait, like I said. I’ll be there.” I closed the door and took off.

I’d kept my head lowered, avoiding eye contact and building cameras.

As I approached the turn, I saw the truck parked, idling. Being that this was a rest spot, I knew I had to move quickly.

I walked to his side, looking up. He partly rolled down his window. “Hey, fella. I don’t mean to disturb you…”

He eyed me with caution. “What’s that?”

“I said that I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“What can I do for you?”

I looked both ways. “I’m staying right here at the hotel. The Oyo.”

“Okay?”

“Well, I got a couple girls… That’s if you feel like a little company.”

“What kind of girls? I can find bitches out here for ten dollars.”

“Not like these. Young. A blonde and a brunette.”

“How young?”

“One’s nineteen…”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, and the other one is seventeen.”

“Woo hoo, how much you talking?!”

“I have to get more for that seventeen-year-old because she’s stubborn, you know? For my trouble. I’m trying to break the bitch in tonight… I’m talking too loud. I’m coming around.”

He watched as I crossed the front of his truck. I heard the lock open. With the tail of my shirt, I pulled at the door handle.

I leaned in, eyeing the cabin. “You’re not undercover, are you?”

“Driving a truck, buddy?”

I laughed. “Yeah, they don’t drive trucks. What am I thinking? Most of those dumb fucks wouldn’t even know how.”

“You pimping?”

“That’s what I was born to do. None of them can pull the young bitches like I can. That’s my specialty. I get ’em out of high school, even grade school, when I can. They love me and will do everything I tell ’em.”

“I like them young.”

“I bet you do. What real man don’t like that young, fresh pussy? Especially when they fight back. You got to take it from ’em. They like that.”

He flashed those rotted teeth. “I have to get your number.” He reached for his phone. “What do they call you?”

“Grim Reaper.”

“Grim Reaper?” He laughed. “I see why they listen… With a name like that…?”

The first four shots were to the jaw and temple. He was barely conscious as I dragged him out to the ground below. “You motherfucking pervert.”

“What the…? What’s going on, man? The money’s in my wallet.” He held it out. “Here.”

I took it from him, opening the fold. “What you got in here?” I sifted. “Two…three hundred?”

“Shit, you could have just demanded my money. You didn’t have to punch me out like that.”

“You think this is a robbery?”

“You’re taking my wallet. Looks like a robbery to me.”

“No…” I stood, towering over him. “I’m going to tell you a story.”

“A fucking story? I don’t want to hear no fucking story. You got what you wanted. Now get out of here before I get up and kick your ass, you black motherfucker.”

“The story is about a young virgin that you met at the Delux Inn. Her name was Sway.”

“Fuck you, man!”

“Fuck me?”

“Yeah, I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

I began kicking him repeatedly to the gut and to the ribs. I stomped and mashed his head and face into the tall grass.

“Okay, okay. Please don’t kill me, mister. I know who you’re talking about. I don’t know what she is to you or what, but she has a pimp. That ugly bitch Mandy turned me on to her.”

“So it’s Mandy’s fault you raped a young girl? A virgin?”

“I didn’t drag the bitch there. If not me, it would have been the next guy.”

I grabbed his beard with my left hand, lining him up, and punched him flush to the face with my right, shattering his nose into pieces.

Creole Gaudet

If you enjoyed this content, head over to my store and check out my titles, TRUE MEMOIRS OF A LIBERTINE and RAINSTORM. Feeling generous? Consider leaving a tip in my Cash App or Venmo. Thank you!

Want to see all the latest stories, posts from LIBERTINE DREAMS, and episodes of DOPE BOY CHRONICLES? Become a member at Patreon.

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DOPE BOY CHRONICLES – EPISODE #1.3 – MEET SWAY

Copyright ©2020 by Creole Gaudet. All rights reserved.

No part of this chronicle may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system – except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper – without permission in writing from the publisher, Creole Gaudet.

DOPE BOY CHRONICLES is the continuous, open-ended narrative of a young street hustler, Andre Swain, who has a dream of moving into a downtown high-rise in his home city, Dallas, Texas.

Along the way, he runs into a beautiful girl named Sway, whom he rescues from an abusive pimp called Rosebud.

The two fall in love, and the adventure begins.

JANUARY 25, 2020

MEET UP – MAMA’S DAUGHTERS PARKING LOT ACROSS FROM THE DELUX INN – 1:26 p.m.

Mandy, a pug-nosed, pale-skinned brunette Oompa Loompa, is the bottom bitch for a gorilla named Rosebud.

She was doing incalls at her favorite haunt, the Delux Inn, when she’d hit me up for a hundred sack.

As usual, I’d parked across the street at Mama’s Daughter’s parking lot.

A minute hadn’t gone by when I’d spotted her coming down the stairs from a second-level room near the front of the court, overlooking Royal Lane.

This time, she wasn’t alone. There was a sweet-looking girl close to her side. I sat up, stiffening in my seat as they made their approach.

Mandy rested her elbows across the frame of the passenger door. “What’s up, Andre?” She handed me a roll of twenties.

“It’s all good.” She dug into her bra, snugging the coke under her left tit. “Who do you have with you?”

Mandy turned, fingering the side of her bob, pulling the locks behind her ear. “This is my new young one, Sway.”

Sway stepped forward. “Hi.”

She was absolutely beautiful. Thin with light brown shoulder-length hair. Her silver eyes sat under natural, model-like eyebrows. Below her pointed, turned-up nose were a pair of red, pouty lips. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you… I like your car. Can I sit in it?” She searched for the handle.

“Sure!” I reached, thumbing the release, letting her in.

Mandy was hesitant. “Don’t be long. We have to get back, okay?” She did a three-sixty, scanning before traipsing away.

Sway eyed the cabin, lightly touching the knobs and buttons. She then looked to me. We locked in a stare.

Sway leaned, running her hand up my inner thigh. She unzipped and released me, placing gentle kisses to my chest and torso before taking me deep into her warm mouth. I didn’t last.

She quickly held open her hand, holding it high.

“What?”

“A twenty.”

“Bitch, I didn’t tell you I was some trick!” Sway frowned, looking out her window. Mandy was at the edge of the lot, waiting, watching. I muttered, “Ah, okay.” I placed a forty into her palm. “Now get the fuck out of my car, bitch!”

She did her best, face wrestling with the smirk tugging at the side of her cheek. She stepped out, closed my door, and hotfooted away.

Later that evening, I got a call from Mandy’s phone. I answered. “You need more already?”

“This is Sway.”

“Hey, Sway… Where’s Mandy?”

“In the room, turning a trick.”

“Oh, okay… So, what’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk to me? About what?”

“Well… I don’t know how to say this… I, I can’t get you out of my head… And I… It’s like I feel ashamed, but I feel good too.”

“What does that mean?”

“I feel ashamed for sucking your dick like that…but I didn’t think that I would ever see you again… It’s like I wanted to please you… To be a part of you as soon as I saw you…”

“You didn’t really want the coke, did you?”

“No, I don’t do it… Andre… This may sound crazy, but I can’t stop thinking about… I know you probably believe I’m running game, but I’m not. There’s something special about you. I can feel it.

“I just wish that we’d met under different circumstances, you know? I think that we could have had something real. That’s if you would have wanted me…”

“I sensed the same thing about you, too. That there was something special. I was wondering why is such a beautiful girl not with me? Any guy would be lucky to have you in his life.”

“You mean that, Andre?”

“Yes, I mean it. Real talk.”

“That’s exactly what I needed to hear. I just knew you’d know what to say. You’ve reminded me of who I was; who I used to be… You’ve given me life. Because of your words, I now know that I can love and be loved again.

“You know, I didn’t choose this. Mandy and Rosebud got me out here…”

“You were a turnout?”

“But I’m done.”

“You’re talking about right now?”

“Yes. I’m leaving.”

“You’re serious? What’s your plan?”

“I don’t have a plan. I just know I have to leave, and whatever happens, happens. I’m not scared.”

“Where are you going to stay? Do you have any money?”

“I stole some from Mandy. I can catch a room for a few days until I figure something out.”

“Then what?”

“If I have to, I still have customers…”

“And be independent? These pimps out here will eat you alive.”

“Can you protect me? I’ll give you half of everything. I promise. I’ll do right by you.”

“I’m not a pimp, Sway. That’s not my hustle. I’m just a dope boy and nothing else.”

“I understand…”

“What about your family?”

“Rosebud and Mandy…”

“They exposed you?” Sway broke into tears. “Come on, baby. Don’t cry.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put this on you. I only wanted to talk to you. I swear.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I tell you what. Come stay at my place. Hang out until you get your shit together.”

“You would do that for me?”

“You said you like me, right?”

“Yes! I do!”

“Well, I got you. Meet me down the road at the Race Track. Do you know where it is?”

“I do.”

“Get there as quick as you can. Don’t even look back. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Thank you, Andre. You won’t be sorry. I promise you.”

“Go!”


Creole Gaudet

If you enjoyed this content, head over to my store and check out my titles, TRUE MEMOIRS OF A LIBERTINE and RAINSTORM. Feeling generous? Consider leaving a tip in my Cash App or Venmo. Thank you!

Want to see all the latest stories, posts from LIBERTINE DREAMS, and episodes of DOPE BOY CHRONICLES? Become a member at Patreon.

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MY TIME AS AN UBER DRIVER – CRUSTY, CRUNCHY, CALCIFIED, COOCHIE CATAPILAR CORPSE, NOT TO BE SCRATCHED AND SNIFFED

Copyright ©2024 by Creole Gaudet. All rights reserved.

No part of this episode may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system – except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper – without permission in writing from the publisher, Creole Gaudet.

After stepping away and dedicating more than a decade, strictly and exclusively to my art, can I once again live my life as a libertine? Are my frequent and unrelenting bouts of nostalgia as I reminisce, longing for my younger years, just simply a mid-life crisis or a clarion call? Can I make my libertine dreams a reality?

Follow along with me on an all-access, fun-filled, no-holds-barred journey filled with stories, tell-alls, tales, failures, successes, and progress updates as I climb my way back.

The events as told, views, and opinions within Libertine Dreams are those of the author and make no guarantees or promises regarding the accuracy, reliability, or completeness of the information presented. It is solely for entertainment purposes.

Originally posted July 30th, 2025 on my Patreon page.

After my previous posts about my miserable job and all the details, you’ve probably figured out that it’s a rideshare gig, gig.

For the most part, it’s a pretty cool way to earn a living. You work your own schedule. You drive when and how long you want, as long as it isn’t more than 12 hours straight without a 6-hour break.

They want to make sure that you’re not out on the road too long. Fatigue can catch up to you quickly.

Feeling sick? There is no set number of days you must work. You can not drive for a year and just pick up where you left off.

You meet lots of people. Not only that, you interact, converse, listen to, and sometimes even make friends with them.

However, not all riders are good riders. Even though the company tries to match you with riders of similar ratings, you will sometimes run into someone who will ruin your day.

That’s why it’s very important to check their rating before automatically accepting the ride. Even a few ticks below a perfect 5.0, say a 4.7, can make you want to quit for the rest of the day, go home, and watch the TV.

Case in point. I often pick up working girls who are headed to or are returning to their hotels from the track. If you’re not familiar with the term “working girl”, give Google a shot.

Oftentimes, weather permitting, they are dressed in no more than a see-through top, a thong, and a pair of stilettos.

This particular time, a young lady left behind a little something for me to clean up.

I don’t know if she was excited to go to work or maybe had just completed a “consultation” with a client, but her nasty ass left a mess that will forever be in my memory.

This was totally disgusting and cost me a couple of hours of work to have this professionally removed.

I specifically avoid closing time to make sure that I’m not picking up someone who cannot hold their liquor or bladder…or bowels. But I was never prepared for this.

And to top it off, after picking up about 500 to 600 working girls in the past year and five months I’ve been driving, I have yet to receive a tip from any one of them.

It’s like it’s against their religion to drop the driver a buck or two.

Creole Gaudet

If you enjoyed this content, head over to my store and check out my titles, TRUE MEMOIRS OF A LIBERTINE and RAINSTORM. Feeling generous? Consider leaving a tip in my Cash App or Venmo. Thank you.

Want to see all the latest stories, posts from LIBERTINE DREAMS, and episodes of DOPE BOY CHRONICLES? Become a member at Patreon.

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CATHY AND THE GAMEROOM

Copyright ©2024 by Creole Gaudet. All rights reserved.

No part of this episode may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system – except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper – without permission in writing from the publisher, Creole Gaudet.

After stepping away and dedicating more than a decade, strictly and exclusively to my art, can I once again live my life as a libertine? Are my frequent and unrelenting bouts of nostalgia as I reminisce, longing for my younger years, just simply a mid-life crisis or a clarion call? Can I make my libertine dreams a reality?

Follow along with me on an all-access, fun-filled, no-holds-barred journey filled with stories, tell-alls, tales, failures, successes, and progress updates as I climb my way back.

The events as told, views, and opinions within Libertine Dreams are those of the author and make no guarantees or promises regarding the accuracy, reliability, or completeness of the information presented. It is solely for entertainment purposes.

Originally published June 17th, 2024, on my Patreon page.

About a month ago, I met a woman named Cathy.

Cathy is blonde, mature, full-figured, and very attractive with a pair of titties that she continually struggles with to keep them from bursting through whatever she’s wearing. When they’re natural, I guess they do whatever they want.

During our conversations, I found out that Cathy was a mover, shaker, and a hustler who was well-connected with the street culture here in Dallas. She knows how to survive, and she’s already helping me on my journey to independence.

She hit me up last night to come and hang out with her at a couple of the game rooms. She wanted to play and also to allow me to acclimate myself to the scene.

I’d never actually been inside any of them.

Mind you, these places are notorious for getting robbed. Out in Fort Worth, five masked guys with guns came in blasting and robbed each patron. They even assaulted a few, who were fetally curled on the floor, with punches and kicks.

Her $20.00 was matched by the house with another $20.00 for a total of $40.00 to play. Cathy explained that you must win at least double that amount before you can cash out.

It wasn’t a problem, though. She’d sat me next to her, and I watched her play some form of roulette as she built her winnings up to a little over $200.00 before calling it.

Most gamblers would have continued and eventually lost their earnings, but Cathy knows how to win.

We’d left there and driven to a couple of other game rooms, but, judging by the parking lots, they’d seemed to be empty. She’d told me that Mondays are usually slow.

We’d then decided to hang out and just drive around the city for a while until one of her associates sent her a text, looking for some “girl”. Through one of my sources, I was able to put that together for her and put a few dollars into my pocket, too.

Cathy is a keeper.

Creole Gaudet

If you enjoyed this content, head over to my store and check out my titles, TRUE MEMOIRS OF A LIBERTINE and RAINSTORM. Feeling generous? Consider leaving a tip in my Cash App or Venmo. Thank you.

Want to see all the latest stories, posts from LIBERTINE DREAMS, and episodes of DOPE BOY CHRONICLES? Become a member at Patreon.

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WHY DOES YOUR WOMAN WALK ALL OVER YOU?

Copyright ©2012 by Creole Gaudet. All rights reserved
No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system – except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper – without permission in writing from the publisher, Creole Gaudet.

Stories based on my life experiences and from my imagination of love, relationships, betrayal, and vengeance that you will no doubt enjoy.

Do you ever wonder what happened to that kind, gentle, and loving soul that you met a year and a half ago?

Who is this volatile she-devil that’s turned your life into a nightmare? How did you get here?

Manipulative women are clever, but they can only do what you allow them to do.

They won’t do anything extreme in the beginning for fear of losing you or the repercussions and legal trouble that may follow if you were to get the authorities involved. No, they take their time to feel you out first, see how their work is cut out for them.

But it’s up to you to see the signs.

Sometimes they’re subtle, but they’re always there. And by all means, you must address them right away.

If not, she will eat at you nibble by nibble until she’s taking big chunky bites at a time.
Think of the frog in the boiling water. Only in this scenario, she’s controlling the flame.

Meet Melvin.

Melvin was a chubby, bifocaled, late twenties office worker type who lived with his wife in the apartment below me.

He was easy-going and quiet, never uttering a syllable over sixty-five decibels.

He used public transportation, electing to leave the SUV at home for his wife, and would make the daily trek to the bus stop on foot. With his navy blue business suit, a brief case in one hand and his paper sack lunch in the other, even from a block away, you could see that Melvin was a soft touch.

Now, as passive as Melvin was, his wife was just the opposite.

She was an imposing woman with a thunderous voice, a built-in frown, and the broad shoulders of a Samoan professional wrestler.

One night, I was at home having a romantic dinner with a brand new girlfriend. We were staring into each other’s eyes as our lips closed in for our very first kiss.

But the moment was interrupted. “Melvin!” The shout was as clear as if it were just outside my door.

We then took to the sofa, where I explained to her that Melvin was this very nice gentleman whose wife verbally abused him. She was visibly upset as I told her about his work ethic, how he’d arrived home in the evenings just as predictably and timely as he’d left in the mornings.

We both agreed that he was underappreciated, with her wanting to go down and have a conversation with Melvin’s wife. I told her how sweet I thought her intentions were, but I also had to impress upon her how big a mistake that would have been.

There was nothing that she or I could do for Melvin. He was defeated, spineless, and emasculated.

So, how did this happen to Melvin?

As I said, it’s gradual. It doesn’t happen overnight. They hold back that aggressiveness and ease you into it with a continuous dose of mental mind-screwing that’s sure to keep you demented, deranged, and confused.

During a debate or argument, does your woman let you get a word in?

Does she spin the conversation to avoid answering your questions?

Do you get to question her?

Is it a problem when you want to do something with the guys or go somewhere alone?

Does she wait until you’re already dressed and walking out the door before she demands that you call the guys and cancel? Then, and only when she gets her way, does she reward you with sex?

The crying, the happiness, the drama, the anger, the smiling, the frowning, and the self-pity are all theater. It’s manipulation.

If it’s something legitimately mental and she’s truly that unstable, she needs the help of a professional, and there’s nothing you can do for her anyway.

Was this ever you?

“Honey, do you need me to get anything for you before I jump in the shower?” Of course, she’s not even looking you in the eyes while lying in bed, reading and eating chocolates. You’re still standing there with the towels in your hand, waiting for an answer. “Hon?”

“What?!” She screams, peppering you with indignation as she slams the magazine onto her lap. “Can’t you fucking see I’m busy?”

You lower your tone. “I was just asking if you needed me to do anything for you before I hop in the shower right quick…I won’t be long.”

She ignores you, raising the book in front of her face. You then sulk away, but before you can get your hand on the doorknob, she wants a glass of ice water.

Of course, you hustle for it without delay.

You bring it back to her with a folded paper napkin wrapped around it, just the way she likes it.

As you place it onto the nightstand, she thanks you for being so considerate, but lets you know that you smell like fresh dog shit. However, you’re so used to the deadpanned, backhanded insults, you don’t even respond.

You turn on the water and undress. You stand, looking at yourself in the mirror. What was once a toned and defined physique is now average at best.

You blow it off and step under the soothing spray. As you lather yourself, you think back to how the two of you would have sex two, and sometimes three times a day.

You consider squeezing one off, but you don’t want to be completely drained in case tonight’s your lucky night.

But don’t worry, you’ll be losing your sex drive soon anyway. Your erections will begin to decrease in rigidity, and your balls will shrink to half their size.

She will have broken you down to the molecular level, controlling each and every moment of your life.

She’ll be riding you from the time you wake in the morning until the time you close your eyes at night.

Is that any way to live?

Now that she’s squeezed the last drop of masculinity from you, her goal will be accomplished, and she will then get bored.

And don’t you worry your pretty little head; she won’t dump you just yet. No, she has to find a replacement first.

Of course, you’ll be the current topic among her girlfriends. They already know how much of a weakling you are, and they revel in how she masterfully, systemically, consistently, and with precision destroyed you.

So what do you do? Do you wait for the inevitable, or do you make your move?

Obviously, the relationship can’t be saved because she absolutely has no respect for you.

And no amount of couples therapy or anything you could possibly do is going to change that.

No, sir, it’s time to claim back your manhood. It’s time to cut your losses and move on, champ.

Now, don’t go rushing in with a head full of steam. You have to carefully plan an exit strategy.

This is one thing that men don’t usually do well.

When a woman leaves a man, she will have already searched and found a new place, paying the rent from a separate bank account that you knew nothing about.

And it will be together too. Have you ever seen a woman move into an unfurnished or empty apartment? Of course not.

Where did all those dishes, pots, and silverware come from?

How about all the pretty bathroom decorations or the bedroom sheets, comforter with the matching curtains?

Women plan. But we as men end up on our brother’s or sister’s couch for a month or two before we can even get on our feet.

Take your time and prepare before making your move. It would also behoove you to leave when she’s out with those girlfriends of hers.

Just think about how awesome it would be to have them drop her off at home, only to find that you’ve dumped her ass.

And no, you’re not being a coward. You’re using common sense because you know she would never in a million years sit quietly and let you walk out of her life. This would be a win for you, and she’s not going to let you have it. It will no doubt be a confrontation.

Get out of there as quickly as you can, and if you must say something, leave her a nice little note telling her that you wish her the best in all her endeavors.

I never knew what happened to Melvin, but I did see his wife many years later. She was with a girlfriend of hers in the shopping mall, and I just could not help but make mention that I was once her upstairs neighbor.

I let her in on the fact that I could hear her yelling his name through my floor.

She gave an embarrassing smile while dipping her head in playful shame.

She introduced herself as Ann. Even though she was smiling now, I finally had a name to go with that frown.

Ann didn’t say anything about Melvin or whether they were still married or not.

I didn’t see a ring on her finger, so perhaps she’d learned a lesson.

Maybe Melvin picked up some self-esteem he may have had left and moved on.

Maybe he found someone with whom he was more compatible.

Someone who could recognize him for who he was, the quiet, chubby, bifocaled office worker type that needed to be treated like a human being.

Creole Gaudet

If you enjoyed this content, head over to my store and check out my titles, TRUE MEMOIRS OF A LIBERTINE and RAINSTORM. Feeling generous? Consider leaving a tip in my CashApp or Venmo. Thank you.

Want to see all the latest stories, posts from LIBERTINE DREAMS, and episodes of DOPE BOY CHRONICLES? Become a member at Patreon.

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DOPE BOY CHRONICLES – EPISODE #1.2 – DAN

Copyright ©2020 by Creole Gaudet. All rights reserved.

No part of this chronicle may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system – except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper – without permission in writing from the publisher, Creole Gaudet.

DOPE BOY CHRONICLES is the continuous, open-ended narrative of a young street hustler, Andre Swain, who has a dream of moving into a downtown high-rise in his home city, Dallas, Texas.

Along the way, he runs into a beautiful girl named Sway, whom he rescues from an abusive pimp called Rosebud.

The two fall in love, and the adventure begins.

JANUARY 24, 2020

MEET UP – GAS STATION – NORTHWEST HIGHWAY – 3:42 p.m.

I’d met with Dan, a regular who I was introduced to by a bartender at The Gentleman’s Club for a hundo.

Dan is a tall, middle-aged blue-blood from Boston. His being raised in wealth has him so out of touch that he’s totally unaware of his surroundings.

Several times, I’ve seen him walk into a convenience store, hit the ATM, and return to his running Ferrari that he’d left with his house keys and wallet resting in plain view on the passenger seat.
His timing is always off, too. If he says he’ll be at a meet-up in fifteen minutes, it’ll probably be more like twenty or twenty-five, leaving me sitting and waiting with a pocket full of sizzle.

If that isn’t bad enough, once he arrives, he’ll usually pull up right next to me with cash in hand, his top down, music blasting, and revving his engine.

For Dan, I only carry exactly what I have for him and no more.

I keep a stack of free door passes from Gold Town in my center console. That’s my line in case we’re ever questioned by the laws.

GOLD TOWN CABARET – 4:27 p.m.

As soon as I’d walked in, I got the news that Robbie, a past-her-prime stripper whom I’d met through the DJ, Romero, had been fired.

Robbie was unkempt, toned but not shapely, and never wore makeup. Her red hair was wild and big, and when fucked up, she would continually whip it from one side to the other.

She had a nice little side hustle going where she’d score from me and peddle to the girls and customers, taxing them for personal profit. I really didn’t care because it kept the heat off.

Robbie’s also a professional couch surfer and was staying with a club member named James. James is older, about sixty, and very polite; a real gentleman. I’d shot pool with him a couple of times prior to my introduction to Robbie.

She’d exposed him, telling me how he owned a business where he’d collect quarterly payments of five million dollars, how he liked to entertain young girls at his downtown apartment, and that he loved my coke.

However, James must have had enough of Robbie because he’d kicked her out of his place, and she was now living in the Design District with an associate of his.

This guy was also a partier. I’d get calls from Robbie around the clock for no less than two hundred a trip, plus tip.

I moved a few pieces, a couple hundred bags, and four forty sacks before calling it.

HOME – 10:12 p.m.

I’d left for Cinepolis to see “The Gentlemen”.

HOME – 4:46 a.m.

Demi dropped by for a forty.

Creole Gaudet

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GIRL 214

“Tiffany, a young girl with a tremendous singing talent, is lured away from her high school sweetheart into the world of street prostitution by a charismatic pimp.”

Creole Gaudet IMDb

Girl 214 is my first feature movie project. Self-funded, produced and directed.

I wrote the screenplay several years ago, and I’ve been chipping away at it ever since.

It’s a Dallas story, and I’d moved up there for a few years to capture all my establishing shots and most of my B-roll. I’ll more than likely have to go back for a shot here or there but I’m confident that I have enough coverage to complete it here in New Orleans.

While there in Dallas, I walked the streets to get a feel for the city’s vibe and its culture. That helped tremendously and allowed me to revise my script so that I could come to a more accurate representation with my presentation.

There’s nothing better than having your feet on the ground where you can see, taste, smell, hear and see a city. That’s the only way it will reveal itself. You must be where it is.

I knew it would be a long journey, and I’m okay with where I’m at so far; however, I’m in the process of stepping it up a bit. It’s time to get that ball rolling again.

The great thing is that, unlike Dallas, here in New Orleans, there’s already a well-established film community in place, with plenty of resources and talented actors ready for an opportunity. Being a native also gives me an advantage in that I can call on all my friends for favors and help. Believe me, I intend to exploit each and every one of them to exhaustion.

I may not have any friends after this. Ha! Stay tuned.

Creole Gaudet

If you enjoyed this content, head over to my store and check out my titles, TRUE MEMOIRS OF A LIBERTINE and RAINSTORM. Feeling generous? Consider leaving a tip in my Cash App or Venmo. Thank you.