Infinitely Retarded: Thundercock: The Tranny Hooker Eddie Can't Get Enough Of

The street glittered in the rain. It sucked moisture and spit it out as the four wheels of a car ran parallels through the streets. Burn Rubber. SHWWHSSH. The downpour hammered cold, and in response the streets had been abandoned for the warmth of the dry indoors; the hookers and drug dealers that had made the area so unpopular were nowhere to be seen. All life had been drowned that night.

The only exception was that damn car, its bright eyes illuminating nothing but wet.

It slowed, the driver behind the wheel swiveling his head about, as if looking for something. Alleyways were home to only dumpsters and trash--dripping wet--sidewalks were void of any life, as not even the rats dared to venture out into the open to nibble on soggy food discarded like yesterdays newspaper. His hands pawed at the glass in a vain attempt to rid it of all this damn steam.

Find her.
Find him.
Find it.

The usual spots were unoccupied. Still the car rolled casually about the boulevard, the driver behind the wheel becoming more and more anxious with each passing second. The dreary rain lulled him, and in his brain bubbled memories of a distant past:

Not a lot of time... don't waste it watching this movie.

Must'n waist a second. Yet, all this damn rain.

Finally the car stopped. The window rolled down, crying tears. The object of the driver's obsession had been found: a forty something transvestite hooker host to a multitude of debilitating diseases (though well hid when on the job.) She had taken shelter under a dripping eave, and although she had been well protected, the rain had taken her makeup and smeared it all about her face. Big brown eyes dripped black mascara, her lips curled red at the corners, and colors gathered about her chin and massive Adam's apple, a wet clown who seemed tired of all the damn tricks.

"Hey Thundercock!"

She came over, her heels clicking in the street. It was a casual walk despite the rain. A well trained and tired walk. She covered her head with a soggy newspaper. From her lips dangled a cigarette spewing grey smoke about her face.

"You a cop?" She asked coyly. Her breath carried a hint of whiskey. She looked around.

"What? No. . . Remember baby, it's me."

She brought her face down to the tinted window for a better look, revealing a face riddled with age lines and years of living a weary life. Her face seemed to be in a perpetual smirk curled up with a hint of sadness she could never quite get rid of.

"I been thinking a lot about you lately. I see you still got that bird in the bush." He said, eying the bulge between Thundercock's legs. Again, she leaned closer for another look. She eyed a set of pearly white teeth set in a Cheshire's grin. He was smiling wide, and soon his mouth opened and out came the unmistakable laughter of Eddie Murphy.

"Eddie Murphy?" She asked.

"Shhh." He looked around, cautious despite the empty street. "It's Professor Klump." Apparently before The Nutty Professor was shamelessly conceived as a remake, Professor Sherman Klump was Eddie Murphy's pseudonym when picking up hookers. "You remember, don't you?"

Eddie Murphy/Thundercock dolls: scaring children since their inception.

She did remember. It was a cold night and she was younger then, and much prettier, before the booze and the beatings. She was more well known, and could pull in a thousand dollars easy. There was never a dick that didn't want Thundercock, the name alone enticing rumblings amongst the perverts and sexually repressed.

At the time she frequented Santa Monica Boulevard, in an area known for homosexual prostitution, and quite frankly she was the best. She remembered she was wearing her favorite hot pink dress, one which accentuated her assets and allowed a bit of dick to peek through at the bottom. It made her noticeable, and easy to find, and she liked that. She liked that very much.

Eddie had rolled up in a SUV (which turned out to be his wife's) with a wad of cash in his lap and a proposition that involved a handful of lube and some lingerie. She had gotten in the car and they had driven off. Yet no money could be exchanged for sexual acts, for before they reached their destination, Eddie had managed to attract the attention of the police, red and blue flashing lights in the rear view. They were pulled over, and the cops had a nice chat with Mr. Murphy, even going so far as to ask for autographs. Eddie had claimed that he had no idea who she was, and was merely trying to be a good samaratin by giving a lovely young lady a ride home.

Thundercock was of course arrested.

"Oh hell no!" She said, stomping her cigarette out with the heel of her stilletos. "I don't feel like getting arrested, you attract cops like shit attracts flies." She was determined to not get in the car with Eddie Murphy, and after a few minutes of begging and flashes of money, he slowly drove off.

She was just beginning to light another cigarette when he showed up again.

"Hey Thundercock! Come on baby!" Eddie said, throwing in his signature laugh. "Awww come on. Don't you realize you're the one that got away? I've been with Bobbi Boulders, Sapphire, Lady Bulge, Lady Dick, Betty Balls, Sugar Plums--I've been with em' all. I just need you and I can say I've been with all the best this side of the Rocky Mountains."

It had been a slow night. There was no getting around it, and although she didn't like the idea of another night in the clinker, she really didn't know how to do anything else but turn tricks. She also was quite competitive, and didn't like the idea of being outdone by anyone, especially Betty Balls, whom she had had a scuffle with at a seedy bar years ago. Eddie had placed two hundred dollar bills on his lap, and before she knew it, she found herself in his car, sitting on the same sticky vinyl seats. She wondered how often he did this.

He sped off, and immediately got down to the specifics. He was in the middle of his demands, when again, the rear view flashed red blue, red blue. He pulled over to the side of the road, and before long out came the cops, who sauntered over to the car slowly.

"We've got another one." One of them said. . . but upon reaching the car and looking in he seemed to lighten up. "Oh Eddie, its you."

"Hey James, how are you?"

"Oh good good."

"And the kids?"

"They're fine, son had a big soccer tournament the other day."

"Good good."

"Oh who have we got this time." Officer James looked into the car at the Thundercock. "Thundercock eh? Chasing old flames Eddie?"

"Oh I was just giving her a ride home."

"Of course you were. . . Listen, this has been the fifth time this week. I can't keep ignoring this Eddie. . ."

"I know, I know. . . this is the last time I promise." Eddie said with a smile.

"Oh alllright then. . . On your way. Thundercock, you're under arrested."

And they cuffed her and took her in the squad car and Eddie Murphy drove back home in his wife's SUV. When he got home, he would get in bed next to his wife, he no longer gave him any attention, and slipped off to sleep to dream dreams of chicks with dicks.

Thundercock of course spent the night behind bars, on a tiny cot with all the other prostitutes in the same cell.

It pays to be a celebrity, as opposed to a chick with a dick.

The real story goes like this:

"Making Eddie the most nervous and scared black man in America, Nicole terrified him that this 1997 transvestite prostitute encounter might breach their prenuptial agreement.

The story of the prostitute stands somehow like this: in the early hours of May 2, 1997, Murphy was driving his wife's SUV down Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood, an area known for homosexual prostitutes. Murphy pulled over, and a transvestite hooker named Atisone Kenneth Seiuli got in. They drove off together, but didn't get far before there was a burst of siren, and Murphy was pulled over by a Los Angeles Sheriff's Department squad car.

The officers spent half an hour talking amiably with Murphy, warning him about the neighborhood and perhaps getting his autograph before shaking his hand and letting him go. Seiuli, though, was arrested on an outstanding warrant for violating probation on an earlier prostitution charge.

And as quick as Seiuli could post bail, the story was in the tabloids and on Entertainment Tonight. According Seiuli, in their brief conversation in the vehicle, Murphy had put two hundred-dollar bills on her leg. Seiuli remembers: "he asked me if I did this for a living, being a transsexual prostitute. I said yes. "Eddie said, 'Do you like to wear lingerie?' I said yes. He said, 'Can I see you in lingerie?' I told him, 'Whenever I have the time.' He said, 'I'll make the time.' "Then he asked me, 'What type of sex do you like?' I said I was into everything." Or at least that was Seiuli's story.

Murphy's version was not the same, of course. "I'm married with three children. I'm not going to be out there screwing hookers off the street or anything like that. I'm just being a nice guy. I was being a good Samaritan. Its not the first hooker I've helped out. I've seen hookers on corners, and I'll pull over, and they'll go, 'Oh you're Eddie Murphy, oh my God,' and I'll empty my wallet out to help."

Courtesy of Softpedia.com Full Link

Haha yeah Eddie, and they just happen to suck you dick and let you fuck them, cause you're such a nice guy. . . This whole debacle was pretty sad, I mean he picked up a known hooker in an area known for prostitution. . . And who really goes around helping hookers? And does money really help them? No, it just allows them to buy more drugs and booze. I mean, I'm sure they're nice people, but most people don't like hanging around hookers, unless they want sex from them. This also goes for driving around in such hot beds of activity. The average guy doesn't hang around them unless they want sex for hookers. . . But apparently Eddie Murphy is the nicest guy in the world...

Yeah right.

And it is for Eddie Murphy's inability to man up and his inability to keep away from tranny hookers that iR declares Eddie Murphy repetitively retarded.