"Mega. AND Ultra. It's a Black Mega Ultra Monster Cock."

As far as Chick Lit goes, the only sub-genre that holds any interest is the Urban White Chick / Black Monster Cock one.

Sometimes the Black Monster Cock belongs to a professional athlete the heroine meets; sometimes it's the unassuming black office-worker down the hall who -- who knew? -- turns out to have a Black Monster Cock.

Pages of witty dialogue ensue, as she has lunch with all of her diverse urban friends and they talk about Monster Cocks.

"I don't know --  maybe our waiter has a Monster Cock."

"He's Asian, Tamara."

"Are you saying Asian men can't have a Monster Cock, Jennifer?"

"I'm sure they can. But it is probably more 'Son of Godzilla' than 'Godzilla', you know what I mean?"

"I think you can't say that, Jennifer."

"Sure you can. You just can't compare black men's cocks with King Kong, that's all."

"What about White Men? Who can we compare their White Monster Cocks to?"

"I don't know, but I bet all the White Monster Cocks are in Gay Porn, anyway."

"That's funny because it's true."

"You know what else is true?"

"What's that?"

"Black Men have big cocks. They REALLY do."

"Oh yeah."

"Bigger than White Men. And Asians."

"So, Jennifer: your new friend. Is it a Monster Cock, or is it a Mega-Monster-Cock?"

"Mega. AND Ultra. It's a Black Mega Ultra Monster Cock."

"You're so lucky."

"I am, I am. Except for the vaginal bleeding."

You know: dialogue like that.

I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2017/03/because-of-trump-chick-lit-writer.html

“Half-hour, this time. I won’t even be taking off my shoes.”

Authentic Big City Dialog...

“How are you doing tonight, Gwen?”

“I’m doing well, Isaac. How’s my favorite Uber driver?”

“Doin’ great. Mo money Mo money — we know ALL about that, right?”

“Oh yeah. The guy in my last session tipped me two hundred dollars.”

“Sweet. Did he pay extra for using the back door?”

“Not even. Straight doggy-style. Meat and potatoes, baby.”

“You know, sometimes with me driving you around to all your ‘appointments’, I kinda feel like your pimp. Ha.”

“You’d beat someone down for me, Isaac? If someone needed beating down, I mean?”

“Oh yeah. Where I grew up, beatin’ someone down ain’t no big thing.”

“Good to know, Isaac.”

“You have someone that needs beaten’ down, pretty lady?”

“There’s always someone, Isaac: there’s always someone.”

“Ain’t THAT the truth.”

“Funny. You know, what WOULD you charge if you were to beat someone down? You know, just talking, of course.”

“Of course. I bet we would find a suitable exchange.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Hell, we might even work it out in Trade. Just talking’, of course.”

“Of course.”

“How big is he?”

“How big is who?”

“This guy who needs beatin’ down: is he a big dude?”

“Pretty big. Used to work as a bouncer at I strip club I was at.”

“So a big dude.”

“What would that be? Like, an hour of Trade, maybe?”

“We’re just talking’, of course.”

“Oh yeah. Just talking.”

“A big dude, right? An hour sounds good. But it’d be a back door hour.”

“Back door? You’re gonna put the big hurt on him?”

“Hell yeah. He’ll be crying like a bitch, and he won’t even know why.”

“You like the back door, don’t you, Isaac?”

“Baby, I’m a Back Door Man.”

“Ah. The men don’t know…”

“…But the little girls understand. You got it, Gwen, you got it.”

“Well, this is good to know, Isaac. Just talking, of course.”

“Of course, Pretty Lady. And we’re here…”

“Thanks for the ride, Isaac.”

“See you in an hour?”

“Half-hour, this time. I won’t even be taking off my shoes.”

“Ha! Be safe, little girl…”

“I will, Isaac: I always am…”

I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2017/01/the-most-important-question-surrounding.html

"And I blew coke up Britney Spears' asshole back in the day. I KNOW good coke, bitch."

Authentic Big City Dialog...

"Hey guy, you got any coke?"

"Bitch, I got coke."

"Don't you be calling me a bitch if you don't have no coke."

"Bitch, I got COKE."

"You calling me 'bitch', it better be some DAMN fine coke."

"Bitch, I got coke, and it is DAMN fine coke. Bitch."

"Like you know what good coke is. I've had coke from millionaires."

"And I blew coke up Britney Spears' asshole back in the day.  I KNOW good coke, bitch."

"If you keep calling me 'bitch' and it ain't good coke..."

"Yeah? What are you going to do -- have a 'millionaire' come beat my ass? I got coke, and it's not just good coke, it's GOOD COKE. Bitch."

"You thinking of sharing?"

"What you got to share, bitch?"

"Maybe we can go back to my place, do some lines and see what happens."

"I don't know. Coke this good, I might find me a finer bitch."

"Oh, she won't be as freaky as I am."

"You freaky, bitch?"

"For good coke, I'm REALLY freaky."

"You better be REAL freaky for coke this good."

"Oh yeah, I -- wait: you didn't call me 'bitch'. Did I say something wrong?"

"Uh -- you better be REAL freaky for coke this good. Bitch."

"I don't think you mean it anymore."

"What are you talking 'bout?"

"You gone soft. You ain't got no good coke."

"I GOT good coke."

"See? You didn't say it again. You wasting my time, aren't you?"

"Ummm... well: yeah. I just got some ground-up baby aspirin. You are WAY out of my league."

"I knew it."

"Okay, okay. I think I'm gonna go and get a Big Mac. You wanna come?"

"You gonna buy me a Big Mac, bitch?"

"Yeah, yeah: I'll buy you a Big Mac."

"Bitch, you're gonna buy me a Big Mac and a large COKE...":

I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2016/11/robert-stacy-mccain-reads-jessica.html