If you’ve breezed through Twitter today chances are you heard about Zola, a woman who told an amazing tale about strippers, trapping, and crazy white folks, in about 150 tweets.

In case you haven’t seen Zola’s story, here’s a link to the ENTIRE thing–and trust me, it’s worth the read.

But the short version is this: Zola, an exotic dancer/artist/Hooter’s waitress met a white girl named Jessica one night and the two decided to head to Florida to make a few dollars. Because Zola had gone to the Sunshine State in the past to dance and came home with $15,000, she decided to tag along and do it again.

Thing is, though, the entire trip was doomed from the start.



Zola’s boyfriend was upset she was leaving without him, so she “fucked him calm,” and headed South with Jessica, Jessica’s boyfriend Jarrett, and a “big” Black dude who we later found out was named Z.

When they get to Florida, Zola and Jessica drop their things and head straight to a club. But the money wasn’t right. It was a slow night and they barely made any cash, so when Z came to pick the girls up, he asked them if they wanted to “trap.”


Zola doesn’t kill anybody, but he does keep her wits about her–which pays off big time later when Jessica gets caught up with some…clients.


Jarret turns out to be super unstable. Throughout the entire weekend he threatens to kill himself if Jessica doesn’t stop sleeping with other guys, and even tries to jump off a balcony. Eventually, though, he comes around and drives Jessica and Zola–who is merely there to keep Jess company, she never “traps”–to a “job.”

But things quickly go bad.

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They don’t die, obviously. Instead, Zola’s had enough and is ready to head back home to Detroit. Z buys her and Jarret plane tickets home, but he still doesn’t want to leave without Jessica–that’s when he tries to jump to his death.

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Somehow, Jarret survives his suicide attempt and Z carts him downstairs, puts him in the car, and takes him and Zola to the airport. When they get home, Zola spills her guts to her boyfriend who can’t believe the story–who can?!–and life goes on.

Until four day later….


Zola’s story was hilarious, addictive, and Twitter LOVED it. The memes, of course, wrote themselves.

Listen, I don’t know if she’s considering it, but Zola should be writing her own novels. After all, if books like Creepin’: A New Orleans Love StoryI Got Love For My Shawty, and A Bittersweet Hood Dilemma can sell thousands of copies on Amazon, Zola’s trap tales can too.

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