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story time

Once upon a time, our hero had traveled to the southern region of commiefornia, and through his journeys ended up on dope run for a few bucks. When all your friends are trailer grade tweekers, it can happen easily. It was a loooong time ago, different life. So I get to this drop and I got a homeless girl stealing the quarters I throw in my backseat, a nigger who knows the connect, and the lead skankmomma is giving directions and telling me to drive faster. Yea, I had to learn the hard way but thats actually the moral of this stupid long story.

Anyway things get done and I'm heading to get my cash out. We pull in and girlie tells me "Tyrone has to stay in the car, trust me, he cant go in, not allowed here". We go in and it becomes clear. They do not allow niggers in their house. It is a shitty house that is true, but everyone inside was white. I was not threatened while I was there. I was paid as agreed. Pretty sure the nigger stole my cigarettes.

That left a mark on me, the open outlawing of the wrong kind, with no apology offered, only assurance of danger.
The guy was alright, clearly a skinhead sort, ripped muscles, 2 feet shorter than me but he still fucked around with me jokingly, I was not offended. I knew he knew something I didn't.

Now I know. They exist. That is to say, WE EXIST.

Yeah. You can see the "Oh Thank God" flash across their face. It's funny.