Driving down Road Ln. in her ‘01 SlugBug she affectionately called Winston, Rebecca looked out her driver’s side window at a happy couple conversing excitedly. Rebecca scoffed. What were they talking about? The economy? Bon Iver? The Romney Campaign? Brangelina? One could only guess, but what Rebecca knew for certain was, white people suck.
Rebecca had felt this way for years and not a single one of her friends could get her to see the light, or in her case, the white.
“I just can’t stand watching these fucking crackers prance in around in their Sketchers Shape-ups and Rayban glasses, Jamal!” Rebecca was venting again, and by now Maria, Carlos, and Juan-Carlos had already snuck off into their fuschia colored low-rider to avoid another hour long rant.
Jamal fired a few watermelon seeds from his mouth, and they ricocheted off the floor like bullet shells. “You trippin’ Becs,” he said. Then he was all like, “Do we really gotta go through this again?”
“THEY DIDN’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT UGANDA, JAMAL. WHITE PEOPLE JUST THINK SOCIAL ACTIVISM MAKES THEM IMPORTANT.” Rebecca took a deep breathe, and angrily thrust her hand into the bucket of KFC on the coffee table. “Ya know,” she started. “I think the worst white people invention is vegetarianism.” Despite his resistance to agree with Rebecca’s blatant racism, Jamal couldn’t help but nod. White people food was WHACK.
Sim Poy Li and Kevin Su entered the living room with their bowls of white rice, ready for a long night of Rebecca’s prejudice and, if the time permitted, some Sailor Moon. “Hey Sim! Hey Kev!” Rebecca was glad they entered, so she could tell them about her latest and greatest, (and racist) idea. “Why don’t we just, like, separate things for white people, and normal people, you know? Separate schools, separate stores, separate water fountains…”
“Rebecca that’s not legal, that’s called…”
“Hold that thought! I have to pee!” said Rebecca, and Sim Poy Li’s heart sank. She realized had forgotten to re-cover the bathroom mirror. She looked regretfully up at Kevin Su and Jamal with squinty eyes, and the trio braced them self for an all too familiar sound.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”
Rebecca looked into the mirror. It had to be dream. No, a nightmare. Worse. A white-mare. She ran her pale, and nicely manicured finger tips over the frames of her Rayban glasses. Her highly overpriced “Legalize Gay” v-neck she didn’t remember purchasing at American Apparel seemed to glare at her. When she looked down at her strategically torn skinny jeans and canvas TOM’S shoes her head began to spin. Her copy of “The Hunger Games” flew off the counter and onto the floor on it’s own. The lyrics to ‘Cough Syrup’, by Young, the Giant began forming on the wall paper in what could only have been white people blood. Just when visions of mediocre nature photography with vague sentences in Helvetica font over them began taunting her mind, Jamal bust into the bathroom with the tranquilizer gun and hit her in her white ass.
Maria, Juan, and Juan-Carlos arrived back home to assist Jamal in putting Rebecca to bed. Nights like these reminded them a lot of that shitty Adam Sandler movie, 50 First Dates. But Rebecca’s friend’s stayed positive. At least it wasn’t Jack and Jill. They hoped one day, their honky pal would accept her milky complexion, and unexplainable passion for boring music and Facebook-ing about ‘causes’ she didn’t actually care about, but until then, they’d just have to relax, and remember, White Bitches be Crazy.
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