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‘This Fuggin’ Goldenskin Homeboy’
Harrowing Transport Tale #4 from Mescaline Franklin with Crackpot Advice: 6/18/2022
© 2022 James LaFond
DEC/1/22
“They [1] robbed the dollar tree by me, the one where we did the videos. Girl at the counter got pistol whipped and concussed. Interesting.”
-Text from subject of this article on 6/23 as I write this
Another beer is cracked by my host in the kitchen as I pull up a seat and pour a beer for myself.
There was this one time when I was exhausted after working all day. Sometimes it would take hours to get home on the trains, to my shitty little illegal apartment that was built around the furnace and crawling with roaches. Other than the roaches it was my best apartment—because it was illegal! Fuck these people. Fuck this world! Fuck their rules!!
[a toast is made with two fine German beers, one in a heavy mug the other a tall glass]
So I’m exhausted when this fuggin’ golden-skin homeboy gets on the train and starts harassing all of the young women. Of course nobody says shit, does shit. People are pretending this shit is not happening and its just rediculous. This guy, half African and half Chaldean I bet! This guy, fuggin’ king of the world, he gets on, goes up to the nearest young woman, puts his groin in her face while he holds onto the pole and does this…
[gets up and comically imitates pole dancing gyrations and the author begins laughing]
He’s going, “Whaz up girllll” and grinding his crotch in this woman’s face who looks away and is in tears and looking around for someone to help.
I’m sayin’ to myself, “Yeah, you prissy white ϲunt, you would never give me the time of day and now you want my help—fuck off!”
I’m tryin’ to ignore this stuff, thinkin’ what would James do, James wouldn’t get involved in this retarded shit.
[James is laughing so hard he’s sliding down in his chair]
Or would you?
Okay, so this golden-skin homeboy goes to another woman, dancing with his junk in her face, “Come on girlll!” and doing his Homo Erectus mating dance and people are pretending this shit is not happening, all of these miserable faɡɡots and cold bitches and I’m just tryin’ to rest—but this niցցer won’t stop!
[gets up dancing, grinding and repeating, “Yeah, girlll” this block-built legionnaire of neverwhere, miming the debased form of his traditional foe and James is laughing]
This fuggin’ golden-skin faɡɡot was irritating me. Why does everything, even messing with rancid New York bitches, have to be so fuggin’ gay!
Now, he has put his crotch in the face of every white woman. But wait, there is a negress there, queen of the world! And he comes over to her and starts doing it to her, “Yeah girll, you know you wan it,” and she says, “Please, I’m pregnant.”
Well shit, she’s incubating some little fucker that’s going to be hunting me on the street when I’m an old dude, so fuck her. But I gotta give it to her, unlike the white bitches, she had heart and has a water bottle and holds it back [mimes this with beer glass] like she’s goin’ to hit him and he is just encouraged and keeps it up.
I don’t know if it was because she was ready to fight—fuckin’ combat incubator of my enemy that she was—or because she was sitting near me and I was just getting’ too fed up with this piece-of-shit. But I got up and said,“Hey buddy, cut it out! Enough already!!”
And he went away, just like that. And the black lady thanked me, mother of my enemy. But you think any of those white ϲunts of my own race would thank me—hell no.
Bro, you are lovin’ this! This is funny to you?
[James laughs hard as he lies on the bistro chair in comic geriatric limbo]
Okay, so what would James LaFond do, do now, you, not the long haired dude on the street with the knife back in the day, but mister Amtrak, hobo yeti, what would you do in that situation?
Crackpot Comments
Bro, I’m proud to have you as a friend, the kind of guy that would stand up for strangers that hate you like that.
Bro, I always carry a lot of ones for the bus and well, in this situation I’d have to make it rain!
I mean, this faɡɡot was essentially being a woman and also terrorizing the people who hate me at a glance. So I would have tipped him, handed him a one for the first bitch, two for the second bitch, three for the third bitch. Then, when he got on the black bitch, I would have recruited her by breaking out a five and saying, “Bro, not her, that white faɡɡot over their with the I-phone, five bucks!
If Homeboy danced in front of one hipster, I’d find the guy with the nicest clothes and point him out to Homeboy and bring out a $20, “Bro, Globo Homo over there with the Wall Street Journal is thirsty for a lap dance!”
If he went for that I’d give the black chick $20 to sing and clap while the golden skin dancer ground his ass on the slacks-encased lap of the man who hates us all!
What a time it could be, but…
Knowing Negrodons as I do, I surmise, that my offer of a tip, of treating this tootsie roll of sub-humanity like a female dancer in a club, would be taken as an insult and that fear would overcome him as he stood confronting his timeless Master, and off the porch of the big house he would cringing go.
In the end, I like to use humor for such subhuman shitbags, as I think you honor them ever so slightly with your honest and heroic desire to enforce decent treatment of the helpless women who exist only for our pleasure and continuation.
Again, you are much the better man than I, and the world hates you that much more for it, for this world is Evil and we live and die in its fetid Garden of Iniquity. I demand only a laugh along the sorrowful way.
Notes
1. Negrodon tribesmen have been walking the streets of many small eastern Pennsylvania towns, robbing, beating, bull-parading, even raping one Amish girl, flipping real estate for their unseen masters.
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