Chapter 5
Return to the back of the bus
Fairmount West Virginia - May 1983
Having
entered the bus, what I saw made me think the whole idea was a big mistake.
Sitting towards the rear, which was converted into a nice comfy living area
with tables and a kitchen, were four huge men.
Two were clearly of eastern European heritage, regular
behemoths they were, and the other two were definitely blond haired Aryan
warriors, which was shocking considering the average looking crowd just outside
the bus. But these were young guys, late twenties early thirties, and I could
sense they were all cock-sure and full of themselves. The four of them
continued staring as if I had lost my ever-loving
mind, and for a moment, I couldn’t have agreed with them more.
Dressed in an assortment of overalls, fatigues, blue jeans,
and wife-beater T-shirts, it was like stepping into a scene from the 1953 movie
called, The Wild One. No one made an attempt
to move, but I recognized Paula’s brother instantly, because of jaw line and shape
of the nose they shared. Stopping to within a few feet of the table, with the
six-pack of beers outstretched, I said…
“You boys look thirsty, have a beer. Mind if I sit?”
They looked at each other with expressions that can only be
described as amazement, then back at me.
“Go right ahead,” replied the one I had assumed was John.
I handed out the beers, pausing to look each man in his eyes
with kindness, before sitting down.
“So… people call me H, and I hear you boys don’t like
Niggers?” I said laughing. “Well gaddamn-it, I can’t stand them either!”
With that, all four men looked at each other again and then
burst into uproarious laughter, with Paula’s brother laughing the hardest. He
was the first to hold out his hand to shake mine.
“I’m John, this is my buddy Eddie, that’s Louie, and the big
guy is Benjamin.”
John had blond hair and chiseled features, the picture of
Aryan perfection (Berliner… no wonder)
I thought. (They must worship this guy).
Eddie was a stout, dark fellow with a square jaw, typical of northern
Europeans. He also had sneaky, shifty eyes like a thief and a physiognomy to
match. Louie, had the eyes and mouth of a straight up killer; cold, blank and
crooked, with pencil thin lips and a face so tight I though his skin would
crack. A long horizontal scar on his forehead accentuated his imposing
presence.
Benjamin was the biggest of them all — built like a storm
trooper, with tattoos that began at the wrist and disappeared under the short-sleeve
shirt he wore. He was definitely of German decent — square-jawed, serious eyes,
haughty, but with jet-black hair, fair skin, and deep-set blue eyes.
“So what don’t you like about Niggers?” Benjamin asked,
still laughing to himself.
“Well, a Nigger by definition is a shiftless, lazy, dirty
creature that lives in ignorance, squalor and shame. I can’t stand people like
that. What kind of Niggers don’t you like?”
They were momentarily confused. Finally, Eddie stepped up to
the plate.
“I hate Niggers that don’t know how to keep with their own
kind,” he said, sneering at me, “and then start going round sniffing up on
white woman,” he continued, with a degree of seriousness that made me think
he’s joking. But as soon as I realized just how serious he was, it was quite
disturbing.
“I hate Niggers that whine about affirmative action, while taking jobs away from deserving white
folks!” John said.
“You look at the TV and you see all them dirty, lazy-assed
Niggers living in fucking dirty cities,” Louie began, “and they be a-having one
goddamn baby after anotha! Where the hell you think they get the money for all
them welfare checks? Out of my goddamn pockets to pay for some lazy-assed
nigger’s kids!”
“That’s right, I’m sick of my tax money going to take care
of some kid that ain’t mine, and I don’t give a shit about,” cried Eddie.
“Yeah, all they care about is selling drugs, getting high,
and breeding like fucking monkeys!” said Benjamin, studying my expression to
see if their comments had hit a nerve.
“Fifty years from now the White race will be extinct!” John
said.
“You got that right! But long before that happens, there’s
going to be a race war in this country,” Louie proclaimed.
“A race war between whom?” I asked.
“Between the Niggers and the Whites, who else?” he insisted.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Then you don’t know much about
Niggers do you? Niggers have more important vermin to kill than whites people
my friend — and that’s each other! Please… you guys are pussies compared to the
violence Niggers are going to unleash upon themselves over the next twenty to thirty
years. All you gotta do is sit back
and enjoy the show.”
They were stunned to silence. So I continued. “If you boys
really want to get ‘em good, then
save up all your pennies and move to the cities with the most Niggers, and open
a liquor store or a fried chicken joint!”
Slowly, what began as a nervous chuckle turned into raucous
laughter!
“Damn. That’s some funny shit,” John heaved, “Open a fucking
liquor store!”
“I’d bet you’d make a ton of money operating a liquor store
in the ghetto,” Louie said, catching his breath.
“And selling fried chicken,” said Eddie.
“Niggers can’t resist it,” I said. “I loves me some fried
chicken! And for that matter, so do ya’ll! Saw a ton of it out there, as well
as a couple dozen watermelons. So I heard what you said,” I continued, “and a
lot of it seems to focus on losing the purity of the white race through vile
displays of the race-mixing a-happening in America today. That, along with
Negroes living in squalor having too many babies you’re taking care of with
your hard earned money — am I right, or am I wrong?”
“Uh… that about sums it up,” John said, a little stunned.
“Ok, so I want you boys to take a good hard look at me —
what color am I?”
“Black,” replied Louie.
“Black, are you color blind? My skin is tan, not black. And
how the hell do you think it got this way, genetically?”
“What do you mean?” Asked Louie.
“I am what you call a mulatto. And why am I a mulatto? My
mother is white, and my father is a Negro. But it really goes all the way back
to your white plantation owners — your great, great, great, great granddaddies,
who literally lost their minds over Nigger pussy! Those boys would mate with
the prettiest Niggress on the plantation, mixing their DNA together. The
resulting breed of children they created, turned out to be gorgeous, half-blood
gods and goddesses, that neither wives, daughters, or sons, could keep their
greedy paws off of.
Everyone was laughing.
“Can you imagine… a whole plantation filled with Nigga pussy
and all they had to do was go pick it, just like the slaves was a-pickin’ da
cotton? I’m telling you there was so much fucking going on, that your ancestors
completely changed the North American DNA of both Whites and Blacks.”
They were rolling with laughter.
“Uh huh, see… you know what I mean. You boys got that love of the nigga-pussy gene from yo
great, great, great, great granddaddies. So here’s the news flash for yah boys:
your people started all-this race mixing in America, not the Negro!”
END OF EXCERPT
Folks, I am probably the only person of color who has literally spoken to dozens of Ku Klux Klan, Aryan Nation, Neo Nazis, and Racist Skinheads, for the purpose of understanding the origins of their individual hatred towards others. So even though my novel is a work of fiction -- well, as they say; the best fiction is dirived from real events.
But, Memoirs of An Extraterrestrial, the Negro Conundrum, isn't just about race. The main character, Homam is an extraterrestrial searching for answers about HU-man life on planet earth. The reviews on Amazon are excellent! Click the link to see the reviews as well as a synopsis here:
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