I was recently in North Carolina on business… well, not so much business as scamming rich people while wearing a stolen suit after hitchhiking with a trucker who I ended up killing so I could jack his eighteen wheeler, but I eventually ran out of gas and… you know what, let's just skip the back story. You don't need to know everything I do. Anyway…
I found myself at some sort of political rally. I had the following conversation with some old white lady claiming to be the wife of the senator of something or another.
OLD LADY: "Are you here to vote yes on Amendment One?"
ME: "Absolutely. I love freedom of speech. It's my favorite amendment next to the one about the right to collect bear arms. I have hundreds of them mounted on the wall of my summer home. They really add a certain air of worldly sophistication to the place. It's just something about the claws."
OLD LADY: "No, Amendment One is designed to make same-sex marriages illegal."
ME: "I thought that was already illegal here."
OLD LADY: "Oh, it is. This just makes it, um, more illegal."
ME: "So, we're trying to stop them from doing something they're already not doing, but more so. Well that makes sense."
OLD LADY: "It's very simple."
ME: "You know, I'm actually with a non-profit organization that's working towards a cure for homosexuality. Does that sound like something you'd be interested in donating $50,000 to? I can give you my Swiss Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause. Tax deductible, of course."
OLD LADY: "Oh no no no… we don't hate the gays. Just the blacks."
ME: "I beg your pardon?"
OLD LADY: "Well, I mean… not just the blacks. Mexicans, too. Obviously."
ME: "I don't follow. What does this have to do with gay marriage?"
OLD LADY: "Well, you see, gay people don't make babies. We have to preserve the Caucasian race. With babies. And gay people don't make those. Because they're gay."
At this point I pulled out my old fashioned wooden pipe filled with a rich blend of cherry hazelnut tobacco laced with PCP. I inhaled deeply as I pondered her words.
ME: "So let me see if I've got this right. Gay people stop getting married, which will cause them to stop being gay. Once they're no longer gay, they'll settle down into a proper Christian marriage. And once they're married, they'll start making babies to save the Caucasian race."
OLD LADY: "Exactly!"
ME: "But just the white ones."
OLD LADY: "Exac– crap, I never thought of that. Okay, well, maybe it's alright if just the black gays get married. Do gays come in black?"
I put my hand on her leg and gazed into her eyes.
ME: "If I may? It seems to me that you're going about it all wrong. What you need to be doing is rounding up all the white girls past the age of… what's the age of consent here, like, twelve?"
OLD LADY: "Sixteen."
ME: "Same difference. Anyway, you round them up…"
OLD LADY: "Black people are scary!"
ME: "Sweetie? I need you to hush for two minutes, can you do that for me?"
OLD LADY: "Okay."
ME: "Round up all the white girls and auction them off to straight white men. Give the men thirty days to impregnate their partner. If they don't, breach of contract. Throw 'em in prison, resell the girl to the next man."
OLD LADY: "You know, that just might work."
I stroked her hair and unzipped the back of her dress, unfastening her bra in the process.
ME: "I mean you'd have to take precautions, of course. The girls would have to be baptized by a Klansman, and you'd need to form a prayer circle around them to make sure they were protected from devils and colored people lurking in the area."
OLD LADY: "Oh, well, of course."
ME: "Just picture it: hundreds, no, thousands of little newborn honkey babies being taken out of the hospital and thrust into the world in little baby-sized church suits. It will be like Miracle on White Christmas Street every day of the year."
OLD LADY: "That's so beautiful. Kiss me."
I kissed her deeply. She swooned in my arms.
OLD LADY: "If I were younger, I'd offer my womb to you. We would make such beautiful white children together."
ME: "Really? Because I'm actually half black. Hey, are those free shrimp? Oh shit, they are! Alright, bitch, I gotta go. Nice talking to you."
I stole her purse on the way out and filled it up with cocktail shrimp.