Would you consider this little piece of flash fiction racist? Or anti-racist?
I’m hoping it will be taken as anti-racist.
“Hey, what’s up, nigga?” Rodney walked up to Jacob, who was leaning against a pristine vintage 1964 Corvette painted a beautiful metal-flake dark blue.
Jacob smiled. “Like you don’t know, man.”
“You got a new car.”
“Yeah, check it out!” Jacob stepped back from the car so that Rodney could admire it properly. “This nigga’s got some classic wheels, man.”
Rodney ran his hand across the hood, as if he were caressing a beautiful woman’s bare skin. “Damn, it’s fine. How much did this set you back—“
“What’s up, niggers?”
The two men turned to see their friend Cory walking up to them, smiling. Without a moment’s hesitation, Jacob swung his fist, punching Cory square in the nose.
Cory staggered backward to land on his ass in the street. “Ow, fuck!”
Jacob and Rodney said nothing, just stood staring at him. Rodney looked concerned.
“Why did you hit me, man?” Cory said. He looked down at his hands, which had been covering his nose. “Look, I’m bleeding!”
“You called us niggers,” Jacob said.
“But, you call each other that!”
“We can do that, but you can’t.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I just said it because that’s what you guys say.”
“You can’t say it.”
“Why? Because I’m white?”
“Yes because you’re white! What the fuck were you thinking?”
“But I’m your friend.”
“If you were my friend,” Jacob said, “you wouldn’t be calling me a nigger.”
“But you guys call each other that! You call yourselves that!”
“White people don’t call black people nigger,” Jacob said.
“Friends don’t hit each other,” Cory said. “And what you’re saying is racist.”
“What I’m saying is racist?!”
“Yes! You’re excluding me from saying a word because of the color of my skin.”
Rodney took a few steps to stand beside Cory, who still sat on the pavement with his nose dribbling blood. “Cory kind of has a point,” he said to Jacob. “You shouldn’t have hit him.”
“White people are not allowed to call us niggers. People who violate this require swift and immediate discouragement.”
“But I didn’t mean anything by it,” Cory said. “I used the term in the same spirit you guys do. In the same context, even.”
“You don’t get to use that word!” Jacob yelled at him.
“I can’t use the word because it’s a racial slur, but you can. Because you’re black. That is racist. And if you don’t want people calling you that, then you need to stop calling each other that.”
Rodney held out his hand and helped Jacob to his feet. “I’m sorry he hit you, man. I know you’re our friend.”
“Thanks.” He stood up. “You know, you can call me whitey, you can call me cracker, you can call me anything you want — bastard, motherfucker, cocksucker — anything. Because we’re friends. But fuck — you never hit a friend. Look, I’ve got a nose bleed now!”
“Your ancestors were never my ancestors slaves, Cory! There’s a difference.”
“You have never been a fucking slave, and I have never been a fucking slave owner! All I’ve been to you is a friend!”
“I’m not going to say sorry, man. You don’t call us nigger. Period.”
Cory tried in vain to wipe the blood away from his nose. “Fine. Lesson learned. I’ll never say that word again.”
“That’s why I hit you,” Jacob said. “So that you’d learn that lesson.”
“Fuck.” Cory took a deep breath. “Well. Damn. It’s a really good thing I didn’t call you jigaboo.”
Jacob lunged, and Rodney had to grab him in both arms and hold tight. As they struggled, Cory turned and ran, leaving a trail of crimson red droplets to mark his path.
My friends, I’d really like your honest opinion here. Are these entertaining and engaging enough for me to continue working on?
At the very least, they’re short. Especially numbers 2 and 3.
This is an HDR image composed of 5 different pictures,
all taken at a different speed and f-stop.
As a comparison, here’s a “normal” photograph of Lady Savina’s abode:
Am I the only one who’s already totally sick of seeing banners from Datingish? The Mommaroo (or whatever it’s called) I can handle, but this incessant in-your-face marketing of a totally unnecessary spin-off is really starting to irritate me.
I know Xanga is feeling the need to grow and expand, and they’ve done a lot of good things lately, but starting up these extra sites I think is a mistake. They’re diluting themselves. And they’re alienating me.
By content alone, this WickedGlee blog should actually be over on Datingish, but I’m not moving it there. No way.
End of rant.
In other news, I’m really moving right along with progress on my novel, and have discovered a wonderful feature on Google Maps that is an ultimate writing research tool: Google Maps StreetView. I can actually zoom in on some of the places I’ve set my novel, and see everything from the street level.
Is this the sign of the times? Or is this a clear indicator that I have Internet addiction?
My love is back in town … with her middle daughter … so we are only seeing each other for breakfast and lunch at the moment. It’s not enough, but, it’s every day! And for some reason it feels uber romantic. Two “dates” a day, and then I walk her to her car in the evening. We were planning to ride in together from my place but I decided it’s trouble in the making — what if she has to rush off to be with her kids or something? I’d be stranded, and I don’t know anyone here besides her that I can call for a 17 mile ride home.
As I’d promised, I’ve uploaded pictures of “The Loft” in all its rustic splendor, as well as a video I took … while driving … during a severe thunderstorm in the middle of the night, in the middle of Kansas.
Just call me “Danger Boy.”
My love is still out of town, and here I am again, stopping by to feed the fish and use the dial up Internet.
- I did take pictures of The Loft, but can’t really upload them until I get my broadband.
- No Internet + No Girlfriend + Lots of Time = Major Work Done On Novel! I boosted the word count by about 5000 words over the last few days.
- No Internet also equals No Instant Research. Interestingly enough, that hasn’t really been a problem, though for some reason (amazing foresight?) I printed out a lot of research material before I started this whole moving process, and so had many of the facts I needed as hardcopy for this weekend’s writing binge.
- I did not move up here with a TV nor do I intend to get one. That’s right, I have NO TELEVISION. I don’t miss it at all. What I do miss, however, is my microwave oven. Without it I feel like I’m camping or something.
- I will catch up with you all later this week. Promise!
- Won’t have broadband at The Loft until sometime next week, so won’t be around much until then. I’m on dial-up AOL at my love’s right now.
- Lady Savina left town, going to meet in Nashville with her future-ex and middle daughter. It’s kid visitation time.
- She may or may not be bringing middle daughter back here with her. If middle daughter is here, I’ll be spending a lot of time at The Loft.
- The Loft is … it has, um, lots of … character. Yes, that’s the word for it. If it were in the inner city I’d call the place a dump, but being that it’s in the country and is over 100 years old, it’s not really a dump it’s … character. Definitely. The building used to be a general store. The apartment itself would be termed a “studio” apartment if it weren’t so huge. It’s much bigger than my old two-bedroom in McKinney. High ceilings, archways, lots of tall windows … totally uneven floors, totally bizarre and wacked-out ceiling, huge weird bathroom that is a major waste of space (it could almost be a bedroom). The place is definitely a small-town country version of a loft apartment.
- That’s it for now. Gotta go pull laundry out of the drier, feed the fish, and head back over to The Loft. I just hung window blinds and am now going to attempt to move my meager furnature into a zen feng shui arrangement.
- Happy 4th of July!