Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator (ludickid) wrote,
Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator
ludickid

...fa ya

As everyone knows, one of my most favoritest things in the whole wide world is being made an unwilling part of other people's racism. Hello, white privelege! Pull up a chair, let's have a yak. Anyway, a few days ago, I was tooling aimlessly around Santone, and I noticed I was "low on the petrol", as the lads say down at the chip shop on St. Swivin's Day. So I pulled into a station, gassed up the Chickwagon, and decided to go in and buy a sody pop. While in there, I noticed that they had, for no particular reason, a huge rack full of brand-new hip-hop tees of fine quality. After inquiring after their price and finding it reasonable, I picked one out -- the one, as it happens, that I am wearing right now which I think you'll agree gives this story an extra-spicy frisson -- and took it up to the counter along with my sody pop*.

Behind the counter was a young feller, perhaps in his mid-20s, who appeared to be of Arab or perhaps East Indian origin. "Ah!" thought I to myself. "One of my people, or near as dammit! Surely this will be an auspicious transaction, and not at all rife with awkward silences!" He rang up my sody pop, and, in preparation to ring up my snazzy hip-hop tee, inspected its color (light blue, with a multicolored front logo) and design.

"I like this shirt," he said, allowing me about five seconds of feeling all cool before he delivered the nuclear follow-up: "It's black, but not TOO black."

*: A Dr. Pepper, but not a Dublin Dr. Pepper. As potent a combination as is featured in that product's retro packaging and real-sugar crisp sweetness, seven bucks for a six-pack of 8-ounce bottles is pretty absurd.
Tags: diary
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