So apparently I’m a racist.
This story starts off with a Young man (Early Twenties) Getting off work after a long day of hard work on the night crew at a Fast-food establishment. His first priority, Being broke and addicted to cigarettes and conveniently possessing an extra lighter he has no use of, is to attempt to find someone willing to trade a smoke for a lighter. Fortunately his nightly route home is heavily occupied by drunk people getting out of the bars, and ash-trays and planters riddled with hollywoods (Half smoken cigarettes).
His First and final stop for his task at hand was the 7 11 approximately 10 blocks from his work. There were three belligerently drunk men and the graveyard-shift 7 11 employee. Decreasing his speed to a comfortable 25 RPM the distraught addict (let’s just call him Spencer) takes his iPhone earbuds out of his ears and casually engages the three drunk college students and 7 11 employee in conversation by mildly butting in on their conversation.
Two of the three drunk students were bickering about a situation that had involved mustard getting onto one of the drunkards shirts.
“Dude! It’s only mustard! It’s not like that shirt was going to get you laid.” Says the drunkest of the three.
To invade on the dilemma in hopes of querying about a spare smoke, Spencer interjects with a swift ”Well it might.” It came out a little more homo-erotic than intended. Breaking the awkward realization of his under-toned flattering remark the three patrons and employee let out a subtle chuckle.
”Now to get to business.” thinks spencer. “Would any of you fine gentlemen happen to have a cigarette I could trade for a cigarette?”
The employee and the most cohesive of the three inebriated students attempted to take Spencer up on his offer. The student who offered pulled out a Camel Light, and the employee pulled out an American Spirit Teal. Spencer being an avid Spirit smoker denied the students cigarette and accepted the offer of the man in the 7 11 uniform. “I prefer Spirits. Thanks though.” says Spencer denying the man holding the Camel Light. Right then things felt a little tense between spencer and the drunk students. Continuing to trade the lighter for the cigarette, Spencer let the well-needed ingesting of nicotine commence .
In the hopes of potentially clearing the air of the denial of the students Camel with further chit-chat, Spencer eves-drops on the students conversation further.
”Dude. I’m in the mood for some mother fuckin’ Mexican food.” says the disgruntled student with mustard on his sweater.
In attempt to help the three intoxicated students, Spencer suggests the Burrito Boy down the street. assuming that the three students were not from Eugene.
One replies with an upbeat, “That sounds fucking DOOOPE!”
“Man, you don’t know what good Mexican food is.” says the drunkest of the three.
”I beg to differ.”Spencer interjects. “I mean I live in america. One of the most prominent styles of restaurant in the area is Mexican.” It’s not like the food that Spencer is eating is not actually mexican food.
”Dude, I’m fucking Mexican. I know what the fuck I’m Talking about.” Shouts the upset Mexican.
”I’m not trying to get you all riled up or anything, but I have had mexican food. And I know what I like. Have you tried ‘El Pacifico’?”
”OOOOOH! EL PUH SIF EECO!!! I’M WHITE, BLUFGLRULDSHTFJSJBMPT!! White people don’t know shit about Mexican food!” Shouts the disgruntled Mexican in a fourth grade style of mocking.
”Your racism is appalling.” Replies Spencer.
”Oh I’m racist? Im fucking Mexican dude. How the fuck am I racist.” says the drunken Mexican still shouting.
Spencer says, “Chill the fuck out. It’s Called reverse racism.”
Still shouting the angry Mexican replies. ”I’m chill as a fuckin’ cucumber bro. REVERSE RACISM. OOOOOOH.”
The other two start to chime in with unintelligent slurs of how he’s a Mexican, how his mom doesn’t speak english, and how he can’t be racist due to his race, etc.
Calmly Spencer finishes his American Spirit that seemed to take forever to burn to the gold line where his comfort of extinguishing the cigarette resides, and says farewell to the three drunk bros.
As spencer puts his earbuds back in his ears and pulls away on his bike, he hears the muffled murmur of someone shouting, “Okaayyy!!! Good bye RACIST!!”
Let’s hope these boys learn the true meaning of racism, and fast.
