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The Asylum  > Columns > Platypus > Flexed.

[COMMENTS]
Flexed. By Feral Automaton - 02/06/01 - 00:00:00
Held tight, so tight no air could ever enter his lungs.

“Fucking nigger piece of shit.”

1/2Man takes a long, drawn out breath, than continues his dialogue:

“I’m guessin’ ya’ll didn’t notice our proper white cross in the front yard?”

“Mmmpffff” replied the bound and gagged book salesman, a black man, a university student, maybe twenty-two years old. He is tied to a chair in a basement. The american national anthem plays quietly, burdened by static, from a small radio.

“Stupid shit sells books and he can’t even talk right! Ain’t that the funniest shit ya’ll been seein’ Gitch?”

Gitch, tall white skinhead, a mechanic with a fourth grade education and five remaining teeth is 1/2Man’s “associate,” nods and grunts over enthusiastically to express his approval.

“Shut up Gitch, you sound almost as stupid as the nigger.”

Gitch quiets down.

“Almost as stupid…” says 1/2Man.

Gitch gets excited.

Stop.

Held tight, so tight no air could ever enter his lungs.

Start.

1/2Man clears his throat, than soliloquies: “So you didn’t see our proper cross didja, stupid coon shit? Well that cross, had ya’ seen it, would’ve told ya’ll that we don’t fuckin’ care much fer niggers and shit roun’ ere’. Maybe, if you’s wasn’t so fuckin’ stoopid yall’d of recognized our swastika and wouldn’t have shown yer monkey fuckin’ face at our god fearin’ doorstoop.”

Desperate and afraid, the student, a man named Thomas, screams “Mmmppppffffff!!!!”

He is crying. He is terrified.

He should be.

1/2Man punches Thomas in the face. The chair falls back against a wall; the electrical tape muffles the student’s screams, but does nothing to shield the pain.

“Don’tcha fuckin’ be interuptin’ me or I’ll cut off yer dick and feed it to Gitch!” 1/2Man screams, than clears his throat: “as I was sayin’, you done trespassed in my holy land, my domicile, and I ain’t gonna fuckin’ be too tolerant o’ you bringin’ nigger cooties and shit all over gods country.”

Stop.

Hate.

Start.

“You’re gonna have to pay for yer wrongs nigger.”

Stop.

Held tight, so tight no air could ever enter his lungs.

Start.

Outside. Somewhere in some Appalachian forest you can hear a muffled scream, surrounded by an empty laughter. 1/2Man and Gitch break both of Thomas’s legs, crush three ribs, and smash his testicles with a hammer. They lay down a tattered, blood stained american flag, place Thomas in the center, and drag him over to their truck, whereupon they tie his shattered legs together...

“So you’s probably askin’ yerself ‘why these two white folk tying me to the back of this here tailgate?’ Stupid nigger would ask a dumb question like that.”

1/2Man leans in close; so Thomas can here every word, smell 1/2Man’s toxic breath:

“Well you stupid fuck I’ll tell you why we’re tying ya’ll up, this is my lesson to ya’ll: you committed a crime against us and now we’re gonna’ exact a divine retribution. We’re sending ya’ll to hell along with the rest of yer ugly fuckin’ shit for skin race. Along with all the other coon slaves our rebel brothers killed. Hell, we’re sendin’ ya’ll to burn you fuckin’ nigger.”

1/2Man clears his throat, than continues:

“But before we send you ta hell, we’re gonna drive along this here gravel road with you danglin’ about behind our truck like a fish on lure, only, we ain’t gonna reel ya’ll in and skin you… We’ll let the road tear you up. Let the road shred off your nigger skin and let your white bones shine through.”

Directly into Thomas’s tear streaked face, calmly, ambivalently staring into his bloodstained eyes:

“See, I got’s me this theory that all niggers would be white if not for their dirty skin. God just wants us white folks to carve you fuckers up and get inside, to your bones, and expose you as our white brothers. Really, I’m doing ya’ll a favor. Maybe you’ll be able to get into heaven with me and Gitch because when we’re done with ya’ll ain’t no one gonna know you’s was a nigger. They’ll think you’re a used tampon or some bitch’s blood rag.”

“See, ‘hate’ don’t begin to describe it nigger coon. Hate’s just a word. Fuck, anyone can hate, and what I got is not just what anyone else’s got. Other people hate and never do shit about it, but I’m gonna kill you nigger. I’m gonna take my hate and kill you with it.”

1/2Man breathes: “god gave me a beautiful feelin’ and I’m gonna learn it to you.”

Stop.

Held tight, so tight no air could ever enter his lungs. This is the 1/2Man:

permanently

Flexed.

Against an army

of no one.

Start.

Police find a pile of wet, white bones, bound up in a tattered, bloodstained american flag, tied to a telephone pole. An autopsy will later document the words “My lesson to ya’ll” crudely etched into the skull of a former student, valedictorian, and black, posthumously identified by his dental records as “Thomas.”

His “christian” name.

Stop.

 






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