Have you ever walked to the edge; just toglance over and imagine hitting the ground?
Raise your head up to see a man across the holler with a loaded 9 millimeter aimed right for your head; does it matter that the trigger puller is black? Does that make this a racist situation; of course it does. You’re racist for thinking bad of Mr. African American, with his power pick hanging by his jerry curl.
Is it sad that your life flashes before you as you hear the chamber empty and yet, you still have time to focus on the speeding bullet and admire the beautifulness of the whole situation…watching your death fly at you through a stream of color and motionlessness.
Another cracker dead to the world and the world will go on.
If only I were black, this racist situation would then be considered black on black crime and I could be more of a statistic and less just another honkey placed in the ground.
With the bullet rotating towards me, I have a choice. Wait for the bullet or take one last fair ride and scream with enjoyment as I head for certain death. Maybe I could pull a Superman and catch the bullet with my teeth only to spit it back across the holler…of course, then, I would be the racist.
It’s amazing how complicated dreams can be when they become reality and you face death…either yours or someone else’s.
The fact is, I’m not Superman and there will be no catching the bullet; however, I did recently watch The Karate Kid, so maybe…
just maybe, I could do some “wax on, wax off” bullshit and quickly knock the bullet to the left. Then again, I could always…