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PaWolf View Drop Down
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Hoary Ol' Chestnut... doncha know....

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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote PaWolf Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 02 May 2012 at 2:04am
Originally posted by Jimbo Jimbo wrote:

Originally posted by Thor Thor wrote:

And don't forget the math/anatomy basic...
 
The angle of the dangle times the heat of the meat equals the motion of the ocean.
 
To the power of 10 with....
 
 
 
....KY Warming Lotion.
 
Thumbs Up
 
 
 
Handshake
 
OHhhhhh! O.K. then!
I get it!
THIS must be what the story - what the angle - what the 'best lube' outside o'the ol' 'Quaker State' must be referring to!
This whole thread is about one o'those kind what like to...well...how do you say, 'Swallow the Pipe' in some ol' form or fashion, right?!! Thanks Thor & ol'Mule!  Absolutely! A better move, and, well, a lil' 'warming gel' might have maode things a LOT better when (ET? PCV? STEEL PIPE?) 'Boned Home'...
 
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"What we do for ourselves dies with us, What we do for others is and remains immortal." - Albert Pike
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Donathan Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 02 May 2012 at 2:23am
Part 6
 
I went to my room to do my homework. I had Homework from my English Class. I didn’t have any Math homework since today was my last day in Mr. Smith’s class.

Homework was proofreading a letter from a handout Mrs. Hayes had given us. This is the handout.

April 15, 2005. We went too a fre muzik consert in a park. Wee where so exited to cee acks like Kristina Agulera, Richard Marks, Sierra, and Rik Springfield. We ate potato calad, korn on the kob, and pissa. Then we played frisbe after the consert. We went home it was like 11:00, or 12:00, or 1:00. It was a grate nite.

I fixed the mistakes, and then I put my homework in my backpack. I washed and dried my mother’s and my laundry, folded them, and put them away. Then I cleaned my room. I swept and dusted, fixed up my dresser, and made my bed. I would have gone on the computer and surfed the net, but both computers were at the computer repair shop. I usually have a computer in my room and there is another computer in our family room. I watched my “White Chicks” DVD. I love that movie! Shawn and Marlon Wayans go undercover as rich and spoiled heiresses Brit and Tiff. It’s really funny! You’ve gotta see it. After the movie, I switched from DVD player to “DirecTV” and changed the channel to The Simpsons. I turned on my DVR and pressed record so I could go take a shower. After showering, I finished watching the Simpsons. I pressed “Stop” and turned off the DVR. I watched some more TV, and then listened to some songs on the radio, and ate dinner. After dinner, I watched some more TV, and then went to bed. You see how boring my life is when I’m not doing crime? I’m boring myself as I write this.

When I woke up, it was the same routine as I had done yesterday to get ready for school. At school, I arrived at 7:23, so I went straight to Homeroom. After Homeroom, I went to Block 2. In Block 2, during Silent Reading, I continued reading Silent Night. I found out why Reva had screamed. She had screamed because someone had put a needle in her lipstick! There was blood running from her lips, and she quickly wiped her lips. When she told Mitch, one of her dad’s young employees what had happened, Mitch told her, “That’s because no one likes you, Reva.” I thought that was rude of Mitch!

I read some more, and then Silent Reading was over. The Block I was in was reading. I LOVE this subject. We read a story about a boy who finds a genie lamp. It was called, “The Best Day of Your Life!” In it, the boy finds the genie, and the genie says he will grant him a wish. The boy wishes for the next day to be the best day if his life. The next day, he has a great day. He gets an A in class, gets smug, the girl he likes talks to him and he acts like a big peacock, strutting around her, looking cool, and he does great in basketball. When he goes home at night, the genie still says that tomorrow will be the best day of his life.

The boy is ecstatic! Even better than this day? He goes to school the next day, and finds out he is doing the same day over again. He realizes that his classmates look resentful of him, something he hadn’t realized before, and the girl he was strutting around looks upset at how he is acting. He wants to stop this day, but he can’t. He begins to feel trapped. He goes home again, and that night, the genie STILL says, ‘Tomorrow will be the best day of your life!” The next day, the same day happens again. He is stuck in the same day and wants it to stop. He is really feeling trapped now. He relieves the day the next day, and just goes through the motions. When he goes home again, he wants to beg the genie to undo the wish, but he can’t say that, since he is repeating the same day again. The story ends with, “Tomorrow will be the best day of your life!”

I really felt sorry for the kid. Imagine being stuck in the same day forever? Well, at least he’ll never die, I thought.

After the reading, we had to answer questions from a short story about a boy who travels into outer space. We finished that in about 30 minutes, and then we watched a short film about the fundamentals of reading. After the film, our teacher, Mr. Simms, told us we had to do a summary on the film for homework, and then class was over. After that, it was Block 4, Government. We talked about George W. Bush. We had a lot of heated discussion about him. I said, “I think George Bush is running America into the ground. Think about it. The tragedy of September 11, 2001 happened while he was the president. I think he needs to be impeached. He’s not doing a really good job.” Another student said, “I actually LIKE George W. Bush. He’s bringing America UP not DOWN.

Another student said, “Well, it happened under HIM. And why hasn’t he caught Osama Bin Laden yet? Bush is wasting time and money with Iraq,” the student who defended Bush said, “Well; it is hard to find a sneaky criminal mastermind rat like Osama.”

“How do we even know Osama did crash the airplanes into the World Trade center buildings and The Pentagon? Where is the proof?” Another student asked.

“The proof is on the news and in the newspapers. Osama was seen on live tape talking about what he did with the airplanes,” I answered him. Was this student living under a rock?

“Well, how do we know that that was Osama and not some imposter?” The same student asked.

He was right. How could we tell that Osama really had confessed to the doings of September 11th? Any Iraqi male could imposter Osama.

I told him he had a valid point. He said, “Than you.” This was sort of a “free day” and we just sat around talking about government in general for a long while. Then it was lunch time.

At lunch, I had chicken legs, mashed potatoes, whole milk, and a fruit cup. As I ate, I thought about the U.S. Government. How DID America stack up against other nations? I knew some countries were envious of us, but I also knew some countries spat on us. Hmm. After lunch, we went back to block 4. We began talking about George W. Bush again.

“Didn’t Jeb Bush throw away votes for Al Gore so that George could win?” One student stated/asked.

“That was just a rumor,” our teacher, Mr. Kelley answered.

“Didn’t Cubans vote for George Bush because they thought that George Bush would help overthrow Castro?” Another student asked.

“And how was Bush going to help overthrow another country’s dictator?” I replied. “I am sure that was just a rumor too.”

“I heard a rumor that George Bush wanted to have mandatory year round school for all schools in the country,” another student said. “Thank god that didn’t happen.”

“If that did happen, I am sure Congress would step in. They have more power than the President, don’t you know? “I replied.

“They do?” Another student replied mystified.

Mr. Kelley said, “Darryl’s right. As a whole, Congress can overrule the President.”

“That’s interesting,” another student replied. A few other students murmured in agreement.

“Can they PLEASE tell George Bush to go away?” One student joked.

Mr. Kelley said, “They can impeach the President if he does something really bad.”

“Like letting airplanes crash into the World trade Center and Pentagon?” The same student retorted, being a smart aleck.

“I guess they didn’t think that warranted an impeachment,” Mr. Kelley replied.

We talked more about the President and government, and then class was over. For homework we had to write a letter to ‘George Bush”, telling him what we thought about September 11th. Actually, Mr. Kelley was going to be “George Bush.”

In Block 6, I had Intro to Computers. In that class, we had to do an assignment on Word. We had to write a Creative Story. My story was about a soldier who comes home to see his one true love, his girlfriend of two years, after being in the Navy for the past 3 months. I was kind of graphic without being sleazy or pornographic with their love scenes. (Basically, it was a LOT of making out and hugging, but nothing more). I hit save and Print and turned it in. Then we had to do some Excel Spreadsheets. After the Excel assignment, we had “free time”. I went to the internet and went on Yahoo.com to watch some music videos. I watched “Fallin” by Alicia Keys, “You Drive Me Crazy” by Britney Spears, “Uh-Huh” by B2K, and “Lucky Star” by Madonna. When I was done watching the videos, there were still 30 minutes left.

I asked for a pass to get the transcript signed. My teacher, Mr. Randall said okay. (I have four male teachers). I went to Mr. Wilkerson’s room and got him to sign it. Then I took the signed paper to the office and they switched my Math class. Then I rushed back to my computer class. There were still 10 minutes left.

I took out my CD player and listened to my Ciara CD again for the remaining time (we are allowed to listen to music quietly if we have free time).

When class was over, I drove home again. I had the same routine again. I don’t want to go into detail.

The next day, I showed up at Mr. Wilkerson’s room. I was amazed that there were only about 10 other students in remedial Math. Mr. Smith’s class had about 28 students. Mr. Wilkerson had me introduce myself to the class. “Hi. I’m Darryl Johnson, a transfer from Mr. Smith’s Math class,” I said, smiling a little nervously.

“Hi, welcome” everyone warmly said. I felt a lot better and began to relax.

Mr. Wilkerson gave me a diagnostic test. At first, I did fine with the basic Math, but once again stuck with the harder ones. Mr. Wilkerson told me I didn’t have to finish all of the test since this was a diagnostic test. I just had to go as far as I knew; I did all of the integers problems, since I could now ace them, since Mr. Smith had taught me how to do them. I left questions that were advanced blank, I turned it in. Mr. Wilkerson checked my test while I tried to get to know the other students. There were three Hispanics, Jason Ales, a Cuban, Pablo Ales (they were not related), a Puerto Rican, Jorge Jimenez, a cuban, and everybody else were Haitians.(About 58% of North Niami High is Haitian. We even have a BIG schoolwide celebration on May 18th for Haitian Flag Day.) There were Patrick Hens, Daphne Walton, Octavia Pierce, Willie Anston, Jim Inns, Richard Andrews, Karen Wilson, and Jean Doors (just because they had American sounding last names didn’t mean they weren’t Haitian). They all seemed really nice.

After I got to know everybody, my test was graded. Mr. Wilkerson said I was really good at basic Math and integers, but didn’t know other advanced Math besides integers. I knew that. To make a long story short, he helped me a lot with Advanced Math. I really don’t want to go into detail about Math. I will just say, I understood much more about Math than I had before.

My name is Donathan, pronounced the same way you pronounce Jonathan, except with a D.😀 Hitting on a Lesbian who speaks to you and about you like trash means you're REALLY desperate! 😀




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I donated!

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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Tiz Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 02 May 2012 at 10:16pm
Boy this place just gets better & better every day.Sick
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Donathan Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 02 May 2012 at 10:47pm

Part 7

The week went by fast, and some of the following went by fast as well. On Wednesday, Mr. Kurns called me into his office and gave me my test results.

Mr. Johnson, your SAT scores are Verbal, 1700, Written, 1800, Math 1350. Your FCAT Scores are English, Number 4, reading, 4, and your Math was a 3. Your IQ is 120.

I nodded my head slowly, showing that I was being attentive. Those were pretty good scores. My IQ was 120? That’s Superior! I’m a genius! I’m a genius! I inwardly gloated.

I put my test results in my book bag. Mr. Kurns said, “And now here comes the good part. (He smiled at me jokingly, because everything was a “good part”). “You have been accepted at Marshall Johnson Academy School in Jacksonville.”

“I was accepted! I had so many emotions running through me. I was excited, nervous, scared, and exhilarated.

“You will finish this school year as a sophomore, but after this year, you are going to Johnson!” He was giving me a big smile.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Johnson.” He shook my hand warmly.

After that day, I worked very hard in Math. I even got my Math average up to a “B.” I finally got on the Honor Roll! I had just needed Mr. Wilkerson’s help.

I finished Sophomore Year with a 3.98 Grade Point Average. On the last day of school, I said goodbye to a lot of students, faculty, and staff. They knew I had been accepted at Johnson.

Over summer break, I began packing for my new life in Jacksonville. My mom came in while I was packing and said, “You know, Darryl, I’m going to miss you.” She had tears in her eyes.

“I know. I’m gonna miss you too,” I said. She wrapped me up in a big hug. I was going to be leaving on Monday, in two days. I hugged her back and gave her a watery smile.

Two days later, on Monday, June 12th, it was the big Moving Day! My mom had had a big going away for me party yesterday and it was like a big family reunion! (And my three best friends were there too). It was so much fun! We even had a cake that had candles on it and mom told me to make a wish (I wished for good luck in Johnson, just so you know). It was just like having a birthday party! I obeyed mom and gave mom the first slice. Who else could I give it to besides my mom? No one! There was music and lively conversation. Everybody wished me good luck. The atmosphere was very festive.

Today, mom gathered Julian, Sean, Mario, my cousin Tasha, and me in her Ford SUV. Dad picked up some of my other family members in his Ford Expedition. Mom put my luggage in her trunk. We drove to The Miami International Airport. At the Airport, everybody came out of either an SUV or an Expedition. My luggage was checked, I gave my ticket, and my ID was checked. Mom asked everyone to pray for me and we stood in a line and prayed for my well-being and for me to be blessed. We gave thanks that I was going to Jacksonville and asked for protection while on the journey to Jacksonville/Johnson and for protection wheel I was at Johnson/Jacksonville. After praying, everybody hugged me. Mom and dad gave me a LOT of spending money, and as my plane was called, I was overcome with emotion. I began to cry. Sean, Mario, and Julian were hugged me, Tasha gave me a kiss on the cheek, and mom hugged me after my friends did. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and told me she loved me. Dad playfully rubbed my head, looked at me with proud eyes, and told me he loved me. (I pushed the “begrudger” thought in the back of my mind). Then mom gave me one last hug and said she loved me too. Everybody said, “Goodbye for now, Darryl.” I began to walk backwards towards my gate. I blew them all kisses and mouthed, “I love you all,” and waved goodbye. They waved goodbye back.

I soon boarded the plane. The plane was a big American Airlines 747 Jet. I had a window seat, and I put my carry on luggage on the top rack compartment. I was shocked when I saw who my partner was. The boy looked just like my partner from the Ride Of Doom dream! I did a shocked double take. Actually, he looked a LOT like that boy! If I didn’t know any better, I would say that WAS him! I kept staring at him. He noticed me staring.

”Um, hi,” he said, sounding a little upset. I knew what lied in his greeting. Why the hell is he staring at me like that?

“I’m sorry. You look just like someone I’ve seen before, “I said simply. I was not about to tell him I saw someone who looked exactly like him in my dreams. That would freak him out. Imagine me saying, “Hi! I’ve seen you in my dreams!” And imagine him saying, “Airline Security! Get me away from this loony bin!”

“I’m Darryl,” I said amicably.

“I’m Johnny,” he said softly. Johnny was a fair-skinned boy with chestnut brown short wavy hair. He looked to be 115 pounds and about 5’6.

“So, how old are you?” I asked him.

“I’m 13. How old are you?” He asked back.

“I’m 16,” I answered him.

“I’m going to Tallahassee,” Johnny told me. “I’m going to see my grandma,” he said smiling.

“I’m going to Jacksonville to go to Marshall Johnson,” I said.

“What’s a Marshall Johnson?” Johnny asked me, furrowing his brow.

“It’s a prep school,” I answered him.

“Oh, cool,” Johnny said. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I smiled at him. “So, are you going to spend your summer with grandma?” I asked him.

“Yeah. She’s the coolest grandma ever! She’s totally awesome!” Johnny said, his whole face beaming.

“I see you love Grandma a lot, I said wryly, giving him a little smile.

“Yeah.”

The “Seatbelts” signal went on and we buckled our seatbelts. Then the plane took off. The turbulence was like a loud whooshing in my ears. I wished I had brought some gum to chew.

After takeoff, the plane flew smoothly. Johnny was an amicable kid (meaning he talked a LOT), but he was an entertaining kid.

“So, Darryl, what kind of video games to you play?” Johnny asked me.

“I play Mario Brothers,” I answered him.

“I like to play Sonic,” he answered, but MB is cool too.”

“Is Sonic that blue thing that looks like a porcupine?” I asked.

“Sonic is a hedgehog and he is cool. He has super running sneakers. He beats up a bad scientist that so that he can save animals that turn into robots.

“I thought that all Sonic did was run around,” I said, impressed. “He’s a hero.”

“Yeah, he is,” Johnny agreed.

Johnny took out a handheld Gameboy Advance and played Sonic The Hedgehog. Oh my goodness, that Hedgehog could run! Johnny wasn’t lying!

Sonic could zoom straight through “Acts” at a breakneck speed, but that wasn’t recommended, as Sonic had to dodge fireballs, hit robot animals for points (the “robots” turn into birds when hit), and avoid “squishes” (these “squishes” were obstacles that killed Sonic if Sonic didn’t maneuver through them correctly.

Johnny asked me if I would like to play. I said, “Sure.” Johnny handed me the game console. I super-ran through The Marble Zone (not straight through it though. I played the game correctly). At the end of the Marble Zone, I got to meet Dr. Robotnik, a power mad evil scientist. I tried to jump on him, but that wasn’t working, because he wasn’t dying. He put flames on the ground, and I tried once again to kill him by jumping on him, but I fell into the flames and died. I got two more chances, and tried to kill Dr. Robotnik both of those times, but died both times, and then Game Over appeared on the screen. Did “Game Over” mean to start all over from scratch? From Act One? 9Dr. Robotnik is in Act Three). I hoped not. The SEGA Logo appeared and I knew it meant to start over from scratch.

Johnny looked at me and then at the game. “Don’t worry. I have a bag full of new batteries.” He showed me a bag full of about 10 more batteries. “You can play until you get to Jacksonville,” he offered graciously.

Play Sonic until I got to Jacksonville? I repeated in my mind . No thank you.

Out loud I said, “I really don’t feel like playing Sonic anymore. (The game is a trip). You can get 80 rings, and then one robot animal touches you, and you lose them all. Rings are your protection for life. Instead of losing them one by one as each animal touches you, you lose them all. Rings are easy to get, but easy to lose. 100 rings give you an extra life. And it’s near impossible to beat Dr. Robotnik at the end of Act 3.

“Okay,” Johnny said. He turned off the power. Then he kept yakking about video games. After a while, he yakked himself to sleep.

As he slept, I reminisced about Robin. When I was 14, my mother married a man named Robin. My stepfather was abusive to me. He would grab me and shake me violently, and then give me powerful blows to my head. He would pick me up and body slam me onto our wooden floor. He once gave me a black eye. He would act like the perfect stepfather and husband around my mother, hugging me only when she was around and would tell us that he was glad to have me as a stepson. When my mother was not around, evil, maniac,psycho Robin came out and would really lay it on me. I was scared of robin, but I knew my mother loved Robin and called him the man of her dreams, so I suffered in silence.

I would visible tense whenever I was around Robin and would be totally uncomfortable. My mother just thought that I was shy around Robin. Then, one day, Robin gave me a black eye. I put on black sunglasses and went to my room. My mother later came into my room, and I quickly turned away from her, covering the side of my face with my hand.

“Darryl, what’s wrong? Why are you wearing your sunglasses at night? You are not Corey Hart.” She noticed I kept looking away from her. I didn’t want her to see my black eye.

“Look at me,” she demanded softly, but firmly. I turned in her direction. With the sunglasses on, she couldn’t see my black eye.

“Now, take off the sunglasses.”

“Um, I can’t. It’s for a Science experiment,” I lied.

“Science experiment?” She questioned suspiciously.

“Yeah,” I continued to lie.

I knew she didn’t believe me. She knew I was lying.

“What happens in the experiment?” she asked me with narrowed eyes.

“We have to see if the Ozone layer affects us while we are wearing sunglasses.”

“Ozone Layer? Yeah sure,” she replied, unconvinced.

I knew it was a crappy lie, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

She took off my sunglasses. “No!” I screamed in protest. She gasped, very shocked. “What happened to your eye?” She screamed, demandingly.

“I uh. I uh,”……. walked into a door, and it gave me a black eye,” I lied.

“Who did this to you?” You did NOT walk into a door!” She demanded.

“I told you, I walked into a door,” I lied desperately.

“You liar! Someone’s been beating you up!” she screamed, frantically.

“No! No one’s been beating me up!” I lied, even more desperately.

“Robin! Come here! Look at Darryl’s eye! Someone gave him a black eye!” She screamed, sounding really upset.

Robin came in. “Oh my gosh Darryl!” What happened to your eye?” he asked, doing a real good job of pretending to be shocked.

He should have won the Oscar.

I glared at him when mom was not looking.

“Darryl says he walked into a door, but I think someone’s been beating him up,” she said, sounding panicked.

It’s true; I walked into a door, “I insisted, knowing I was really telling a bold-faced lie.

“Stop lying, Darryl! She yelled. “Stop lying! Stop protecting whoever’s hurting you!’ She soon collapsed into tears. It hurt me to see my mother cry, but I couldn’t tell her about precious Robin.

Robin put a comforting arm around her. “I’ll give Darryl some ice and frozen meat to put on the eye,” he said softly.

“Thank you,” she said, still sobbing.

Robin put ice and frozen meat on my eye. He’s a really good actor, I thought as he treated my black eye (that he caused)

 
My name is Donathan, pronounced the same way you pronounce Jonathan, except with a D.😀 Hitting on a Lesbian who speaks to you and about you like trash means you're REALLY desperate! 😀




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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote MrTim Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 02 May 2012 at 11:05pm
Originally posted by Donathan Donathan wrote:

Robin put ice and frozen meat on my eye. He’s a really good actor, I thought as he treated my black eye (that he caused)
 
 
Coming in part 8:  Flashback of Robin giving Darryl ice and frozen meat to put on his bruised butthole....  Shocked
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Part 8
 
After that, Robin and mom left. I wrote a “story” about my abusive stepfather. I wrote, “There was a boy named Larry (Larry is “Darryl” without the “D” and rearranged letters, he had a stepfather named Bob (If Robert can have Bob as a nickname, couldn’t Robin also, because of the “Rob” ), and a mother named Andie (My mother’s name is Sandra, and I decided to say “Andie” because “Sandy” is the nickname for Sandra, and I dropped the “S” to make Andy, then put “Andie” to make it feminine. The names I chose took creative thought. It is common assumption that “Larry” is the nickname for Lawrence, Bob the nickname for Robert, and Andie the nickname for Andrea or Aundrea.

In the story, I wrote that Bob used Larry as a punchbag, but Andie had no idea. She didn’t see the fear in Larry’s eyes when Bob was around. She didn’t pay attention to Larry locking his room door when Bob was home. Andie thought everything was A-Ok. Then she found Larry on their driveway one day, bleeding from his mouth and gasping to breathe. She rushed him to the ER, he was treated, and then he told the truth about precious Bob. (I was thinking of the possibility of Robin doing something really fatal to me when I wrote that part.) Andie quickly found out that Bob was beating up Larry when she secretly spied on them. She immediately divorced Bob, and Larry and Andie’s relationship got even stronger.

I quickly put my story in my folder and put it in one of my drawers and went to bed.

When I awoke, my mother was in my room. “Robin told me what he did to you. He confessed that he’s been abusing you for months,” she said, looking at me with pained eyes.

“Yeah. He has been abusing me. He’s the one who gave me the black eye, “I confirmed.

My mother looked at me intently. “I made that up. Robin said he didn’t know where you got that black eye,” she said softly.

“Oh.” I said. I realized I had just spilled the beans.

“I figured Robin had been abusing you,” she said. She told me she had found my story, read it, and found it strange how similar the names sounded to Robin, Darryl, and Sandra. She confronted Robin, he confessed and they got their marriage annulled. I was so happy to be free of him, but sad that mom’s love turned out to be such a jerk. I tried to console her by saying she would find another man, one who was better than Robin, but she said she didn’t need any consoling, but thanked me.

Back to the present. Johnny had woken up and was once again yakking about video games. He yakked for 30 more minutes, and then I said that I was going to sleep. I did for about 30 minutes. When I awoke, the captain was saying that we were passing over Disneyworld in Orlando, Florida! I looked out of the window and looked down at Disneyworld! It was great! I wished Johnny could see it to, but in order for him to see it too, we would have to get permission from the stewardess. I asked the stewardess if we could switch seats, and she agreed. We did, and Johnny’s face lit up as he watched Disneyworld and other Orlando attractions such as Sea World and Universal Studios! After we passed Orlando, we got permission to switch back and Johnny was happy. His whole face beamed! “That was cool!” Johnny said, excited!

“I was glad Johnny was happy, even though I myself missed out. Johnny began to yak about Orlando attractions for another long while, and then we ate lunch. We had bread, butter, baked potatoes, mixed vegetables, pork chops, and apple juice. After lunch, Johnny and I both read Choose Your Own Adventure! (Books where you choose your own outcomes).

The plane arrived in Jacksonville, Florida a couple of hours later. After landing, I got my luggage and said bye to Johnny. “Good luck with Grandma,” I said. “Good luck with Johnson,” he said back. I asked for Johnny’s number (I had received a 1000 Anytime Cell Phone by my mother at the airport in MIA.) Johnny gave it to me. I put it in my pocket, and we both said goodbye. I went into Jacksonville Airport. There were so many people bustling around. It was great. I called for a cab to take me to 12450 S.W. Great Street. That would be my new home. I looked around Jacksonville. It was all new to me, but it was also the same. Jacksonville really didn’t look much different than Miami.

After the cab dropped me off at Johnson, I paid the fare and stood in front of Johnson for the first time. Johnson was a big estate. The main building was a brick building with three stories. I walked into the building.

Inside the building, there was a student tour guide who welcomed me.

“Hey, young man! How are you doing? You are walking in the finest institution in Jacksonville! He said, eagerly with a big smile.

“Hi,” I answered him. Hey Skippy, I thought in my mind. He looked like a “Skippy” to me. Preppy, perky, and eager.

He asked me if I wanted a tour of the school. I said, “Sure,” “Skippy” led me around the school. “Johnson was founded in 1898,” he told me proudly. “It’s been here for 107 years.

I gasped in sheer amazement. “That’s great,” I said impressed. I actually can’t wait to start school here,” I said, smiling eagerly too.

He smiled at me, and said, I agree with you,”

We went to a lecture hall. “Here is where students spend their time to do free stud,” he said. He took me to the dining hall, the gymnasium, the main classes hallways, the dorms, the auditorium, swimming pools, tennis courts, and golf courses. After the tour, he said, “I forgot to properly introduce myself. I’m Max Cartwright. I’m 18 years old and one of the Student Tour Guide s and one of the dorm parents. You probably figured out some of that last part.” He chuckled. He really seemed like a nice person. “What’s your name?” He asked me.

“My name is Darryl Johnson,” I answered.

“You’re a Johnson?” he repeated with raised eyebrows. “You could try to “play” a joke on fellow students and say you are a descendant of Marshall Johnson,” he suggested.

Skippy, I mean Max, must have been smoking something if he believed anybody would fall for me being a descendant of M. Johnson. M. Johnson was White. I was African-American. Anyway, I did like Max. He was very friendly.

Skippy (Max) was a 6'5, lean guy, with pink skin, and with short blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. He was wearing Johnson’s uniform: Tan pants with a white shirt and tan tweed jacket, with black penny loafers. Each student was provided with 5 outfits.

I thanked Max, said goodbye, and then went to my dorm (Max had given me my dorm key). My dorm was dorm 309 in Alexander Hall. I unlocked the door and stepped inside. I gasped! The dorm looked just like a four-star hotel suite! It was amazing! There were two beds, which I knew meant that I would be having a dorm mate. I put my luggage on the bed and emptied its contents. I began to pack the drawers with my clothes. There was a Zenith TV in the dorm, a Dell Computer with internet access, and a bookshelf with lots of Literature books such as Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell, Pride and Prejudice, and Sense and Sensibility both by Jane Austen.

I had just settled myself on a bed when the dorm opened. I looked to see who would be my new dorm mate.

He walked in, carrying two luggage suitcases. He was tall, about 6’3, lean, and had short brown hair. His skin color was pink. He looked up (he had been looking down at his luggage), and smiled a welcoming smile when he saw me. I saw that he had chocolate-brown eyes.

“Hi,” I’m Dave,” he said, offering me a handshake.

I accepted it and said, “Hi. I’m Darryl.”
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Part 9
 
After we shook hands, Dave went to his bed and sat/leaned on it. “So, are you nervous about school?” He asked me.

“A little nervous,” I confessed. Tomorrow would be the first day of school.

“Well, I’m a returning student, and I can tell you, this school is not so bad. You’ll be fine,” Dave said. He gave me a reassuring smile.

“Thanks.” I smiled back at him.

“No problem,” Dave said back to me. I already liked this school. Dave and Skippy were so welcoming. I liked them.

Dave unpacked his suitcases and put away his things into his own drawers. After he was done, he asked me about my life.

“So, how did you get here?”

“I got here on a scholarship,” I answered him.

“How did you get that?”

“My mom wanted me to apply for a scholarship, so she told me to apply for one.”

“Oh. Did you get the scholarship right away?”

“I found out I got it after a little over a week.”

“How did you feel when you got the scholarship?”

Some people would have been put off by Dave’s questions and would have thought that Dave was a nosy busybody. But I liked Dave and didn’t mind. I just laughed and answered, “I felt happy.”

“How do you like Johnson so far?” Dave asked.

“I like it. The tour guide is so nice,” I answered.

“You mean Max?” Dave asked. I nodded. “Yeah, he is really nice. He’s one of the sweetest guys around, “Dave said, looking really sentimental.

I suddenly wondered if the two of them had a thing together.

“Are you and Max……….um?” I didn’t want to ask directly, though.

Dave said, “Oh no. We don’t like each other that way. I just admire his sweet nature.”

“Oh,” I said.

Dave left the dorm. I soon fell asleep. Dave woke me up at 7:20. “Come on, get up! It’s time to get ready for school! Here is your uniform.” He gave me a uniform outfit (they looked like the ones Skippy had on yesterday).

“Thank you Dave” I said, thanking him for the uniforms and for waking me up.

“You’re welcome,” Dave answered me.

I sleepily made my way to the bathroom. (Every dorm had its own bathroom). The bathroom was white with a long counter with a sink in the middle of it. There were two towels, one was blue, and the other one was orange.

“Dave, which towel is yours?” I asked.

“The orange one,” he answered.

Dave came into the bathroom without knocking.

“Dave! I admonished him. “You can’t come in without knocking first! I could have been doing………….things.”

“Sorry,” he said. He left, closing the door. Then he knocked.

“Come in,” I said, laughing.

He opened the door and came in.

“I just wanted to tell you where everything was,” Dave said. “The Crest toothpaste is in the top drawer. That’s yours. The blue unopened toothbrush in the same drawer is yours too. My toothbrush is Complete Care. The pink toothbrush is mine. Those two are in the middle draw.”

“We can’t share toothbrushes?” I cracked.

“I wouldn’t mind sharing my Complete Care with you, but you wouldn’t like to share my toothbrush. I have tons of plaque and tartar build-up,” Dave said, smiling.

I asked Dave to look away as I undressed to take a shower. He did.

I went into the shower and closed the curtain. I told Dave he could look anywhere he wanted to now. The shower was really a shower and not a shower/bathtub. The showerhead had 5 different spa settings. I luxuriously showered. I washed with the Dove Bar that was in the soap dish. The water felt so good, and the soap smelled so good that I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to shower for a LONG time. I was in the shower for at least 30 minutes before Dave said, “Darryl! Class starts at 8:30. Do you know it’s 8:05? You’re gonna be late!”

I finished the shower and rushed out. I quickly wiped, put on my clothes, brushed my teeth, and put on my uniform. I quickly brushed my hair, packed my bookbag, put on lotion, and then put on deodorant.

Dave said, “You’re too late to eat “real” breakfast in the dining hall, so here’s a Nutrigrain Bar.” He handed me an Apple Cinnamon Bar (the green colored wrapper). I gratefully accepted it, ate it, and then Dave and I walked to Marshall Johnson school.

I looked at my schedule. My first class would be Intro to Psychology. Dave and I only had two classes together. We said, “Goodbye.”

I walked into Room 101, in the first building. When I went inside, I saw that the seats looked just like the ones from North Miami Senior High. The seats had wooden tops, with a chair attached to the top. Under the seats, you could put books in a little tray. I sat in the third aisle, third row.

Our professor (here they were professors, in N.M. they had been teachers), was a tall balding man with horn-rimmed glasses, pink skin, and a bit of a gut. His eyes were gray.

I looked at the clock. It was 8:31. Other students began filing in. A boy with close cropped brown hair walked in. Another boy with curly red hair came in. Another boy with stringy black hair came in. Another boy with spiky blond hair walked in. More boys came in. A total of 15 boys (including me) were in this class.

Where are there only boys in this class? Where are the babes? You may be wondering. This is an all-boys school. It’s also a predominantly White school. There are only a handful of Blacks, Hispanics, Asians, and Middle-Eastern students here. And when I say handful, I mean like 5 minority students of each minority.

In my psych class, we read about Jeffrey Dahmer, the guy who raped people (mostly guys), tortured and then killed them, and then ate their (dead) bodies. Eew, eew, eew. Gives a new meaning to the term “Loves to eat.” Nasty! Then we had to talk about how J.D. made us feel.

“It’s disgusting,” I said. I wanted to throw up.

“It’s abominable,” Rick Small said.

“I’m glad he’s dead,” Jorge Lopez said. “We’re rid of a person like that.”

“What was wrong with his mind?” Milton Wakeman asked.

Professor Watson answered, “He obviously had a chemical brain imbalance.”

“I think I’m going to have nightmare for weeks,” Rodney Kelly said, shuddering.

Other students murmured disapproving sayings too. After the class was over, it was time for my Remedial Math. (Even though I had gotten a “B” last year in the final semester, North Miami staff still told Johnson I needed Remedial Math. In Remedial Math, there were 10 students (including me). Our professor was a man who looked about 60 years old, but had a full head of hair. (All of my professors are White, so I don’t have to explain their skin colors). He had blue eyes and was about 5’12.

In Remedial Math, we did basic fractions. I really don’t like Math THAT much, so I really will sum up my first class: You have to do the reciprocal of the fractions you see in order to start working on them. (Reciprocal means flip it around).

After R.M, there was Western Philosophy. We had to talk about Socrates, the Philosopher. I’m thinking, “That’s that Greek guy, right?” In my middle school, Thomas Jefferson, Mr. Wright had discussed Socrates with us, but that was over three years ago. I hadn’t really kept in “touch” with Socrates since then.
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Part 10
 
I kept my mouth shut and let the others discuss him. The discussion was interesting and I listened with ears wide open. Then Professor Bryan asked why I wasn’t participating in the discussion. I answered, “I barely know Socrates. We used to talk about him when I was in the 8th grade, but I haven’t thought of him too much since that grade.” I told the truth.

Professor Bryan said, “Now, that’s an honest answer, but I want you to do a report on Socrates to get to “know” him better.”

“Oh, man,” I grumbled. A report on my first day.

“It’s due a week from today,” Professor Bryan said.

“Okay,” I said. My first homework assignment from Johnson! (I HAD to do well in this school because scholarships are only kept for students doing well in schools).

The class talked more about Socrates, and then class was over, and it was lunch time. I went into the dining hall. The dining hall looked like a banquet hall. There were flowers in vases and beautiful Formica long tables. The food was like a buffet. There were fried chicken, white rice, potato salad, mixed vegetables, bread, butter, and beverage choices such as fruit punch, whole milk, 2 percent milk, 1 percent milk, and skim milk, Pepsi, Coca-Cola, Orange Minute Maid soda, and Evian water. We were served on China plates and had silverware for utensils. I chose fried chicken, potato salad, bread and butter, and some fruit punch.

I saw Dave and sat next to him. He smiled at me.

“Hey, Champ. How’s the first day of school treating you?” Dace asked.

“It’s fine,” I replied.

“Good.” Dave smiled.

Skippy came up to us.

“Hi, Darryl. He Dave,” Skippy said to us smiling.

“Hey Max,” Dave said smiling.

‘Hey,” I said back to Skippy.

Skippy had his own plate of food. He sat down next to me. We all began to eat our food. The food was delicious. It tasted like a chef, not a cook, cooked these delicious foods. (Being in a boarding school, I wondered if a chef did cook these foods).

We all chatted about the school, and soon, lunch was over. Dave and I had the next class together, Botanical Science. We sat down next to each other. Our professor this time only looked like he was only about 28. He was lean, muscular, and tall. (I know, about everyone in this school had brown hair). He kind of looked like a younger Bob Saget (Danny from Full House).

Our first Botanical Science class was about the original scientific names for flowers and plants. We did that for the whole class.

After class, it was time for my History class. For my History class, we studied World War 2. We studied the Holocaust. I shuddered when I read that babies were being thrown into fires under the command of the heinous Adolf Hitler. A.H. was just mean and nasty! I don’t even want to go into detail about him! Nasty man!

After that class, I had Advanced English. We had to proofread college essays from Jacksonville College. After proofreading those essays, we had to proofread essays from the University of Florida. After that, class was over.

I went to my sixth class of the day, Drama. We learned the basics of acting, such as keeping your tone steady while doing diction (speaking). We did a few diction lessons, and then class was over. (Oh yeah, Dave is in this class too).

My final period of the day was French. We learned a few basic words (or reviewed them) such as “hello” is bon-jour, goodnight is bon-nuit (I figured bon-nuit was “goodnight” when I read a book that had a character calling a French restaurant, asking for her parents, and then says, ‘Bon-nuit” and hangs up the phone when she finds out that they have already left). We learned that “Thank you” was merci, Thank you very much is Merci bon coup, please is Sil Vous Plait, and a few other words.

After French class was over, Dave and I walked back to our dorms together. We both decided to just relax for a little while, so we lied down on our beds, just looking and feeling lazy. Soon we were chatting about school again and how we liked our first day.

“I have never had 7 periods in one day!” I exclaimed. “I used to have six periods a day in middle school, and I had 3 blocks a day in my old high school,” I continued.

“That’s how it is here,” Dave said, smiling. “You might as well work a full-time job.

I took out my cellphone from my pocket and called my mother. My phone has a camera in it. She gave me 1000 minutes and told me to use it sparingly (but 1000 minutes is only about 17 hours). I had already used an hour talking to her since I left the MIA airport. I had spoken to her on the plane, when I first arrived in Jacksonville, when I had arrived at Johnson, before I went to sleep last night, right before I went to my first class, and during lunch. Now I was going to speak to her again.

“Hi, mom,” I said when she picked up.

“Hi, sweetie,” she said warmly. “How was your first day?”

“Mom, it was good. I already told you how the first half of my day was, and I also told you the classes I took for the first half of the day. The second half of the day is Botanical Science, History, Drama, and French.”

“7 classes in one day? Woo,” she exclaimed. “Are you sure you can handle that?” she asked me.

“Mom, I used to take 6 classes a day, remember?” I reminded her.

“Yeah, I know, but this is a private school. The work is much harder,” she pointed out.

“Mom, you are right,” I agreed with her. ‘I already have to do a report on Socrates,” I mildly lamented.

“That’s exciting.” She said wryly.

“I know,” I replied wryly too. “I can’t wait for the fun to begin,” I said sarcastically.

“I have to go to work, Darryl. Bye. I love you,” she said, and gave me a kiss over the phone. “Bye, I love you too,” I said, and gave her a kiss back. We hung up.

I had 7 books to NOT lug around (I had a “rollie” bookbag, so I didn’t have to carry 7 books on my back. I began to thumb through my books, trying to prepare for the next day’s lessons. After a few minutes, I got bored, so I closed the books and watched some T.V. Dave was quietly doing his studies. (I would go back to studying later).

I watched Moesha. It was the episode where she wanted to buy her own car and Frank said, ‘If you want to buy a car, you have to limbo under this price,” and she said, with an uneasy look on her face, “That’s a low bar.” Then I watched a TRL rerun. After TRL, I began to study again. I studied for an hour. Then, I figured I had studied enough for the first day, and began to leave the dorm.

“Where are you going?” Dave asked.

“I’m going to walk around the campus to get some fresh air,” I said.

“Okay,” Dave said.

I left. I walked around the campus, and stopped at the student hangout, student Life (outside). Inside is where student planning and events are held. Outside is where students “chill.” I went to a bench and sat there for a while, musing about Jacksonville and Johnson. It was so different here. Here, everyone wore tan uniforms. In North Miami high, the closest thing anyone wore to tan was Khaki, and in North Miami high, students didn’t wear any uniforms. In North Miami high there were less than 300 white students (I mean, Caucasian), in a student population of over 3,000. In North Miami, we were protected from the cold of winter most of the time by the Florida Everglades Swamp. Don’t ask, but the everglades swamp is so warm, its warmness goes to North Miami. Jacksonville is further from The Everglades Swamp than North Miami, so it doesn’t get ‘protected” from the cold winter. Don’t get me wrong, though. Sometimes North Miami’s temperature drops as low as the 30’s. But usually the lowest the degrees go are between 40-63. Sometimes, it is 80 degrees in December! Thank you Everglades!

I sat for a few more minutes, and then I got up and walked back to my dorm. I entered the dorm and called Johnny.

“Hi, Darryl,” he said. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” I answered. “How’s Grandma?”

“She’s fine,” Johnny answered me.

“So, how ya doing?” I asked.

“I’m fine too,” Johnny answered me.

Johnny and I chatted for a few more minutes, and then we hung up. Then I called Sean.

“Hey, what’s up, G?” I asked Sean. “How’s it going in north Miami?”

“It’s fine. We miss ya, G,” Sean answered me.

“I miss ya’ll too,” I replied. “Doin’ anymore “earnin?” I asked him.

“Yeah. We got $900.00 yesterday,” Sean replied. “How’s it goin’ at Johnson?” he asked me.

It’s straight,” I replied.

Sean asked, “They ain’t workin’ ya too hard?”

“No,” I replied.

Sean said, “Good for ya.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, and then we hung up. I called Julian and we chatted for a few minutes, and then hung up. Then I called Mario. Julian, Mario, and I had basically chatted about the same things Sean and I had chatted about.

Soon, it was dinner time. Dave and I went to the dining hall. We had Pizza Hut Stuffed Crust Pepperoni Pizza, corn, and drank strawberry soda, and then went back to the dorm. I took a bath and changed for bed. I called my mom again, and basically told her goodnight. I went to sleep, and when I awoke it was time to get ready for school. Dave and I got ready for school. A brief run through of my second day: I did a lot more homework the second day of school, and ended up with 7 hours of homework. For lunch, I had turkey and wild rice, and drank Coke. After school, I decided to buckle down and work straight for a few hours, break, and then start again. Since we come home before 5, I started at 5 and worked until 8, then Dave and I ate lobster, scalloped potatoes, and drank some grape juice until 8:35 in the dining hall, we came back to the dorm about 8:41, I called my mother at 8:45 and spoke to her until 9:00, and took a bath until 9:25. 9:30-1:30, I finished my homework, and went to sleep around 2:00. (It takes me a while to fall asleep).

When I awoke, it was 7:30. I quickly woke up Dave, and took a 15 minute shower. I brushed my teeth, dressed, and brushed my hair. It was about 7:55 when Dave came rushing in. He quickly showered, brushed his teeth and hair, and dressed too. We both finished getting ready and Dave smiled at me and said, “Nutrigrain Bar?” I replied with a smile, “Nutrigrain Bar?” We both ate Nutrigrain Bars and RAN to campus. We made it at the campus at 8:25. It took about 3 minutes to get to my class and about 4 minutes to get to Dave’s class.

More work for the third day. The reason I am not really going into detail about my actual classes is because I want to get to the parts that happen OUTSIDE of classes. I already walked you through the first day of classes, and that’s the only day I’ll walk you through.

I was doing my report on Socrates in the school library (the library, believe it or not, has tons of books on Socrates). I had gathered books and had taken notes on him to type into our computer at the dorm, when I saw two brown-haired, brown-eyed guys sneering at me. I was thinking, “What’s their problem?” I looked away from them and continued to write names on my paper. When I had gathered enough info for my report, I walked out of the library, and started walking through Johnson’s front hall. As I was walking, I saw the Sneery guys.

“Go home Nig.”(That word that we black don’t like white people to call us, but I’ll only write the first 3 letters of that word. I will tell you that it ends like this: ger) Sneery Left said.

“Go back where you came from, Nig,” Sneery right said.

Did they just call me a “Nig?” I thought, seeing red. I wanted to fu both of them up (that “fu” word ends in a “ck”) How dare they call me a “Nig”?

The Sneerys left. I was so angry, I just yelled obscenities. Here is an edited spelling of what I said. (You can pretty much figure out the missing letters for yourself). “Oh fu this shi! Those fuing, fuing, fuing, shi-fuing bitchfuers, motherfuers!”
 
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Part 11
 
The dean came by. “Son, is there any particular reason you are using profanities?” He asked me gently.

‘I’m just mad about something,” I answered. I didn’t want to talk about it yet. “Well, please, do not use profanities. If you have any issues, you can talk to the counselor, George Green,” dean riley said gently.

“Thanks, Dean Riley,” I answered.

“You’re welcome,” he answered, and left.

I went back to the dorm. I was sure my thoughts were showing on my face. (They sometimes do).

Dave asked me what had happened. “Dave, two guys called me a Nig,” I said, fuming, almost exploding. I wanted to choke those guys (are at least pimp slap them). “I feel awful. I want to beat the shi out of those guys.” I was visibly shaking.

Dave put his arm around me. “It’s okay, Darryl, it’s okay,” he said, trying to comfort me. I looked at Dave. Dave was really a good friend, even though I hadn’t known even known him for five days.

“Dave, thanks, “I said.

“You’re welcome,” Dave replied.

I called my mom. “Mom, these two guys called me a Nig. They told me to go home.” My voice was breaking. I was really affected by this. I needed to speak to my mom. She was my rock. I could tell her anything.

“Honey, I’m sorry that happened to you. I know words hurt,” she said gently.

“Mom, I feel awful,” I confessed. “I want to beat them up.”

“Don’t beat them up. You don’t want to get expelled from a great school like Johnson for fighting,” Mom said.

“But mom, they degraded me. I want to get even with them,” I said.

“Remember what Eleanor Roosevelt said? ‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent’,” mom reminded me.

Mom was right, and I do always try to heed that quote, but I had trouble heeding that quote.

“Mom, Eleanor was never called a “Nig””, I reasoned.

“Nig is just a word. They are the ignorant ones for calling you that,” Mom said.

“Mom, were you ever called a “Nig””? I asked softly.

Mom paused for a while. Finally, she spoke. “Yes. I was called a nig before,” she answered me softly.

“And how did you feel?” I asked her softly.

“I wanted to kick those White kids’ asses. My own mother, your grandma, told me that violence was not the answer. She told me if I fought those White kids, I would just be giving them the satisfaction of seeing that they had me in the palm of their hands. So I didn’t beat them up. I put them in their place by acting like I couldn’t care about them less. They stopped harassing me,” Mom recalled.

“Thanks mom,” I said, feeling better. “You’re welcome,” she answered. We both said, “I love you,” and “Goodbye,” and then hung up.

I was still mad about them calling me a nig, even though I was going to heed my mom’s advice.

Dave asked me if I wanted chocolate-chip cookies to make me feel better. I said, “Sure,” and he went into our minifridge and pulled out 4 Nestle Tollhouse “Ready” cookies. He popped them into the microwave and when they were ready, we both got two cookies.

The cookies were so delicious, moist, and warm that I savored every bit of my first cookie. Dave watched me closely, while eating his own first cookie.

“Darryl, I am sorry that you were called a Nig. I would never call you a nig.”

“Thanks, Dave”, I said. I wondered something. “Dave, have you ever called someone a nig?

Dave paused before answering me. He looked hesitant, reluctant, regretful, and embarrassed. “Yes,” he admitted finally, and very softly, looking at me sheepishly.

“When did you?” I asked. “And why?” I also asked, not with hostility, trying to get him to know I wasn’t mad at him, I just wanted to know.

“When I was little, about 9 or 10, I thought that Nig a good word to call Blacks.” He blushed. “I didn’t mean it offensively. I called black people Nig because I heard them calling each other that all the time. I also heard White people calling them Nig too. I thought that Nig was an okay word for a White person to call Black people” He laughed self-depreciatively. I went up to blacks saying, “Hey Nig!” He laughed self-depreciatively again. “I was perplexed when they would give me angry scowls, and I would have a big question mark in my expression. Wasn’t Nig a good word to call Black people? Why were they angry with me? I had questioned in my mind. When an 11-year-old boy kicked me in my shins after I said, “Hi, Nig”, to him, I ran home crying to my mom.

I asked, “Mama, what’s a nig?” with my lip trembling.

“Why? Did you hear that somewhere? “She had asked me.

“I called Black people that word, and they got mad at me. Someone even kicked me in my shin when I called him that,” I had answered her. My mom said, “That’s a VERY bad word! Black people hate that word when White people call them that! Don’t you dare ever call another Black person that!” She was so adamant and vehement, I was scared. But she still hadn’t told me what it meant.

“Mama, what does it MEAN?” I emphasized.

“It means, ‘We White people are better than you Black people. You Blacks are ignorant and stupid. You are like dirt to us. We are superior to you Black people.’ “Is that what you meant when you called them Nigs? “ She asked me, trying to get me to see the point.

“No. I thought that Nig was a good word,” I had answered her.

“Why did you think that?” She asked calmer now.

“I heard Black people calling each other that, and I heard White people calling them that too,” I answered.

“Blacks can call each other Nigs, because when they say it to each other, that’s just their way of communicating with each other. When a White person calls them Nig, that’s usually said in a degrading term.,” she told me. Did the Black people like it when the White people called them that?” she asked me.

“I never paid any attention to the Black peoples’ reactions to the White people calling them that,” I confessed sheepishly.

“Now that you know you are not supposed to call Black people that, will you still call them that?” She asked me, staring at me hard.

“No, mama, no. I will never call Black people that again!” I promised her, and I still haven’t called Black people Nig to this day,” Dave concluded.

I (Darryl) felt better after Dave told me his story. I even laughed while he told me his story. “Thank you Dave for telling me that story,” I said with a smile.

“You’re welcome,” Dave replied. “Just pretend that the guys who called you a Nig just didn’t know any better, like what happened to me,” he advised me.

“No, I can’t “pretend””, I said, my expression turning serious again. “They really meant it. They sneered at me, Dave. They SNEERED,” I repeated again for emphasis.

Dave said, “Those guys are idiots. They didn’t know you. They just saw a skin color. You’re a great guy Darryl, and you are also very smart.”

I thanked him again, and he said, “No problem.” I did some homework, and Dave and I went to the dining hall again. As we were eating our chicken fingers, fries, and drank orange soda, I saw the Sneerys again.

I asked Dave if we could sit somewhere else. He asked me why, and I answered, “It’s too cold under here.”

We moved to another table, FAR away from the Snerrys. Dave and I finished our meal, and began to leave the dining hall. All of a sudden, the Sneerys stepped in front of us.

“Hey, Dave, you like Cookies and Cream?” Sneery Left asked.

“Hey, Dave, you got Jungle Fever?” Sneery Right asked.

“You like mixing your chocolate with your vanilla?” Sneery Left asked.

“You like the color gray?” Sneery Left asked.

“Leave us alone,” Dave said. I could tell he was feeling harassed.

“We already told your friend to go home, “Sneery Left said.

“And he’s still here,” Sneery Right said.

They were talking about me as if I wasn’t even there.

“Let’s go,” I said, pulling Dave’s arm.

Sneery Left said to me, “No, you didn’t want to “go” home when we told you to “go” earlier, so now you are going to “stay”. He said this, glaring at me menacingly.

He was scaring me.
My name is Donathan, pronounced the same way you pronounce Jonathan, except with a D.😀 Hitting on a Lesbian who speaks to you and about you like trash means you're REALLY desperate! 😀




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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote WalpurgisQuill Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10 May 2012 at 2:39pm
Dude.... you're a fag.
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Donathan Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10 May 2012 at 4:40pm
Originally posted by WalpurgisQuill WalpurgisQuill wrote:

Dude.... you're a fag.
 
I only date women. Smile
My name is Donathan, pronounced the same way you pronounce Jonathan, except with a D.😀 Hitting on a Lesbian who speaks to you and about you like trash means you're REALLY desperate! 😀




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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote WalpurgisQuill Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10 May 2012 at 4:49pm
Originally posted by Donathan Donathan wrote:

Originally posted by WalpurgisQuill WalpurgisQuill wrote:

Dude.... you're a fag.
 
I only date women. Smile


Dating women =/= straight.
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Donathan Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10 May 2012 at 4:50pm
Yeah, I know.  I on;y date women, so I am straight. Smile
My name is Donathan, pronounced the same way you pronounce Jonathan, except with a D.😀 Hitting on a Lesbian who speaks to you and about you like trash means you're REALLY desperate! 😀




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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote WalpurgisQuill Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10 May 2012 at 4:54pm
No, retard. Obviously you don't recognize algebraic signs. Which, to me, says that you rode the short bus in school.
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Donathan Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10 May 2012 at 5:04pm
Look, why are you picking on me?  I'm a nice guy.Unhappy
My name is Donathan, pronounced the same way you pronounce Jonathan, except with a D.😀 Hitting on a Lesbian who speaks to you and about you like trash means you're REALLY desperate! 😀




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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote WalpurgisQuill Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10 May 2012 at 5:17pm
What does that have to do with me?
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Donathan Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10 May 2012 at 5:21pm
Because you called me a retard for no good reason. 
My name is Donathan, pronounced the same way you pronounce Jonathan, except with a D.😀 Hitting on a Lesbian who speaks to you and about you like trash means you're REALLY desperate! 😀




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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote WalpurgisQuill Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10 May 2012 at 5:27pm
I called you a retard because

1. Your writing blows

2. You don't understand algebraic signs.

3. Nobody likes you.

Simple as that.
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Donathan Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10 May 2012 at 5:35pm

Please stop harassing me.  i'm asking you politely.

My name is Donathan, pronounced the same way you pronounce Jonathan, except with a D.😀 Hitting on a Lesbian who speaks to you and about you like trash means you're REALLY desperate! 😀




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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote WalpurgisQuill Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10 May 2012 at 5:49pm
Who's harassing you? You could stop talking to me right now.
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Donathan Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10 May 2012 at 5:51pm
Hey, let's just agree to be civil to each other.  I don't want an all out flame war on what is supposed to be a fun thread. Smile
My name is Donathan, pronounced the same way you pronounce Jonathan, except with a D.😀 Hitting on a Lesbian who speaks to you and about you like trash means you're REALLY desperate! 😀




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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Tiz Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 10 May 2012 at 10:54pm
Originally posted by Donathan Donathan wrote:

Please stop harassing me.  i'm asking you politely.


You posted this crap in Off Topic when it belongs in Creative. Open season....
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Part 12
 
“Dave, remember if you stay friends with this Nig, you won’t get into the “Club” and we will tell everyone about your little “Trip”. Remember the heavy sweats, the shaking, and the fixes?” Sneery Right asked. Sneery Left nodded his head, giving Dave an evil smile. “I remember clearly. And I don’t mind telling Dave’s family what happened.”

“Leave me alone,” Dave said again. “And leave Darryl alone.”

“Darryl? This little Nig’s name is Darryl?” Sneery Left replied. “I thought his name was Kunta Kinte.” He laughed nastily.

I tried to leave again, but Sneery Right grabbed my arm. Hard. His fingers dug into my skin. “You don’t belong here. Go back to the projects. Go back to your welfare ghetto. You’re just a little Nig. Your parents must have begged the government to get you here. This institution takes pity on you little Nigs, he said softly, but menancingly.

“Please,” I begged softly. Why wasn’t anyone helping Dave and I? I looked around, and some students looked reluctant to help Dave and me. Other students just plain ignored us. They must have not wanted any trouble. The Sneerys obviously were a threat not to be reckoned with.

“I don’t want any trouble, “I told Sneery right.

“If you didn’t want any trouble, you would have left when we told you too. Now that you’re here, you’re gonna get what you asked for,” Sneery right told me ominously.

“Please,” I said again. Tears began to run down my face. I cried because I was scared. What would they do to me? To Dave?

Dave said, “Darryl’s not asking for trouble. He just wants his education. Just let him be.” Dave looked at the Sneerys pleadingly.

The Sneerys laughed cruelly. “His welfare school wasn’t giving him an “education”? Sneery Right asked/said, mockingly.

North Miami was the “projects/” NMSH was a “welfare” school? North Miami was one of the most blessed areas in all of Miami, with a low crime rate. NMSH was the envy of a lot of school is Miami.

Sneery Left said, “Johnson is for us Rich, White, Boys. And this Nig is only one of the three. He was smiling evilly.

Sneery Right still had his hand on me. Sneery Left had been holding Dave’s arm. The Sneerys both looked at us very intimidatingly, as if they wanted to beat us up. Sneery Right spit in my face. “That’s a moisturizer for your ashy face,” he told me, cruelly. Then Sneery Left said, “You missed a spot”, let go of Dave, and spit in my face too. “That’s extra moisturizer for you,” he said, evilly too. Then, Sneery Left pushed Dave backwards so hard that he fell backwards on his back. Sneery left walked over to Dave menancingly, and I could see the fear in Dave’s eyes.

“Please. We’ve never harmed you,” Dave said, shaking. “We’ve done nothing to hurt you,” he continued, begging. Sneery Left kicked him in the side. “That’s for hanging out with a Nig. If you dumped him, you wouldn’t be going through this now.” He roughly picked up Dave and gave him a closed first punch in the jaw. Dave yelped in pain.

On the other hand, Sneery Right let go of my arm and beat my head with powerful blows. Then he kicked me in my stomach, and as I bowled over from the pain, Sneery Right kicked me in my leg, and I fell. I was getting the shi beat out of me. As I lay down on the floor, Sneery Right kicked me again in my other leg.

“Please stop,” I begged him. “I already told you, I don’t want any trouble.”

Sneery Right laughed evilly, then picked me up, and pushed me roughly into Dave.

“Sorry to interrupt your “fun” with Dave,” Sneery Right apologized to Sneery left.

“No problem,” Sneery left answered. He dragged Dave away from me and continued his pummeling on Dave.

“Please,” Dave begged again. He sounded weak and frail.

“I’ll stop beating you up when you stop being his friend,” Sneery Left said. He punched Dave in the jaw again.

“Please,” Dave begged again, shaking. “Please.”

“Oh you don’t want to stop being his friend,” Sneery Left said, and punched Dave in the gut.

“Just stop. Please,” Dave begged again, shakily.

“Call him a Nig and then you can go. I’ll stop beating you up,” Sneery Left negotiated.

Dave looked at me. I could see tortured pain in his eyes. He really didn’t want to be beat anymore, but he promised his mom and me that he would never call me or any other Black person that word.

“Say it!” Sneery Left said. He whacked Dave upside his head.

“Ni….Ni….” Dave said, shaking. I knew he was really tortured.

“The whole word!” Sneery Left barked. He punched Dave in the gut again.

“Ni…….” Dave said weakly.

“The word is Nig-Ger!”” with each syllable, Sneery Left roughly punched Dave in the face.

“I don’t want to call him that,” Dave said, shakily. He didn’t look to strong.

“Then you WANT to be beat up like a rag doll,” Sneery left said. He picked up an empty chair and cracked it over Dave’s head. Then he slammed Dave’s head into a table.

“Noooooooo!” I screamed, watching Dave suffer.

“Shut up!” Sneery Right yelled at me and roughly put his arm around me neck and began to strangle me.

“You shouldn’t have come here, Nig,” he told me raspily. I began to make gagging noises. Sneery Right removed his arm and did DDT on me. (That’s a wrestling move). He picked me up into the air. “Please no,” I begged, knowing what he had in mind. He was going to drop me onto the floor. “Please don’t do it,” I begged.

He put me above his head and dropped me onto the floor. The floor rose to meet me and I blacked out after the searing pain. When I came to, I was still lying on the floor. I got up and looked for Dave. Dave was on the floor, next to me. Dave’s laboring was heavy and his eyes were closed. I hoped he was okay.
 
My name is Donathan, pronounced the same way you pronounce Jonathan, except with a D.😀 Hitting on a Lesbian who speaks to you and about you like trash means you're REALLY desperate! 😀




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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Tiz Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 11 May 2012 at 10:57pm
Originally posted by Donathan Donathan wrote:

I don't want an all out flame war on what is supposed to be a fun thread. Smile

What's "fun" about Nigs and the Projects?
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Donathan Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 12 May 2012 at 2:30am
It's a al light-hearted stoty for the most part. Smile
My name is Donathan, pronounced the same way you pronounce Jonathan, except with a D.😀 Hitting on a Lesbian who speaks to you and about you like trash means you're REALLY desperate! 😀




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