Negrodamus bought me lunch yesterday—a steak lunch. First we stood in line at the CVS next to Joey and his skank mother, who had just broken him out of a hospital without paying their bill the morning after he was shot in the neck. As we walked away Negrodamus said, "Now those are niցցers. I don't care if they are white, a niցցer is a niցցer. I suppose the Chinese have their own niցցers hidden somewhere where we can't see them."
"So," I inquired, "you would not reproduce with Joey's mom?"
"Shoot, Mister LaFond, after the way my wife done me, I'd certainly like to get with a white woman. But I'm talking about a real white woman, who acts like a white person, does not do stupid shit, does not raise her children to get all caught up in the niggadom that's running rampant ought there. I spent part of my younger days caught up in the niggadom, but no longer. Why do you think I'm eating steak with you instead of waiting to get shot on the corner. You know, I just moved back in with my mother and grandmother to save money for a house while this divorce blows over. I see some of the same knuckleheads slinging dope on the street that were doing it ten years ago when I moved out!
"Stupid shit runs rampant in the black community. These fools actually think all of that looting—burning out black families and destroying businesses in their own neighborhood—was a good thing and can't wait to do it again. Seriously nigga? That's all the more sense you have, to be proud of stealing toilet paper and hoping for the next chance to attack your own people again? On top of that these militant blacks who want to get those they claim keep them down, never go after those rich white folks. You didn't see any fires out in Hunt Valley, did you? That would be wrong, but at least make sense."
Later on, as we drove back to my place in the city, he was asking my advice on combating home invasions and defending himself from his car.
"Anywhere where you have grown black men on cell phones peddling round on children's bikes, you got some criminal enterprise. Look at this niցցer here. That's what I'm talking about. I will not buy a house anywhere where I see his black ass loitering around, nowhere on a bus line. Oh, hell no—look at this fool with is pants falling down in the middle of the road and he'll sue me for a million dollars if I knock his jay-walking ass into next week."
We pulled up outside of my house as Ramona, the athletic Serena Williams looking redbone chick, was yelling at Binky the Crack Dealer, who was packed and walking away from their rental.
"Look at this bitch, Mister LaFond. That's why I need me a white woman. When I get on e-harmony after this divorce is final, I will put a sister filter on that thing—no black bitches need apply. Are you sure she's a woman—I see some breast, but those arms are scaring me with the muscles rippling!"
For the next ten minutes we continued our conversation as Binky broke away from his ass-chewing in stages, his bag over his shoulder, as she chewed him out, followed him as she ran her mouth, and then cut in front of him and started screaming. This cycle repeated itself for 7 houses. Negrodamus then took out his smart phone and started recording the one-sided drama on video.
"Oh, you see how off the hook this bitch is and he still not cracking her? He's not running his mouth either. He's not your run of the mill nigga. This shit is too much. She must have some good pussy for him to be listening to this. The problem is with half the dudes I grew up with over in Park Heights, is that they would have already smacked her ass and be getting whooped by the popo already. You got a nigga for a neighbor who has some stakes and some brains. Like, I know ten dudes, who if my wife would have done them like she done me, would already be in jail or dead, or wanted for having lit up some place with a gun. Not me. I even kept this evil bitch on my insurance to facilitate a resolution and get me out of that ugliness."
Negrodamus then let me out so that he could slowly drive and film the action at the same time.
