I went out for my afternoon walk to the market a couple of hours ago just as the oppressed were rolling out of bed at noon-tide and shuffling off to Mister Mike’s grocery store. Corn tortillas were two pounds per dollar…

As I waited in line there was a ruckus a few lanes over. Mamma Mudhshark was there, and she is always good for some slumming fun.

Mamma Mudshark is a five foot tall, imbiber of ebonic manhood who is overweight, never wears a bra, dresses in worn out sweats and flip flops, does not wash her black hair which lays pasted to her greasy head and has a weather-beaten complexion. She walks Harford Road for miles with a constant scowl, angry, I suppose at the three different black men who have impregnated her and have disappeared never to be seen again.

She has three mixed-race boys, the two oldest of which follow her like ducks in a row as she tramps the sidewalks up and down Harford Road, pushing the youngest mudpup in its carriage. Today she was in the store spending her welfare at the cash register when the oldest boy, perhaps eight, asked for a bag of potato chips. She squared up to him and growled, “I said no, motherfucker,” and punched the boy square in the chest with loud thud that knocked him back against the register cabinet.

He dropped the bag of chips, straightened up and stifled a sniffle as she clenched her fists daring him to cry. As this was going on, one of the female cashiers was balling up her fists and heading for Mamma Mudshark, when another female cashier grabbed her and walked her away, coaching her on not letting her feelings for children get in the way of keeping her job.

In Mamma Mudshark’s small, pig eyes was a blind, unreasoning anger for her son.

In the eyes of the white cashier, who had impulsively tried to intercede on the boy’s behalf, I saw indignant rage.

In the boy’s eyes I saw a distant, bitter pain, sinking into his soul like acid.

If society at large is unlucky enough to witness his coming of age, this boy will carry that fatherless taint into adulthood, courtesy of whatever cabal of government agencies combine their efforts to reward his disgusting mother for his torment and neglect. With any luck he will prey upon social workers and other liberals, rather than those of us who have done him no harm.