Today I went to visit Dr. Philistine at his body garage along with the young lady who has harangued me to give the good doctor a visit for these past months. After the visit was over, well understanding that my motivation sat impatiently out in the lobby, Dr. Philistine preceded me and said in his most conciliatory tone, “He’s going to die.” He then briefed the lady and told her that I would be making a follow-up appointment to which she rose, shook his hand, and then as he used his hand to shield his eyes and pretended not to notice that the hourglass was overflowing, my hitherto obedient slave girl now demonstrated her insolent side and said, “So you haven’t caused him any pain?”

He answered in the negative, and she declared that it was a shame, alluding to the fact that she might be dishing pain out soon enough, or at least this is how the top of the line Lexus model of the BT-1000 who was working behind the counter took my insolent slave girl’s innuendo.

Miss ReayQueen could be a villainess in a Robert E. Howard story figure of the female with ebony skin and the long blond hair. She had shoulders like Tommy Hearns and a grin like Mohammed Ali, as she rose and exhorted my insolent slave girl to rise up and strike down her master, for this was the way of things, the way you handled your mens, “Unless of course you are his care giver,” she said, with a smile to her and a meaningful shift in her eyes, to the two brothers sitting across from her in the corner in ever more cringing postures, “But if he’s yours, you got to keep him in line, Sister.”

Then, turning to me, she asked, “Do you want me to call you every 3-4 hours to see if you’re still alive?” to which I took out my sunglasses and told her that I was already prepared for the abuse. At this point, I was just egging the lady on to the horror of the brothers and her white co-worker, and then, when we got outside, once again, comfortable in her subservient role, my slave girl said, “I think I got to meet a real BT-1000 who thought I was one of them too.”

Let you this be a lesson to you bitches who aspire to be the slave girl of a true barbarian, that being on the arm of the non-conformed could bring you, too, the adoration and inclusion enjoyed by a true ebony queen.