The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

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BulletPark
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The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by BulletPark » Fri Feb 09, 2018 5:38 am

Argo’ s mother clapped her hands in glee as her darling boy, his long golden ringlets bouncing in the sun, skipped about in his velvet Buster Brown suit. She could not but laugh until the tears ran down her face, partially in the sheer delight of her darling boy’s capers and partly because, well, Jesus, the kid looked like a fag.
They were very happy, both of them, living in whitest Africa with Argo’s father, Potato Fuck, and 1 million blicks, whom Potato Fuck was currently whipping in the fields, where the family grew caracoles, breadfruit, lint traps and snuff.
“Oh, when I am of age, won’t I whip the blicks, Muh-mah!” trilled little Argo in a high piping voice that stunned every carrion vulture for a three mile radius. “Won’t I make them leap and squeal!”
“You shall, you shall, my darling boy!!” Argo’s mother said joyfully, but in truth her heart misgave her.
He shall forget me, she thought. He shall grow older and in doing so shall coarsen. His head will turn into a potato, like that of his father, and he will eschew belts and butter knives and lifting the lid to pee.
Here she shook herself of her troubling thoughts, for Potato Fuck had returned from the fields, reeking of coleslaw, worn out with his labors.
“Arrghbargle arggh oog boogle yarrgh,” he said, punching his wife affectionately in the teeth. He then shat into his own hands and pelted a random blick with it, the signal that the evening meal was to be served.
Once they were done consuming the white rhino* Potato Fuck asked that his son be brought before him to recite his lessons**. In keeping with White African tradition, every time the child made a mistake his father stove in his face with a leaden cudgel. How the golden curls bounced!

TO BE CONTINUED...

*In order to preserve their blinding whiteness, White Africans eat only white things and subsist largely on a diet of white rhinos, mayonnaise sandwiches and wedding cake. They have also been known to eat snowmen, cocaine, standard letter-size office paper and other White Africans.

** "Now Argo, don’t eat the broken glass…no, darling, broken glass is unsafe to eat. Argo, don’t – you know what? Fuck it. Here’s the recycling bin, fag, knock yourself out.”

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Argonheart_Po » Fri Feb 09, 2018 6:00 am

Thank you.

We did have a House Boy called William. He used to steal the coffee, sugar and rice, but he was also a very nice chap.

Dad used to bail him out and pay his fines when he got drunk and punchy. William used to take me to his drinking clubs to play darts, under the strict condition that he only had a couple of beers.
“We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.” —C.S. Lewis

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by BulletPark » Fri Feb 09, 2018 6:06 am

What an enchanting story! Did William bail your father out when he got drunk and punchy or did your mother let him cool his heels in jail for the full three days?

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Unwashed_Pom » Fri Feb 09, 2018 6:15 am

I feel ever so guilty laughing about peoples shortcomings but fuck I larfed.

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Argonheart_Po » Fri Feb 09, 2018 6:43 am

BulletPark wrote:
Fri Feb 09, 2018 6:06 am
What an enchanting story! Did William bail your father out when he got drunk and punchy or did your mother let him cool his heels in jail for the full three days?
He never did.

We used to part own a resort (such as it was back then - bunch of cottages, small shop and a pool) called Capricho near Mobassa. You can still go there.

I used to go out spear fishing - proper spears - with the locals. Once when I was about 11 I caught an octopus.
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“We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.” —C.S. Lewis

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by BulletPark » Fri Feb 09, 2018 6:44 am

Was it weird capturing something so much smarter than you? Did you release it or date for a while until it broke things off?

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Argonheart_Po » Fri Feb 09, 2018 6:58 am

It wasn’t captured. It was killed by the spear and eaten.

We’d go on safari a lot. Land Rover. Seeing lions make a kill. A cheetah once.

This was after Hong Kong of course.

Cousin still has a farm in Tanzan. There’s a family property on Gozo too.
“We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.” —C.S. Lewis

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Logg » Fri Feb 09, 2018 7:03 am

Argonheart_Po wrote:
Fri Feb 09, 2018 6:43 am
We used to part own a resort (such as it was back then - bunch of cottages, small shop and a pool) called Capricho near Mobassa. You can still go there.

I used to go out spear fishing - proper spears - with the locals. Once when I was about 11 I caught an octopus.
Golly, an octopus?

Geez Little Lord Fauntleroy, your yeoman cred just dried up quick.

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Unwashed_Pom » Fri Feb 09, 2018 7:04 am

How terribly pedestrian. Pass the fairy bread.

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by BulletPark » Fri Feb 09, 2018 7:05 am

So after you ate it, you dated it! Explains why everyone referred to your grade school squeeze as "that piece of shit."

A farm on Tarzan and property on Gonzo! Any equity on any other Saturday morning cartoon characters?

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Argonheart_Po » Fri Feb 09, 2018 9:08 am

When I was in my twenties I dated the niece and then the daughter of one of the Rolling Stones for some time, many years actually. It enabled me to get a job on the Stones tours and other ones too. That was interesting and exciting. For a while.
“We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.” —C.S. Lewis

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Argonheart_Po » Fri Feb 09, 2018 9:09 am

Logg wrote:
Fri Feb 09, 2018 7:03 am
Argonheart_Po wrote:
Fri Feb 09, 2018 6:43 am
We used to part own a resort (such as it was back then - bunch of cottages, small shop and a pool) called Capricho near Mobassa. You can still go there.

I used to go out spear fishing - proper spears - with the locals. Once when I was about 11 I caught an octopus.
Golly, an octopus?

Geez Little Lord Fauntleroy, your yeoman cred just dried up quick.
I was ten or eleven. I was impressed with myself. I still am.
“We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.” —C.S. Lewis

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Unwashed_Pom » Fri Feb 09, 2018 9:27 am

When did you toss the cashmere y-fronts and truffle toffee apples and embrace all things working class?

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Argonheart_Po » Fri Feb 09, 2018 9:37 am

See the thing is I just liked the idea of helping a brother up and judging a person by the content of their character. I still do.

But you effete, affected poseurs are nothing like the left wing people of my youth. Somehow you’ve taken on the worst traits - intolerance, snobbery, virtue-signaling, group-think - of your old culture war enemies, the right wing Christians.
“We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.” —C.S. Lewis

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Unwashed_Pom » Fri Feb 09, 2018 10:05 am

See the thing is I just liked the idea of helping a brother up and judging a person by the content of their character. I still do.
Astonishing. Where do you suppose you fucked up then? Prep School?

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Argonheart_Po » Fri Feb 09, 2018 10:11 am

It wasn’t me who changed.

It was you snobs.
“We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.” —C.S. Lewis

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by DCComic » Fri Feb 09, 2018 10:37 am

the niece and then the daughter
The niece became the daughter or you ditched the niece and climbed the ladder to the daughter?
פולאר הוא שקרן - I want my fucking money back - The only reason you continue to participate is because you hate me personally.

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Argonheart_Po » Fri Feb 09, 2018 10:38 am

When’s act two?

Will I be on tour in Paris or Manchester? Or East Troy, Wisconsin?

I like fan fiction.
“We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.” —C.S. Lewis

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by strife » Fri Feb 09, 2018 1:57 pm

Are you no longer PaF, Lance?
I am Stalking you.

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Lost Soul » Fri Feb 09, 2018 3:43 pm

Argonheart_Po wrote:
Fri Feb 09, 2018 9:37 am
See the thing is I just liked the idea of helping a brother up and judging a person by the content of their character. I still do.

But you effete, affected poseurs are nothing like the left wing people of my youth. Somehow you’ve taken on the worst traits - intolerance, snobbery, virtue-signaling, group-think - of your old culture war enemies, the right wing Christians.
Pwned.

It sounds like a nice childhood, Po. Too bad the corrupt socialists (redundant) fucked up another continent, and in only a decade or two.
IMPRISON BUSH!

INDICT HILLARY!

"Lost Soul is largely correct"- VinnyD

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Argonheart_Po » Sat Feb 10, 2018 12:37 am

Lost Soul wrote:
Fri Feb 09, 2018 3:43 pm
Argonheart_Po wrote:
Fri Feb 09, 2018 9:37 am
See the thing is I just liked the idea of helping a brother up and judging a person by the content of their character. I still do.

But you effete, affected poseurs are nothing like the left wing people of my youth. Somehow you’ve taken on the worst traits - intolerance, snobbery, virtue-signaling, group-think - of your old culture war enemies, the right wing Christians.
Pwned.

It sounds like a nice childhood, Po. Too bad the corrupt socialists (redundant) fucked up another continent, and in only a decade or two.
Thanks. It was pretty good, but I didn’t know it then.

Reversing down a wadi with my uncle standing in the sunroof photographing an elephant charging at us. My brother being jumped - really - by a leopard that escaped its handler at the Animal Orphanage. I thought it was hilarious. Camping and waking up at dawn to find a hyena had folded the frying pan in two with its jaws.

We had a gardener. A Maasai woman. She wouldn’t come in the house. I remember her killing a snake by whipping it’s head off. She had seven sons. All of them became doctors. Dad and the neighbour, a wildlife filmmaker helped with the tuition fees. A couple came to stay with us in the UK.
“We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.” —C.S. Lewis

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by BulletPark » Sat Feb 10, 2018 1:41 am

Argo woke, bleary-eyed, under the piano. Touring with the Rolling Stones wasn’t what it was cracked up to be, especially when your job was “piano leg”. He sighed and wondered where all the good times had gone. It had been years since Hong Kong, and even that had been something of a pinch – the complete lack of both blicks and white food had weighed heavily upon his family and they had been reduced for a while to eating tablecloths filched from 2-star dim sums and the odd junk sail. Potato Fuck had never completely recovered and even now was drooling away in an old folks home for the FILTH.
Now, in Detroit, Michigan, where the blicks were curiously unresponsive to the whistled call of “boy!” and whipping them just made them take the whip away and put it surprisingly far up into your colon, there seemed little to look forward to.
Sure, he was dating the niece of a band member…and then the daughter…and then the niece and the daughter…damn you, Roman Polanski…it was that kind of family…but even her slobbering grunts and dexterity with all 22 toes could not rid Argo of the painful memories of his octopodan liaison all those years ago. Her delicate, erotically curling body, his swift jabs with the spear, her inky, velvety, mysterious uncoiling…
Argo groaned, aware that a wet patch was spreading once again across the crotch of his tattered velvet britches.
“My darling boy…” his lovely mother had whispered on her deathbed. “This Buster Brown suit…it marks you as superior to everyone not wearing a Buster Brown suit. Promise me one thing, my angel. Never, never take it off.”
And he had not. At this point, he was no longer sure it was possible.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by Argonheart_Po » Sat Feb 10, 2018 1:45 am

Haha

Very good.
“We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.” —C.S. Lewis

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by BulletPark » Sat Feb 10, 2018 4:55 am

Yes..it is, isn't it?

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Re: The Whitest African: A Tragedy in Three Acts

Post by BulletPark » Sun Feb 11, 2018 12:11 am

Argo stumped up to the door of his bungalow in Huntsman Acres, Australia, wheezing as he fiddled with the keys, his weekly purchase of bog roll and chicken fat heaped in his fleshy arms.
It was true, what the nice lady at the social services department had said - leaving a trail of breadcrumbs really did help one remember where one lived when things like street numbers refused to stick in the mind. He wondered if she would be less pleased with his success if she knew that he had run out of breadcrumbs and had settled, the last 80 yards or so, for shaking small turds down his pant leg, but the end result was the same: Argo was home.
Flicking on the light, he took in the feature wall, the brick veneer, the lovely triple cream waterfall front, the Hills Hoist in the backyard and once again considered putting a note on the table and his head in the oven.
But no - there might be something he could post to Political Stew.
After preparing a simple casserole of the aforementioned chicken fat and bog roll, Anno trundled over to his office chair, applied a thin coating of fresh Vaseline, and sat down in it, once again ignoring the sound of tearing upholstery. Opening his laptop, his dainty little trotters fairly flew over a hundred carefully bookmarked websites, all with names like WAT THE (SAD!!!) FALING NEW OR KTIMES DUSNT WANT U 2 NO and HILLARY IS RIGHT BEHIND YOU. Selecting a likely looking tale about how bubble gum machines were being outlawed by the blicks (such a different world it was, he mused) because Stalin, he C&P'd it into Political Stew. Then he did the same thing 30 times with equally absurd and one-sided rubbish.
Sitting back in his chair, which let out an audible crack, he began to wait for his fan club - for that was how he thought of them - to respond. They always did. Dear Eric. Dear Lost Soul. Dear Northern Goddess. Generally with sneering contempt, but he could sense the camaraderie and affection underneath. The rather piquant homosexual flirtation too, if Annotated was anything to go by.
For a moment his own reflection was visible in the laptop screen, and, gazing into the sludgy complexion and pudgy cheeks of the balding frump that was now his countenance, he thought a while of how it had all fled, all of it, the Rolling Stones and the blicks and Potato Fuck's leaden cudgel and her with the eight arms and ink sac and all. Even the Buster Brown suit was just a body-wide birthmark at this point.
He began to scream then and tear helplessly at his own face with his tiny little over-manicured and girlishly soft hands.
After an hour or so he calmed himself.
Breathing in wet slobbering gasps, he reached into a desk drawer, took out a Goldilocks wig and plopped it on his pate.
Mother, he thought, Mother, for you.
And smiled.

THE END

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