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KRANWEST -> The Little Memories that Stick. (2/25/2008 4:50:00 PM)
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I've been Lawrence's friend and confidante for roughly three years.....ever since I started fucking his sister's gal-pal - a bumbleheaded, Ivy League Jewess, slumming it with the New London bar trash during summer vacation. A real status-quo queen like that can't bring herself to screw around with the black boys or Puerto-Ricans, so she settled for the "safe" medium: semi-polished proletariat.........white enough to maintain respectability, but low-down enough to give her the thrill of fucking below her rung on the socio-economic ladder. For somebody like that, it's the closest thing to jumping the race fence.
Her friends -snobby elitist cunts from Cornell, Yale, Harvard....they all claimed R..... was stuck on me pretty damn good. Hell, I think it was cute: R..... knew she'd be back in upstate New York, sipping gourmet "free-trade" coffees and spewing her pre-rehearsed, pseudo-liberal verbiage at other affluent whitebreads within the confines of some cozy "local" cafe (the kind where the barista's like to express their subversive, non-comformist opinions on gaudy tee-shirt pins. You've got plenty of assholes like that in New London: they'll talk your fucking ear off about "Third-World Peruvian Swineherds with Advanced Leprosy, but they sure are scared to death of real ghetto negroes.)
Lawrence tells me that R...... is dating a new boy now............that things are getting serious. This one might be "marriage" material - this nice, yuppified political science major.
"Why the fuck would a girl like that fuck around with me?", I ask Lawrence. The question is purely rhetorical, of course. I've shed my chrysalis ten times over; I know about the world's abrasive qualities..........the qualities that seethe, burn, and sink their teeth in real well. Poor guys are playthings.........the Great Unwashed boy-toys for leisurely rich cunts to devour - plastic and disposable.
The little memories have a way of sticking.
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