Where does your father do his barnacles? Part 14

Where does your father do his barnacles? Part 14 | Ecency

Soroush saluted. “You towering Aryan knight! One day, by their own will, my people will bleed themselves into the Rhine for you as you usher in the new future.”

“Fuck’s sake, Soroush. Not here, not now. This is Abbie, Amber and Emily.”

“I’m Soroush and this is my boyish white-concubine, Frank. I won him playing cards in a warlord’s trophy room. He was one of the trophies.”

“Roosh-Fuck!” Steve always stressed around girls.

“He’s drunk and obviously mistaken. I wasn’t the trophy. My sweet, pink little asshole, that was the trophy.”

“Alright guys, we’re going to sit over there.” Steve tried to corral the women towards a table Burger was clearing. “Hey fuck that Steve, I’m pushing this one over.”

“Don’t-“ Steve stopped corralling the girls as Amber helped Burger move the table.

“So you girls Australian?”

“Yeh, thahs royt!”

“Oh’ll Buhrguh bloke hayr cahwds us Auzzie-babes!” Abbie, the most petite of the trio wrapped her arms around one of his. He blushed as she pressed her face to his shoulder. “Accurate as always.” Steve threw his eyes at Emily with the comment, but she could barely sit without rocking. Her eyes were too far gone to expect any sort of reponse, but something was bubbling to her surface as she looked up at the new circle of people that surrounded her. “Layts ‘er an impraysion!” She let out.

“’Straylia!” Steve proudly belted out.

“Naht you!” She shit all over his confidence.

“Yeh, weh hayrd you ahretty!” Emily scowled into her drink.

“Roosh, over here’s an aboriginal. He can probably give you what you want.” Roosh looked up from his phone confused. Then Emily mumbled through something that sounded like “Ah yeh? es he ‘av one aff those beg, bloody wangers that I cahn fehll pokin’ out me throat awl the noyt and aykin’ in me wahlk theh ole’ next day?” Her friends laughed prompting the rest of us to smile and drink.

Soroush nodded across the table to me “The fuck did she just say?”

“I think it had something to do with your grade-A nigger-dick.”

“Ay!” Amber roared at me. “You cunt jus’ say ‘at you raciss’ fuck!”

“Say what?”

“The n-word, dipshit!” Steve rolled his eyes hoping to catch Emeily’s again.

“Steven, it’s pronounced nigger.” Soroush calmly interjected. “And it’s fine.”

“It’s fine maybe for you to say, nah him.”

“Why cause I’m a nigger?”

“Guys!?” Steve panicked.

“Nah, that’s nah’ whah’ I mean. Es because es a racial term. So es not royt to jus’ say. ‘Ere’s a ‘ol bloody ‘estory to et.” She looked to Abbie who stared down at her drink with her head still resting on Burger. They both looked to be eyeing the door. Emily nodded in approval, but with her eyes closed and her head in her hands, her elbows on the table.

Soroush locked eyes with Amber. “That’s nice and all, but you heard what he said it was just a joke. I think if you use any terms like that in jest and irony to find a way despite their history to make them sayable then you rob them of the power it gives shitty people to say the unsayable to push their shitty, debunked ideas.”

“Let’s just drop it.” Steve held his hand out over the table as if he was putting a lid over something. Just then Emily’s chin hit the table her head swinging to the left knocking over her full beer and cutting up the air of the bar with the loud percussive topple of glass hitting wood, reminding everyone in the crowd that people fuck up all the time.

“Oh Burgah, would you old ‘er up?”

“Of course.” Burger put one arm around her and had her pretty much lifted. Abbie lightly smacked her cheek and held her face in her hands. She shouted, “Ware wockin’ now Emmy! Les’ move you legs!”