My friend is a white supremacist who wants to shoot up a school full of black kids. He only likes me because he thinks Dominicans are "honorary whites," in the same way that Japanese citizens were considered "honorary Aryans" by the Nazis. I guess our mistreatment of Haitians puts us on the same pedestal as the other "superior," genocidal-Eurasian peoples, but I digress.
So, my friend told me he was itching to go on a shooting spree, but, sadly, he had no gun. I said: "How about we head on over to a Walgreens Guns & Ammo Depot?"
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| Doesn't need ID... because White |
He was delighted because he knew he could choose between: the "assault rifle" used to shoot up Sandy Hook, or the 9mm used to take down Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords. I suggested the 9mm because it's much easier to conceal and also because Glock 19 9mm shells are harder to link to the gun, making it harder for the prosecution to prove a case should he be allowed to live by the police like the typical non-black man with a lethal weapon in his hands.
So, we walk into the Walgreens in Washington -- a state so enamored with freedom that it is named after freedom -- and immediately head to the Glock section. My friend, let's call him "Chad Burbian," examines the Glock and says, "wow, this is the one, this is what you have to get me!" Right then and there he hands me 500 bucks and we head to the counter.
The cashier, an overpaid career-employee who takes the extensive training she has received far too seriously, becomes suspicious. She thinks: "By Jesus! I have a feeling that this person with Mr. Abreu may be underage. I just have this feeling that this brown guy is gonna give him the gun once I sell it to him. After all, behind every mass shooting by a young, white male, there's a brown guy who was in some way an accessory."
The cashier asked Chad if he had ID, but Chad simply said: "I'm not the one making the purchase. In fact, I'm leaving the premises at this point." Nonetheless, the cashier refused to sell me the gun despite the fact that Chad had exited the premises. At that point, she squeezed the gun on her holster tight. I
became furious: "How dare you! This is discrimination against young,
white males," I shouted.
The gun shop owner then intervened, and said: "Well, your friend either comes back in here and shows his ID or you're not getting this gun, Mr. Abreu!"
The situation was becoming more tense with each passing second, but eventually Chad came in and established that he was just over the age of adulthood, and I was able to acquire the gun on his discreet behalf.
Chad was like, "dude, let's just go to another gun shop and get what we want, I'll hang out outside. After all, we already know what gun your black, accessory-ass is gonna get for me!"
However, I said: "No, we're gonna get it here because this place is special."
