RETURN TO ROBOHOOD

#1

Rent free with three squares Obama Washington lll had it good, upstate on his third
felony conviction, doing three life sentences for triple murder. A man of stature
satisfied with his life.
Obama III was happy until the prison went private sector/prison for profit and his
perks started to disappear; the food started to taste like shit (and smaller portions),
no more customer service, the guards stopped coming inside, and eventually all the
doors except the front gate were unlocked. The authorities threw ever smaller
quantities of chips, grape drank and toilet paper from the wall down into the yard,
they wouldn’t answer questions angrily shouted at them from the prisoners.
One day Obama was sleeping in his cell (a mans cell is his castle) when he was
awakened by sounds of guards moving through the cell block, making noise and
shouting abuse. The guards arrived at his cell “Obama get the fuck up!” they abused.
“Listen good; this prison is being turned into Chinese condos as of five O’clock
today”
“Where you transporting me?!? It better be to something better than this!” Obama
III cried incredulously.
“We ain’t takin’ yous no where’s!” menaced one of the guards.
The guard captain said “Five O’clock you gotta be outa here!”
“Out of here where!?! What you mean bro?” Obamas eyes were big as saucers.
The guard captain said “I’m gonna say this once more; Five O’clock you gotta be outa
here, were not moving you anywhere. You are no longer our responsibility.”
“But I’m a three time felon doin’ three life sentence for triple murder!” pleaded
Obama, visibly shaken. The guards laughed at him and moved on. Obama got out of
bed and stepped outside his cell and cursed after the guards “I ain’t moving
nowhere! I’m staying right here. A mans cell is his castle! Fuck the Chinese!”
Afterwards Obama brooded in his cell, there was a lot of activity and the prison
sounded like it was emptying out. That night the electricity shut off and the
following morning there was no water in his sink and his toilet tank didn’t refill.
Obama III was mad at the world when Chinese security guards showed up at his cell.
“Nigger man, you get out now!” they shouted.
“Where my ‘lectricy!?!, where my water!?!, where my egg and bacon!?! You chink
bastards!’
“Prison close nigger man, you go now!”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere! I gotta’ a right to stay here for life baby!”
With that the Chinese security guards pounced on Obama III and beat him with
bamboo rods. They broke his TV and his iPhone. Some of them held him down while
a couple of others packed a small bag for him with underwear and a toothbrush.
They then carried, pushed and prodded the screaming Obama III out of the prison
and on to a waiting bus.
The bus drove south all day through the scary countryside and scary forests and by
evening they had reached the city with its familiar garbage and graffiti, and soon
after the projects of his old neighborhood. Things looked the same except for the
barbed wire fences with armed guard towers that surrounded the neighborhood; it
was more than slums, it had a prison vibe.
The bus approached an automatic gate with armed project cops. The gate rolled up
and the bus drove in and pulled up to the curb. The driver got out of his seat and
faced the passengers “OK, everybody out”.
Obama III and the few other recent convicts moved forward. ‘Time for the ladies’ he
thought as he looked around his old stomping grounds and memories surged.
No sooner had Obama III gotten off the bus then he was up against a turn style at the
entrance to the projects. “Nigger you need a benefit card” said a fat black cop on a
broken chair”.
“Nigger, you know I ain’t got that shit” retorted Obama III.
“That’s right my nigger, you need to see the Jew at the pawn shop”. The fat smelly
guard pointed behind Obama III down the block to ‘Schlomos Government Pawn
and Robot Shop’.
Obama III shook his nappy head in genuine disgust and walked towards the beat up
3 story building. Smaller signs in the display window said ‘Get Your Benefits Card
Here’ & ‘We have AAA Robots’.
“Gibme my benefits nigger!” Obama III pounded the counter. Slowly Moshe
Silverstein turned around to face the group of black gentlemen fresh from prison. He
was dressed in a white shirt with ketchup stains, his dirty skull cap was off kilter
and pinned to greasy hair. Moshe was a pasty gray color with big droopy lips and a
giant hook nose. He was bent over from years of counting pennies. Moshe’s eyes
burned with greed, he looked over the motley negroes, then became obsequious.
“Hello boys, did you just graduate college? Hey hey he hee”
“Never mind that shit motherfucker… Give us our cards! … And what’s this shit
about robots!?!”
“I’ve got some forms for you boys to fill out, no ID needed boys, a simple iris scan
will insure true identity”
Moshe scanned the shifty blacks eyeballs to get their true identity, so as to not waste
time with hours of fake names. He gave them a pen and one by one they signed on
the line 10 times each, for 10 different forms. Moshe’s eye never left the pen, which
he retrieved with a claw like hand following the final signature. “Here are your
cards, and there is the door”.
The boys were all anxious to get back to their welfare project apartments. “You
know, I had me 3 life sentences, I never expected to see home again!” The boys
murmured in agreement, and the small group of dangerous black criminals
approached the gate, benefit ID cards in hand. Swish in the slot, beep beep, and they
pushed through the revolving gate back to the projects of their youth. Celebration
time was coming up!
Daiquan who was the youngest freed criminal said “I’m gonna look me up my baby
mama Sharkeisha. I was sentenced to 10 life terms for them murders I done; she
sure ass gonna be surprised to see me!” Obama III headed off towards building #3
where he had lived his whole life when not behind bars, where all his baby mamas
be.
“I’s gonna see my LeRonda, if she’s not around, I’ll check my ho LaQuandeesha be
available or that fat pig wife of mine Cunneleeza, she too ugly for no full time dude”.
Obama III surveyed the familiar dusty dirty projects; some of the trash piles had
been there his whole life, homies played basketball, but there were differences;
there were no little niggers and no baby carriages, then there were all these good
looking well dressed niggers following the women around.
Obama III studied the menu on the benefits vending machine by the courtyard of
building #3 where youths played basketball under the searchlights. He inserted his
card, selected the picture buttons for chips and malt liquor and out they dropped
into the receptacle.
Just then he looked and saw some of his old niggers crouched in the alley drinking
malt liquor, they looked mighty down. “What’s up my niggers?!”
“Yo Obama, you be out of dey joint”
“The Chinese kicked this nigger out! They be making condominiums and shit.”
Replied Obama III.
“Yah we know, I got kicked out of my own prison cell too, they building gook Disney,
now I back here”. complained one of the paroles named Latrine.
“Yo, where the bitches be?” inquired Obama III.
“You be finding out soon enough” was the ominous answer the huddling drinkers
gave.
Just then a small overweight female with a big hooker wig wearing skin tight ghetto
jeans appeared from building #3. Obama III thought he recognized her as LeRonda,
his old bitch from the 13 floor. But who was that just behind her, the handsome
strapping buck who fondled her ass with such un-African tenderness? He was very
handsome, and he looked like… the old president Obama WTF?!? only bigger with
muscles. He held the fucking door open for that bitch! Obama eye balled Obama.
“Much respect for my lady, I got some fried chicken coming your way.” Laughed the
handsome nigger in an Africanized monotone. Well, if Obama had a son.
Obama III was numb nutted and dumbstruck as a nigger can be. He was about to yell
at them when he saw another old flame approaching from the other side of building
#3, LaQuandeesha. She was dressed in a pig top and skin tight ghetto jeans. She was
followed by a tall handsome black man in expensive suburban mystic style clothes.
‘Something’s not right here’, thought Obama III. He took a long pull on his can of
malt liquor.
“Yo nigger! Whap up?!? LaQuandeesha, what you doin’ with this fine ass uptown
nigger? He too good for you baby!” quipped Obama III as he violently waved around
his chips and malt liquor.
“Obama baby when they let you out?”
“They didn’t let me out! The fucking Chinese kicked me out of my home, they sent
me here on the back of the bus. How’s about you and me getting back together? Get
rid of… That nigger he look famous like he… he look like black Jesus”.
“Much respect for my lady, I got some fried chicken coming your way.” Laughed the
black Jesus nigger in an Africanized monotone.
“That right motherfucker! Black Jesus and he’ll fuck you up. Out of my way Obama”
jabbered LaQuandeesha as she waddled past Obama III followed by her handsome
black man far too godly to be with someone like her in the projects.
Obama III was too shocked to move and just stood there as his smelly fat wife
Cunneleeza came out of the building, proceeded by odor, uglier than ever, followed
by a tall handsome muscular black man who strongly resembled Martin Luther King
Jr., he was saying some bedroom talk about fried chicken and she giggled.
HoNo! All 3 of his ex-bitches had good looking clean cut, clean living black men.
Much better than them Hos deserved.
They all ambled up to the benefits vending machine at the same time, the good
looking black men trailed back a couple of feet. LaQuandeesha got there first and
apparently got the last can of malt liquor. The yelling and shoving started, the good
looking boyfriends just stood by as the ladies battled, punching and kicking, yanking
out hair extensions and pulling off hooker wigs. “Gibme that fucking malt liquor
bitch! You know it’s mine!”
“Aaaaah!”
“No nigger No!”
They was dragging each other around by the head, swinging wildly when they
smashed into the Black Jesus boyfriend who flew through the air into the electrified
razor wire; crucified!
The electricity sizzled and popped and Black Jesus sparked and burned, but his
black flesh didn’t burn; for he had no flesh, he was pullies and wires, batteries and
transistors, gears with lube not blood, his big black head pealed open and had a
circuit board instead of a brain. Black Jesus was a robot!
The bitches stopped tussling and LeRonda spoke first “This shit is defective! They no
malt liquor and your nigger got burnt up.”
“Time to go to the government store and give that Jew a piece of mind!” snorted out
LaQuandeesha as she picked up a severed and smoking robot leg.
The ladies turned and marched out the gate, swiping their benefit ID cards to open
it. Beep beep, Beep beep, Beep beep. The 2 remaining good looking black boyfriends
didn’t move, they just froze in place.
’They must also be robots’ thought Obama III. He downed the rest of his malt liquor
and ate his remaining chips in one mouthful and keeping in the shadows, he
followed the bitches out of the projects.
Obama III using his burglar skills moved off to the side, where he could see without
being seen and observe without being observed. He watched the she boons out front
waving their arms, and through the side window he saw the bent over Jew bobbing
up and down over his bent bible THE PROTOCALS OF THE ELDERS OF ZION. Moshe
was praying to his god, his face screwed up with demonic pleasure.
When the bitches got close to the store they started yelling and shit “Moshe, you god
damn Jew, you giving us defective shit!” LaQuandeesha threw the severed leg of the
black Jesus robot through the display window. The glass shattered and the alarm
went off.
“We gonna holocaust your ass” added LaRonda.
Out rushed Moshe “ladies, ladies, no need to get feisty here, remember, the
government is here to help you”. He was making calming gestures.
“Moshe, that fucking machine done run out of malt liquor! Why don’t it never run
out of chips?!? Why is it always the fucking malt liquor? Motherfucker!”
“Moshe! My boyfriend got electrocuted and shit, I gonna’ sue your ass!”
“Come inside ladies, and watch the broken glass” replied Moshe with oily charm.
“The malt liquor truck will be by tomorrow. Tonight, in the mean time I will give you
some kosher wine to take back when you leave, as for your boyfriend, we have a
replacement here I think you’ll like… Come out James Earl Jones”.
The ladies Ooowed & Aaahed, as the most handsome black man came out of the
closet. “Sign here, riot insurance will cover the broken window.” LaQuandeesha
signed with relish.
Obama III couldn’t take it any longer, he left the shadows and burst through the
door. “Aha! Caught you!” he exclaimed. Obama’s accusing glance went from each to
each; 3 ghetto Hos and a Jew. “You fuckin’ robots! You won’t fuck a brother but you
fuck a robot!”
Cunneleeza, wise as she was smelly said “Obama, you got to calm your ass down.
This is the way of the times, once you fuck robot, you ain’t goin’ back to no regular
nigger” she explained.
Obama III turned his attention to the government Jew. “They make girl nigger
robot?”
“Certainly” replied Moshe Silverstein.
“Well here my benefit card, sell me one that look like Kardashian nigger”.
“Sorry, no can do friend” whistled back Moshe, hiding a grin.
“Why not Nigger!?!” Obama III rolled his eyes, then his head, indicating a readiness
to strike.
“Benefit cards only buy sex robots for negro females of child bearing years, they are
meant to discourage black procreation.”
“Oh yeah!?!” shot back Obama “Well unless I get me a free gibme sex robot myself,
I’m gonna go back to the projects and make a lot of black babies!”
They all laughed at his impotent rage, his 3 former Hos and the Moshe the
government Jew.
It’s funny how things work out; 3 squares and his own cell with gibmes, everything
would have been fine without the Chinese fucking it up. Obama III was beat by the
system, he would never again sire any baby niggers. He would have to be nice to
Moshe the government Jew, he would have to learn his place.
Obama swallowed his pride, ambled shiftless through the searchlight back to the
alley where his fellow displaced black males drank malt liquor and dreamt of the old
days…
THE END

6 Likes
#2

Very impressive composition. Don’t stop writing!

3 Likes
#3

Interesting glimpse into the future. Some things never change, niggers be niggers and jews be jews.

4 Likes
#4

I just wanted to mention that I found this detail rather implausible: he would only have observed the failure of the tank to refill if he had actually flushed the toilet, something rare among niggers. But hey, I don’t want to be a fanatic.

1 Like
#5

Thanks for the encouragement!

2 Likes
#6

Tolstoy himself couldn’t have written a better story.

black%20Shaking%20head

#7

Really appreciate the compliment! Just posted ‘PLAN B’ & if you weren’t a Nazi already, this short story may put you over the edge!

1 Like