A Modern PC Love Story

Once upon a time, there was a bisexual albino black man named Charleton Bglippe who set off across the Golden Gate Bridge for the purpose of jumping from it. Originally from Nigeria, he was kidnapped by a Saudi prince, initially for amusement purposes, and then for sexual ones. Bglippe was repeatedly raped by Saudi Princes and Princesses before he was tossed into the Royal Stable, where the horses had their way with him. After escaping by hiding in a bag of cash bound for ISIL and stowing away on a container full of khat bound for Somalis in Canada, he made his way to San Francisco. Although very popular at first, they grew tired of his constant whining and utter lack of money and table manners. He was tired of it all; he was too black to be white, too white to be black, too gay to be straight, and too straight to be gay. His white female lover dumped him for someone blacker and less gay, and his black male lover dumped him for someone whiter and more gay. Bglippe had had enough, and was determined to end it all.

Traveling from the other side of the bridge from her home in Mill Valley was a bisexual woman named Yelena Tatiana Gilt, known to others as Y.T. Gilt. Gilt was born into a wealthy Jewish family of Russian descent that made their fortune by posing as a charity for displaced retarded children from Third World countries and selling their organs in addition to weapons and medical supplies for a handsome profit in the Middle East. 

Completely ashamed of her privilege and comfortable surroundings, she got her nose enlarged and flattened, had her Jew-fro turned into dreadlocks, and had her skin tattooed and darkened to hide the whiteness that she hated so intensely, and told people she was a very light-skinned black. Although initially welcomed by the “community,” it didn’t take her long to become disillusioned; it became obvious that people were using her for her money and really didn’t give a rodent’s rump about her, and saw her for the phony poseur-slummer that she truly was. The final straw came after she was severely beaten by a gang of black women for her shameless appropriations of their culture and their boyfriends.

Suddenly, while Bglippe and Gilt were nearing their respective jumping-off spots on the bridge, there was a commotion in traffic. Cars were swerving and horns were honking, because a medium-sized dog was loose on the bridge. It was a mottled mutt of a dog, but what made it remarkable was that it had only two legs; one in front, and one in back. Evidently, an obscure Voodoo/Santeria-fusion cult needed one each front and hind leg from a dog for an arcane ritual, and then tossed the de-legged dog out on the bridge, hoping it would get either run over, or jump off, which also was part of the ritual. Bglippe and Gilt, completely forgetting their troubles, immediately sprang into action and carried the disabled dog to safety. For all three, it was love at first sight: Bglippe loved Gilt, Gilt loved Bglippe, and the dog loved them both, first by thrusting its snout into Gilt’s crotch, and then humping Bglippe’s leg. The dog was obviously a kindred spirit, and after the dog licked both of them on the face in gratitude and happiness, Bglippe and Gilt decided that life was worth living after all.

After taking the dog to a vet and having canine prosthetics fit to it, they named it Rainbow. Thanks to Gilt’s money, they all moved into a decent apartment in Haight-Ashbury, where the three became celebrities of sorts. As the weeks went by, they noticed something was wrong with Rainbow; his sex drive was reduced and he started losing weight. Another visit to the vet confirmed their worst fears; Rainbow had AIDS. Once again, Gilt’s vast wealth came to the rescue, and while thousands of people starved around her, she spent thousands of dollars on Rainbow’s treatment. Meanwhile, the community rallied around the pathetic pooch, and amazingly enough, Rainbow seemed to recover. After a couple of more weeks, he gained weight, and even resumed his crotch intrusions of Gilt, and his peg-legged leg humping of Bglippe. All was well again, or so they thought.

One day, after coming home from an anti-Trump riot and a flag-burning ceremony, they noticed Rainbow was missing. After calling him several times with no response, they frantically began searching their apartment. “RAINBOW!!! RAINBOW!!! WHERE ARE YOU!!! COME OUT!!! COME OUT!!!” Unlike many others they had made that demand to, Rainbow never “came out.” It was about then that they noticed a peculiar burning smell wafting into their pad. They rushed out to the balcony and saw, to their abject horror, Rainbow being barbecued! Their new neighbors were from a remote region of Myanmar, where dogs were to them like turkeys were to Americans; delicacies to be savored on special days. That day apparently was their “barbecue a dog and bark at the Moon” day, as they were chanting and then howling like monkeys in unison as Rainbow was transforming into a grilled doggie dinner for them. Bglippe and Gilt then broke down crying, too devastated and shocked to react.

One of the Myanmarese said to the other, “Ching chong bing chonk bong bink ching.” (Translation: “I think that they’re mad because we didn’t invite them.”)

The other one said, “Kong bonk ling fing ching bonk bonk chong (Translation: “Maybe it’s considered bad manners to cook a dog with these strange things this one has instead of legs. They make great handles though, don’t they?” as he used Rainbow’s prosthetic legs to turn him on the grill.)

After recovering from the shock of watching their beloved Rainbow being savored, Bglippe and Gilt came to their senses. They apologized profusely to the Myanmarese for being culturally insensitive, and were happy that their beloved pet was finally out of its misery, but unfortunately for them, the Myanmarese didn't speak any English. One of them tried to explain to the others:

"Bong bink chong bonk Amerikink ding dong bonk chow lunk ching." (Translation - "They told us that Americans were fucked up and stupid, but they're worse than we thought! We can still fake it though, can’t we? Act nice.")

The others agreed, and they all silently bowed in unison. Bglippe and Gilt tearfully returned to their pad. The Myanmarese started hooting and howling again. After having a festive meal, they returned Rainbow's remains to Bglippe and Gilt, in a doggy bag of course. So much for Rainbow.

Little did they know, this was only the beginning of their troubles. A group of fanatically militant Filipino lesbians overheard their anti-Oriental rant, and immediately formed a mob. They burst into their apartment, screaming at them, ironically, for being a bunch of racist, sexist, homophobic anti-Asian assholes, and severely beat them with curling irons and battered them with broken rice cookers. The police, who knew Bglippe and Gilt very well from their participation in Black Lives Matter riots, were slow to respond, and in any case, a new Krispy Kreme doughnut franchise opened nearby, so they munched on another round of bear claws before making the scene, where they called off the Filipinos by telling them that a new 99 cent store had just opened up next to the Krispy Kreme.

Things continued to worsen. Their landlady evicted them because she couldn't tolerate such intolerant people, and also said that they violated the "no pets" clause in their rental agreement. She also withheld their security deposit, saying among other things that singed dog hair was a bitch to clean up. When they checked their mail, they found even worse news: a letter from the bank, saying that Gilt's account was overdrawn by several thousand dollars. It turned out that Gilt's parents had donated all of her money to the Clinton Foundation. As they had spent all of their cash on Rainbow's treatment, they found themselves destitute and desperate, but at least for Bglippe, it was far from being the first time. He immediately suggested a few things that they could try, and Gilt reluctantly and tearfully went along with it.

For starters, they went to try their luck at an Indian casino. After losing almost all of their remaining cash, an attractive brown woman approached the two. She told them that she knew a hard-luck case when she saw one, and generously offered them $100,000 on one condition: she wanted to have sex with Bglippe. Not only did Bglippe say "No problem," he threw in Gilt as a bonus. Gilt, who preferred her meat dark whether it was male or female, didn't need much arm twisting, and joyfully insisted they get a couple of bottles of peanut oil and KY jelly for the coming festivities. The dark woman said she was prepared, and when they got to her house, they saw why. The dark "woman" was actually a man, and a very well-hung one at that. There was a 55-gallon drum of KY in the living room, which for some reason made both Bglippe and Gilt very uneasy.

Before they could get started in earnest, there was a loud knock at the back door. The brown transvestite registered delightful surprise and enthusiastically answered it. He/she opened the door to find it was Morris Dees of the Southern Poverty law Center. “Oh Morris, come on in,” he/she gushed. “I had given up on you.” Morris Dees went on to apologize for his extreme tardiness, but said that changing out all the donors at the sperm bank from white to black and brown had taken much longer than he thought. Morris Dees and his operatives had been doing that for the last several months in one of their many diverse enterprises to increase diversity by attempting to eradicate white people, or at least reduce its population by any means available to them.

Suddenly, the house shook with thumps and vibrations, and they heard someone yelling, followed by braying and hee-hawing. A door burst open, and Bill Clinton bounded through the door with several donkeys. Clinton asked, “Are the inductees ready for the ceremony?” It then dawned on Bglippe and Gilt the true purpose of why they were brought there. As a sign of true devotion to the Democratic Party, they had to get their asses fucked by the donkeys, but not before Clinton, Dees, and the brown woman had a little “pre-stretch” fun of their own. All three, who had already swallowed a handful of Viagras some time before, took off their pants, while Bglippe and Gilt, being all-too-familiar with “the drill,” got on their hands and knees and stuck their asses in the air as a reflex action. The Democratic Anal Love-In went on for about 15 minutes. Not satisfied with mere humans, Bglippe and Gilt insisted they give the donkeys a turn because, as advocates of diversity, they were both eager to try a donkey. Now they knew why the 55 gallon drum of KY was present. Their PC credentials, already impeccable, would become sterling!

While the Democratic “party” was in progress, the house was surrounded militant Black Panthers, who were very angry and upset that they weren’t invited. Their leader, Kanye West, burst in and announced, “We be tired of all you white muthafuckas doin’ shit witout us niggas! We gonna show yo honkey cracka asses what time it be!!!” The Black Panthers then proceeded to beat them and berate them for being exclusive and elitist hypocrites, and then paused to rob and rape them. While all of this was going on, a formation of aircraft circled the house; it was the KKK Air Force, and the planes were loaded, appropriately enough, with white phosphorous, which they dropped on the house and adjacent property, incinerating everything and everyone. Amazingly enough, Bglippe and Gilt survived; Bglippe by jumping into the 55-gallon drum of peanut oil, and Gilt by running into an adjacent room and jumping into a tub which they thought was water, but turned out to be bleach, as in large-scale anal bleaching.

After the flames and heat died down, Bglippe and Gilt grabbed the only clothes they could find, which were nifty outfits from Banana Republic, and jumped into the brown transvestite’s black Mercedes, which one of the Black Panthers, in the last act of his life, had put a “Trump for President for Life” sticker on the bumper, as a facetious act of sabotage. As they drove away at high speed, both of them made horrible observations. The potent bleach had attacked Gilt’s hair and skin, straightening and turning her hair blond and her skin very white, while a strange allergic reaction to immersion in the peanut oil had had similar effects on Bglippe. They then hit a pothole, and a suitcase in the back seat fell and broke open, revealing that it was jam-packed with $100 bills, compliments of a HRC supporter. While Gilt was in the back seat, bathing herself in their new-found wealth, a gang of illegal Mexicans and a group of Dykes on Bikes had fastened themselves to the Mercedes’ tail, the Mexicans attracted by the Trump bumper sticker, and the Dykes on Bikes to Gilt’s blond hair. Bglippe, instead of accelerating, slowed down in preparation for stopping. “Oh good,” said Gilt. “Once we explain everything, it will all be good.” But, in a cruel twist of fate, the militant terrorist Muslims that Bglippe and Gilt had worked so tirelessly to bring into the country a couple of years before finally showed their true colors: when the Mercedes and the Dykes pulled over, the Muslims, waiting in ambush, screamed out “Get a Haircut!!!” and “Down with dykes!!!” as they detonated a 1000 pound IED, blowing them all into pieces. The Muslims then yelled “Allah Ackbar!!!” as hundreds of $100 bills drifted down all around them, validating their faith in Allah. The militant Muslims then used the cash to buy mini-marts and gas stations across the country, further degrading and subverting it by selling rotgut swill, cheap cigarettes, and lottery tickets to millions of poor and diseased people.

THE END