Prologue: Montage of Sick
[A robotic voice emitted from shit speakers]
“If there are any White Supremacists reading this, I have a message for you: You will find no fulfillment in your ideology. Your hate will never be satisfied and your anger will never subside. I encourage you to find peace and mercy in the only place where it is authentic and unending. That is in our Lord and...”
Fr. William Aitcheson (2)
[I’m sorry, your call has been disconnected; please press *6 AT&T wireless for assistance]
In grade nine math, Eunice Johnston’s teacher Mr. Osborne kept an aqua-blue budgie in a cage near the front window. While Mr. Osborne wrote formulas on the board, his back to class, Terrence Battle one of the slick boys took the bird from its cage and effortlessly broke its neck. He tossed it to the floor and stepped on it, forcing out bloody goo like toothpaste from its tube. It smeared Terrence’s nice white Nike treads.
The students watched in silence.
The ginger haired forty-something teacher perhaps sensing a disturbance turned to scan the room with his ice cold stare. He marched over and stood before Terrence.
Terrence looked at Mr. Osborne with a whatcha gonna do about it smirk, his metallic grill showing from inside his mouth.
Mr. Osborne placed his two large hands around Terrence’s African American neck and sealed his windpipe closed forever.
The students remained silent with their mouths agape.
Terrence’s metallic grill was no longer visible as he slumped to the ground. He was deader than a doornail.
Moments later the door opened. A Black Panther in full regalia sporting a dark beret, a leather trench coat and kickass boots entered the classroom. He cocked his .38 shotgun and aimed it at Mr. Osborne. Then fired enough shots to blow Mr. Osborne to smithereens.
“I cannot make myself believe that God wanted me to hate. I’ve seen such hate on the faces of too many sheriffs in the South. Our oppressors have used violence. Our oppressors have used hatred. Our oppressors have used rifles and guns. I’m not going to stoop to their level. We have a power that can’t be found in Molotov cocktails.”
Martin Luther King Jr.
[In robotic voice]
“Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow and red placing them on separate continents. Except with man’s interference with his arrangement there would be no cause for such marriages. The fact he separated the races shows he did not intend for races to mix.”
Chief Justice Warren (3)
Eunice prayed on her hands and knees while rocking back and forth. Tears seared her cheeks, “Forgive them for they know not what they do… but you know what YOU did. YOU changed our lives FOREVER! As long as I live I vow to never rest while the weak suffers.”
[Crackling noise blared from the too-loud P.A.]
“The images from Birmingham embarrass America! But for those who have repented from their destructive past, these images should bring us to our knees in prayer. Racists have polluted minds, twisted by an ideology that reinforces the false belief that they are superior to others.”
Fr. William Aitcheson (2)
Eunice woke in the middle of the night to the sound of snap, crackle and pop from a bonfire just outside her bedroom window. She got out of bed to take a look. From her second floor window she saw a ten-foot cross burning on her Columbia Street lawn. She heard her parents, Martha and Curtis none-the-wiser snoring in their master bedroom.
Earlier Eunice had witnessed the murder of a black boy in her math class by a White Supremacist. She was still numb wondering how the Black Panther had been so swiftly detained for murder and how the klan knew she’d witnessed it.
In her black slip dress and ballet slippers Martha ran downstairs and out the front door. She tripped to the ground falling on her stomach. The heat of the cross burned behind her back. She picked herself up and made a bee-line toward the First Street Baptist Church.
She would hide there until she mustered enough courage to file a police report. She prayed Aunt Angela would be there when she arrived.
“Eunice Johnston is obsessive, bordering on psychopathy. She demonstrates a complete inability to maintain human relationships due to her passion for assisting the maligned and in turn jeopardizing any human relationship she has ever had.”
Dr. Lynch [top-notch headshrinker]