Drunken Nights

We got out of the bar, drunk and rowdy, into the night street. We sang some song about white power and made yuppie scum flee from our heavy boots. That is when we saw two guys holding hands. Disgusting, tight tops, perfect hair, toned bodies.

“Hey, faggots,” shouted Jim, all serious.

“Hey, butt pirates,” Sam was doing the crazy joker thing.

“Faggots,” I chimed in.

They looked over the shoulder, started walking faster, we followed. Finally, we caught up and forced them into an alley.

“You’re an abomination in the eyes of the Lord,” said Sam, “And you’re making the white race shrink. Shrink like my cock when I see you.”

They were scared, but one of the faggots spoke: “Hey, you guys don’t need to do this. You can just let us go. We don’t want any trouble.”

“They probably take black cock up their asses as well,” said Jim.

“Do you?” said Sam “Do you let jungle monkeys fuck you? Huh? You pieces of shit?”

“We are not afraid of you,” said the brave faggot, “We’ve known guys like you all our lives. School or no school, you’re just bullies. And guess what. You’re not gonna change anything. You’re sad.”

We came down on them kicking and stomping. We were not very angry. Just your regular kick-the-shit-out-of-them routine with a little sense of unity (brothers in arms) and a bit more reason (do not go to jail for killing a couple of fags). Then we just turned around and left.

As we were leaving, two sodomites keeping their faces to the ground, waiting for us to be gone. The brave faggot was crying. The other one crawled over and put his arm around him in a caring gesture. Made me remember my mom and me. I turned away ran a few steps to catch up with the guys.

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