Residential Unrest

It's no secret that my girlfriend Sissy perhaps identifies with black people more than white since she believes she's 1/32nd black. When we first got together and she told me this I just assumed she was positioning herself for a potential payday should reparations ever happen. Then, after a couple months, I finally worked up the nerve to ask her what she had against toilet paper, and she confided that the large brown area on her back porch wasn't a poop stain, but the 1/32nd she had alluded to earlier. I tried to tell her it was a birthmark, but she said birthmarks are red (which I'm sure would have made her 1/32nd Native American).

Anyway, Sissy's ethnicity has been a source of friction between us in the past, especially during the Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown incidents when her angry protests occasionally gave way to violence, including setting fire to my sock drawer and looting the kitchen nearly every night. Things have thankfully been quiet for the last few months - or at  least were until the Baltimore cops did some bad chiropractic on a thug.

This morning I awoke to the grim aftermath of a night of racial unrest: The living room ransacked with anti-white slogans spray painted on the walls,  television and stereo equipment stolen (I found them in the garage), and the kitchen looted. As I swept up Cheetos and Goldfish, a Coke can suddenly whizzed past my head. I spun to see Sissy protesting in the dining room with some stupid sign (black lifes matter). Her orange lips and fingers implicated her as possibly one of the looters and I made a mental note to keep an eye on her. 

As if that wasn't bad enough, I also noticed Sissy had enlisted my own cat, Mr. Jangles, in her movement (whatever it is). I normally would have been angry at someone tying our sink scrubbing pad to the top of his little head, and duct taping a sign to his fur (no justise no peace) but I was too mesmerized by his appearance to say anything (I must say, he looked good with a 'fro).

Ignoring the taunts and occasional thrown rocks and bottles from the dining room, I finished cleaning the kitchen then hid the stuff I didn't want looted. Afterward, I headed out to buy sandbags and supplies for what promises to be a very long night.