MN Manmacker's mansploitation
Steel’s an alcoholic, an ex-con and an alpha male with mixed feelings about white men. His years in prison, dealing drugs and working on an oil rig have given him plenty of opportunities to form opinions on ’em. And he’s ready to share ’em all!
But that’s not the only thing he’s gonna share. Steel’s had legions of man-on-man experiences at the top and on bottom. He’s done it all, and you’re about to get every one of the macho, manly, hardcore and raunchy details!
Never give coke to a Australian girl. Australian females was the worst kind of white girl.
He ain’t get what David done said, but he picked up the gist: David got cash, and he ain’t got a lotta sense. He gots enough foolishness to buy coke for a Australian chick, for one thing.
Tyrell knew enough about white girls to know that was a bad idea. That’s a relationship that’s gonna end with her putting a brick in her purse and slamming it into this honky’s head. Never give coke to a Australian girl. Australian females was the worst kind of white girl.
From Tyrell the Ex-Con
Thumper smoked weed on the reg, did lines of coke now and then, snorted heroin once when he thought it was coke, and he did something unpleasant called salvia that caused reality to ooze and twist like funnel-cake batter in hot oil.
In his early years in prison, Thumper smoked weed on the reg, did lines of coke now and then, snorted heroin once when he thought it was coke, and he did something unpleasant called salvia that caused reality to ooze and twist like funnel-cake batter in hot oil. Once he got out though, he ain’t give none that no mind. The outside world was crazy enough for him.
They got Asian hobos now. Asians! Wouldn’t-a happened before. Bill looked at Thumper like a racist telescope when he pointed that out to him.
From Thumper on Parole
“You wanna hear somethin’ racist, you tell Mistuh Gregarian ’bout that plan. You’ll hear somethin’ racist fo’ real.” He muttered through a derisive sneer as he backed the Jag out of its parking spot, “Laequan!…”
“Mistuh Gregarian is the one who’s payin’ me, and he dislike black folk more than he like you. If’n I tells him I ain’t let’cha go into some ghetto traphouse, he gonna give me a raise. You buyin’ drugs from a homeboy? No way.”
“Oh my god!”
“Did you just say homeboy? What decade are you from?! We’re currently now, in the present, okay?”
“Laequan’s no jive turkey, he’s a cool kat, daddy-o.”
“You ain’t buyin’ drugs from a homeboy named Laequan,” Buck said. He put the car in reverse. “You wanna hear somethin’ racist, you tell Mistuh Gregarian ’bout that plan. You’ll hear somethin’ racist fo’ real.” He muttered through a derisive sneer as he backed the Jag out of its parking spot, “Laequan!…”
