Elizabeth

Stvens

        "If I were dad, you'd be nothing more than a wet spot on your Mom's forehead!" and with that, a loud door slam vibrated the room. Not one to mix words, Beth was both brash and smart; intelligently brilliant at times, but her ideals, more than most, directed her life, and directed them in an almost evil way that made people who knew her reject at sight.

         The second of 6 kids, Elizabeth Stevens, "Beth" as she prefered, rejected the order of things. The only order she knew. Primarily because in this pecking order, she may as well have been one hundredth rather than second.  She lived her life as if life itself owed her something. And being only 19, she had no sense nor care of why society was what it was, she only cared to antagonize it. 

        "If you are finished jacking off, I need in to get ready to go!" the buxom blonde shouted into the door jam. Instantly, the bathroom door flies open in an arm-controlled swing, hoping to hit any unwitting passers-by, inflicting maximum punishment. But this clearly had intent. "Kiss my ass you piece of shit!" Brooks muttered. Beth's youngest male sibling stormed from the bathroom, purposefully shoulder checking his half sister and knocking the green jelly bean she was sucking on from her mouth. 

        "Fuck you, you half breed!" the older sibling reciprocated, walking into the bathroom to do her normal head, hips, and ass check before walking out of the house and off to work.  However on this rare occasion, she remembered to brush her teeth; something she often forgot to do because she ate so much candy.  Her impatience often resulted in horrible personal hygiene, opting to place her hands in front of her mouth to check her breath, rather than to put brush to teeth. And still, with all of the cavities she kept her dentist busy with, her body could put any man in a diabetic coma.

        "I have to work until 9 mom, so please stay out of my room, or at least, clean it afterwards!" the last jack-assy thing she could muster before slamming the front door behind her.  As she walked to the car waiting in the driveway, she yells, "Shitstick, lock the door so the neighbors don't rape you!"  Looking over her left shoulder, she satisfyingly sees, sweeping her porch, her intended subject, Mrs. Corring.  "Hi Mrs. Corring, I almost didn't see you there. You try to leave my lil bro alone today ok?!"  The stoic responsive glare was all she needed to get her day steaming past true north.  Opening the door of Marm's grey "monster," as he called it, Beth climbed in and they pulled off.

        "Can you keep your stanky feet off my dash please?  I don't want my car smelling like your ass!" He jabs.

        "Eat me, you pedophile!" 

        "You know what. . . fuck you!" he angrily retorts. "You're gonna get sick of calling me that shit when your ass is walking to work you fucking bitch!" his voice quivered as she clearly struck a nerve! 

        "Awww, did I make you mad toddler turd burglar " she antagonistically replied.  Not even making it to the end of the first main street, Marm stands on the brakes, and yells, "GET THE FUCK OUT!!  You shit mouth bitch, im done with you talking shit about me. Get the fuck out of my car!"  

        "I was just playing, damn!  Don't get your little baby balls in a knot!"

His final ounce of resistance had him left. Marm's right arm; seemingly with a mind of its own, launched, slamming harshly into the whole of her nose.  Beth's eyes immediately welled up.

        "Get the fuck out!" Marm demanded, lifting his arm so to striker her again. Absorbing the shot, though her eyes watering involuntarily, Beth turned and glared at Marm in the coldest, retaliatory stare that made him stutter..."I..I said, Get Out!"  

        "I'll get out when you drop me the fuck off at work!"  Staring at each other in a side-eyed staring contest-like gaze, only the honk from the traffic behind them broke the stalemate.  Marm slowly release his foot from the brake, and drove off.

         Not a word was spoken and Beth made no attempt to wipe the tiny trickle of blood from the inside of her left nostril that slowly appeared. Choosing instead, to loogie-sniff it back into her head and swallowing it; mucus and all.  Personal hygiene is not her strong suit.  When triggered, she would almost forget to breathe if it wasn't an involuntary.

         Marm pulls up to "Armstrong's," the Body shop where Beth works, and sheepishly demands, "Will you please exit my car?!"  Hoping to push a final daggar into Marm's clearly fragile feelings of the moment, she steps out. Turning around, she replies calmly, "Thank you, you castration dodger."  Enraged, Marm spits towards the window where she is standing, hitting her dead-shot in the face. He had this ready and was clearly preparing to shoot. Cowardly, he peels off, tires screeching causing a scene outside of the store.  She doesn't even so much as wipe the spit off of her face, she simply smooths her sides, lifts her breasts and proceeds. "Another day in this shithole!" she says to herself as she turns towards the door, and enters.

        In a world turned upside down by Svak, diversity of genetics is appreciated; absolutely worshipped.  Anything that prevents diversification is admonished, abolished, even destroyed. Long past are the days when a man is lynched because he looks different. Now, differences are determined by sex. Not male or female, but actual sex. Penis into Vagina and subsequent explosion thereafter sex. So there is no greater betrayal to white humanity than being homosexual. And that is Marm's "affliction" as it is called today.

        Two years ago, Marm set out to have sex.  Not because he wanted to procreate in the manner expected of a white male, but in the way strictly set to satisfy his own personal desires.  Stories are told of how the religious used to accost or even kill homosexuals, claiming they were doing "Gods" work.  But now, with the re-discovery of the Svak Gene, and the new classification, "all religious ideologies that originally separated us have been turned on their heads.  Relaxed are laws that protected the masses, the majority, and the powerful, as having Svak turned power on its head. Marm seeking to take advantage of a system designed to ensure his survival, committed its only punishable offense: non-procreational sex. Marm was caught having anal sex with an underaged white boy. A crime punishable by subjective means depending on how many times you have been caught.  It is not against the law to be Afflicted, it is only against the law to completely ward off diversifying sex if you are Afflicted. Being caught countless times, due to his idiotic negligence, Marm stands to be castrated and marked. Once you are deemed an enemy to diversity, you are rendered worthless, your life meaningless and expendable, and Marm has his final hearing tomorrow.  Needless to say, he is a little stressed.

         Beth entered Armstrong's with the same attitude she always does: shit-ass rotten. "My check was wrong again Darius!  The only reason I blow you is to get my check right!" she called out!   "That should tell you how good your blow jobs are!" her manager cried out to the applause of the entire shop.  Throwing up her middle finger, Beth walks to the back locker room to stow her jacket and purse.

         Deciding whether to follow the "no-cellphone rule" she checks her phone to notice 5 missed calls and 8 text messages. Opting only for the text messages, she reads: 3 messages from Mom, a nice "Fuck You" from Brooks, a reminder text connected to her "to-do" list with her Father's picture attached, and a long message from Passy thats been broken up into 3 separate texts.   Passymake sure you go by the store to get the supplies for tmrw night. News said that stores will be closed wednesday and we won't have a chance like this for a long time if ever. Put it on your daily to do list and set the time for later. Tell your pops I said hi. Also, can I fuck your mom? You know, membership has its privileges! hahaha  Lates. 

        Rolling her eyes so hard, she remembers to put her finger inside the tip of her left nostril to see if the blood is still wet.  Its dry, with flakes of dry blood crumpling off of her fingers.  "I'm good!" she says to herself.  Standing up, she takes her hand and lifts it up to her face. Opening her mouth, she takes a huge "HAAAAHHHOOWW" and blows into her hand to check her breath. It smells like a mixture of jelly beans and spoil saliva. 

        "Im Good."

         Leaving her uniform polo in her locker because the tails are so long that it covers her perfectly shaped 19 year old ass, she walks out from behind the back storeage wall and onto the floor. Switching in her tight casual dress, "Can you get that guys keys and grab his car from the back please?" a female voice shouts out. "OK HUN!" she responds in kind.  "Who's car am I getting?" Beth calls out.  "It's mine Ma'am." a male voice answers. Whipping around to see an amazingly dapper and extremely attractive mulatto with short hair, abs so chisled you can see them through his overcoat, and a smile with lips like two new caterpillars.  

         Immediately attracted, yet, unreactive, Beth asks calmly, "What kind of car is this?  "Its a LONG BLACK ONE." he slyly responds with an evil grin clearly implying the obvious.  "Ok, I'll be right back."

Instead of exiting from through front door, she leaves through the back room. Choosing to stop and grab her cell from her locker, she continues on to the back holding pen. 

        "Armstrong's" was originally a paint and body shop for 40 years until the Svak "panic" made people question the use of certain chemicals, poisons, compounds; just about anything generally accepted that came from a petrochemical company.  After the Neo War of 1972 and the subsequent "Ascension," Petrochemicals were banned. Almost overnight, Armstrong's was out of business. Remaining closed for around 10 years, Clarance Armstrong reopened in the 80s as a car audio installation shop. He owned the land and building so he put it to good use. Clarence was an old school man with old school values. He hated the Ascension more than his shop closing. He told many about how great things were "in the day" with a glint in his eyes that left you missing a history you never even lived. That was his appeal.  That, and his beautiful reddish-blonde hair.

        "Thurday will be legit!" Beth types into her phone as she walks to the pen holding completed cars. Using the panic alarm, she locates the customer's vehicles, and sure enough, it is long and black. Definitely not what its owner had in mind, but still, it would have made her search rather easy even if she didn't have the clicker. Climbing in, her phone buzzes in her hand. "You can't spell for shit! Fine, Don't forget the store!" the reponding text read.  Putting the phone in her pocket, Beth turns the key and drives to the front of the store, where the tall attractive latte-mixed man awaited.  

         Stepping out of the four wheel phallic, Beth hands the keys to the gentleman who's own large hands quickly, but gently envelopes hers. "Thank you Ma'am." he says sexily. Purposefuly destroying the mood, Beth cranks up the volume so high, so quickly, that she inadvertntly blows one of the man's new speakers. The raspy distorted sound reverberates throughout the parking lot prompting Darius to come flying out of the side door as if his children were on fire.  

        "WHAT THE HELL....?" he screamed over the not-yet silenced Hip Hop beats. Reaching across Beth's breasts to turn down the volume, making sure his ear brushed against what should be a nipple, the Man slowly turned down the music to a low hum of background ambiance to say, "Looks like I need a new sub huh?"  

         Darius gave Beth the most death-desirous look. "Its ok, really. . ." Side-eyeing the teenager, he calmly remarks, " . . . just means I get to come back and see her again." the man cunningly quipped.  Worried more about the possibility of poor reviews, Darius apologized profusely.  "We have more. Besides, maybe this time, Darius will give you the rebate amount he was supposed to give you."  Giving her the most eye-gouging look a person could ever give another, Darius interrupted, "That's uncalled for Beth, go in side.  I'll talk to you in a minute."

         Walking away, Beth purposefully ats as if she clips a rock in the parking lot, causing her to stumble a bit. Her slight imbalance was a ploy to regain herself, exposing her tight 19 year old figure through her form fitting dress. Bending over, she reveals to the man, all but invitingly, that she wore no panties underneath.  The man was hooked, Darius had his back turned and saw nothing. Regaining her composure, Beth walked back through the front door. However, out of the corner of her eye, to the left, she caught a glimpse of a man staring at the entire scene uninspired.  As she turned her head, she walked through the door and lost sight of him.

         After about five minutes, Darius storms into the building. "What the Fuck was that?" he screamed.  "Darius, I just got you paid! You know these dick hard guys LOOOVE this shit here!" throwing her hips and ass around as if swinging a hula.  "If I were you, I'd just shut the fuck up and get that man his speaker!  Ignorant ass negroid!" Darius immediately rears up, eyes red as if he was about to cry or explode. About to respond angrily and loud, he stops himself, gains his composure, and says, "You know what, whatever. . . you fucks are dying off anyways.  We just have to sit back and watch!"  And as he walks past, Beth grabs his arm and speaks directly into the side of his head, "And you know what? We're just letting you monkeys live...remember that!"

Angry because he can't punch her in the face, Darius smirks slightly and walks off to the store room to check for another sub woofer.

         Just then, the unknown strange man standing outside, the one Beth caught merely a glimps, walked through the door. Eyes connected, his emotionless face was intimidating and serious.  Never unweilding and definitely not one to flinch, did just that - she looked away first.  The man, after about 5 minutes of straight uncomfortable staring walked over to her and stated calmly, "How many?"

         Instantly annoyed, because she was unsure of what he was referring to, with an attitude she responded, "How many what?"

   "How many mutt babies do you have?"

   proudly she answered, "none." 

   "How many have you fucked?"

   "What babies? None!"

   "I meant those negroids"

   "Oh, enough to keep my citizenship, I am 19 after all." she smirkingly replied.

   "Who is your Father?"

   "My dad? That's none of your fucking business...who the fuck are you." responding angrily. Any discussion about her Father was off-limits to everyone who's not invited.

   "You're a Stevens aren't you? your Mother is that whore Lacy isn't she? You have 3 half breed siblings don't you?" the man accurately accounts.

   "Buddy, your stalker ass needs to get out of my face, I'm warning you." 

   "Your daddy is a legend, do you know that?" the man reveals.

   "Was a legend you mean?"  At that moment, the mood was disturbed by a customer in the waiting area who raised the volume on the television so everyone could hear:

The storm has now enveloped over 85% of the gulf of Mexico, making this storm the largest and most unusual, non hurricane event ever recorded. . . or at least in the last 40 odd years. Winds inside the storm, which rests approximately one hundred and fifty miles off of the Texas coast rages with multiple vortices colliding with each other at over 280 miles per hour. Behaving more like hundreds of EF 5 Tornados over the ocean, if this storm: Tropical Storm P as they are calling it, makes landfall after sitting in the gulf for over three weeks will inflict major catastrophic damage over the united states as it now moves north at 4 miles per hour.  Expected to make landfall in slightly less than 24 hours. 

        "Is a legend, I said it right young lady. Sometimes you should just be quiet and listen. I'll be in touch before the storm hits." And like that, the man walked out as his ride had arrived and sat waiting. He climbed in and rode off.

         Thinking about what he said, Beth grabbed her phone to check her to-do list. Instantly, a picture of her Father displays on the screen so to appear as if he is reminding her to complete her daily tasks; almost talking to her. Demanding that she be an adult. That is what she remembers of him. She got her strength and hardheadedness from him.  Her steadfast anger from him. Her love of hate from him. Her suicidal tendencies from him.

         And its hard not to be angry. With things the way that they are, true believers live in a nostalgia that must be repressed but for their own survival. That wanton lust for supremacy has been replaced by that all too human desire to survive. Putting aside all personal or ideological reasoning, a purposeful upbringing, even demonstratively cultural preservation has been replaced by a humbling faux commingling of ethnicities and backgrounds. Whatever Karma is, it struck back with a vengence. And it is the collective punishment type of Karma. A Karma that is generational. And whats worse, is it's self imposed.  This is not the Karma applied to the losers. It's a Karma of the worse kind. A Karma that comes in the form of a championship. You won, now suffer.  And this makes even the most hardened of folks swallow their words. For true victory, neither they nor anyone they could even fathom in their familial lineage will ever celebrate. This victory is evolutionary, and could be extinguished or forfeited at a moments noticed. The stress of it all.

         Beth wears this anger on her shoulders daily, because she, unlike many, is tacitly aware of the origins of this humbling. Most people think nothing of the Ascension. Its just something that is. The funny thing is depending on who you ask, they will tell you some version of, "Well this is how humanity should be."  But for people like her; young people with old memories, imputed by their forebearers who glamorize and glorify the Neo Wars, their beginnings and its near successes, it brings about it a prideful knowledge of self that only the knowing can appreciate. 

         But this is not the 70s, its been 40 years plus years since, and now, with extinction all-but certain, the fight is more within than with them.

© 2019 by Malik Leigh, P.A.

Watson Leigh, P.A.

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