Discuss Your Donuts

You remember in Who Framed Roger Rabbit, how Eddie Valiant started to be prejudiced against all toons after one dropped a piano on his brother's head? Well I'm worried I'm becoming like that with black guys. In the past two years, I've been assaulted twice, each time by a black guy. One at completely random when I was just sitting on the bench at the bus station when he came up and sucker punched me. Second time was more recently when this guy was harassing his girlfriend on the train, she told him to leave her alone, he wouldn't, and I opened my big dumb mouth and told him to give the lady some space, so he walks up and punches me. I'm worried that I'm more nervous around black guys in the city than I am around white guys.

(I know Yea Forums's not the best place to express one's worries about being racist as a bad thing, but this is an anonymous place)

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Yuck.

Yuck.

I still can't believe it's not butter.

Moved from America to a poorer country in Europe two years ago to be with my girlfriend now wife and mother of our four month old boy. To make money I've been teaching English. I've had this one class of 16 to 17 year olds. They all love me. Spend the last 15 minutes of class telling them stories about America or about my experiences in their country. Genuinely love this class. Give them my discord one day. Cute tomboyish 16 year old adds me and wants me to send her a bunch of songs because she likes my taste in music. I fell in love with her right then. I won't act on it. I couldn't do that to my wife and son but damn if I was like 10 years younger and single.

Tits unrelated.

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Bismarks are good, it's like a boston cream, but with vanilla cream instead of custard. Pic coukd possible be related

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I let my boss cum in my mouth

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Are you gay?

I grew up in a small town where there was nothing to do, so people started fucking, drinking and doing drugs really early mainly out of boredom, and I was the same way, basically to fit in. My younger cousin had a fucked up home life and really low self esteem, so I started bringing her to hang out, and encouraging her to have fun. The guys we hung out with weren't particularly good people and didn't care that she was younger, and it wasn't long before she was doing stuff with them, which at the time was pretty fun. I ended up moving away, but I'd still go back to visit a couple times a year and she was just more and more out of control. I know there's a good chance she would have ended up like that regardless, but I do feel responsible and feel kind of bad.

Same

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I think you need to learn to defend yourself. A few years ago I was walking on a county trail and jot jumped by a black guy. Wanted to steal my phone and headphones. I picked that stupid motherfucker up and threw him into a cactus. You need to learn to throw motherfuckers into cati when they bother you.

My family ran a TTI program in the early 90s and it was unironicqlly the best time of my life.

I had unlimited cluster b jailbait pussy on tap. They tried to get pregnant from me to get out of the program but didn't know that I had a vasectomy.

It kind of broke me as I can't get erect with legal women anymore and without the camp I'm not risking a life sentence.

I'm not but most ppl think I am

Get tits, don't come back around till then.
Edit story to say 17 to 18 on the next post

Nope

What if there are no cacti around, cause I live in Los Angeles, not the set of The Three Amigos.

i wanna be fucked by animals

Pitch an avocado at his head really hard.

post more of the unrelated tits

Had a Korean TKD instructor when I lived on Guam.
Great guy. He told me belts were only good for keeping your pants on. I got my yellow belt so I didn't look like a noob
but never bothered getting more that I qualified for.

Closet bi who became a cumdump for my best friend’s dad. He never found out

Guess who's back, back again
Adejo's back, tell a friend
Guess who's back, guess who's back
Guess who's back. guess who's back
Guess who's back, guess who's back, guess who's back
I created a monster, 'cos nobody wants to
See Secrets threads no more they want Adejo
You're chopped liver
Well if you want Adejo, then this is what I'll give ya
A little bit of me mixed with some hard liquor
Some vodka that will jumpstart my heart quicker
Then a shock when I get shocked at the hospital
By the Doctor when I'm not cooperating
When I'm rocking the table while he's operating
Hey, you waited this long to stop debating
'Cos I'm back, I'm on the rag and ovulating
I know that you got a job to do Kike
But your behavior is no longer acceptable
So the FCC won't let me be
Or let me be me so let me see
They tried to shut me down on MTV
But it feels so empty without me
So, come on and dip, bum on your lips
Jump back jiggle a hip and wiggle a bit
And get ready, 'cos this is about to get heavy
I just settled all my lawsuits, fuck you Kike
Now this looks like a job for me
So everybody just follow me
'Cos we need a little controversy
'Cos it feels so empty without me
Now this looks like a job for me
So everybody just follow me
'Cos we need a little controversy
'Cos the thread is so empty without

>Me Adejo

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The fat man had his arm around Adejo's uncle's neck like they were old friends, every now and then pulling him closer when there was some particular part of the song he felt he needed to share more intimately, singing into his uncle's ear and making him smile in a way that looked painful.

Whoever the fat man was – and Adejo couldn't imagine his uncle ever being friends with a white person – he seemed to be the only one who knew the words of the song (that Adejo thought might be Irish, but then he hadn't heard Irish before, at least he didn't think so), blasting out the lyrics with a viciousness that made him look like he wished he had something to kick while he was singing.

Adejo still wasn't quite sure how his uncle had got caught up with the two wedding guests in the first place. He had never been to a wedding before and had been excited until his uncle made it clear that they weren't really going to the wedding. 'We're just going to the kitchen, to pick up the bags. We won't even see the wedding. I'm sorry Adejo. You'll hear it though. I can promise you that.' For a while it seemed that they wouldn't even hear the wedding, let alone see it, because when his uncle parked the van and went to the steel door that led to the kitchen it wouldn't open, no matter how many times his uncle tried pressing different numbers into the pad on the wall.

I know that feeling. I'm a grower, and the fact that I have large-ass hands doesn't help. But I'm pleasantly big. Not King Kong, but definitely not a goldfish. About 6.5, sometimes 7 if I'm at my peak, and thick. And that's fine.

In the end they had to go through the front doors of the hotel (clearly an option of last resort evidenced by his uncle's mutterings beneath his breath), although Adejo felt as if he was entering a palace. The floor was tiled with shiny stone, with four pillars (pillars, inside!) that stretched up before disappearing into a high ceiling.

'Come on Adejo, keep up! And please don't touch anything.'

The rumble of music and voices got louder the further they walked down the corridor, and when his uncle opened the doors at the end a sound hit Adejo the way the cold had slapped him that first time he got off the plane at the airport. The sound was outrageous, and Adejo immediately covered his ears to try and block out the blur of music and voices, before ducking as flashing coloured lights cut through the gloom as if a flying saucer was about to crash land on top of him.

He kept close to his uncle as they weaved between huge round tables draped with white cloth. They were like giant versions of the mints Adejo's uncle had in the van, only they were speckled with stains both dark and pale. A middle-aged woman watched him with one diseased looking eye as he passed, as a younger man kissed her hard while sharing her chair. An old man stirred a thin, plastic stick around his tall glass while examining something at the bottom of it. He passed another table, where a girl his own age sat alone looking at something on either a huge phone or a tiny TV she held in her hands, the images from the screen painting her face an ever-changing palette of muted colours. Adejo tried to sneak a peek, but his uncle grabbed his arm and dragged him on before he had the chance.

The kitchen was as bright as the big room was dark, a blaze of quivering florescent lights and shiny metal surfaces. A thin man with the dishevelled appearance of an artist wore a food splattered apron as he wiped the surfaces with a cloth, creating smeary waves that adorned everything he touched. Adejo's uncle asked the thin man something, and he pointed them deeper into the kitchen.

The air felt sticky, like it had been bundled up, fried in oil, and then released back into the atmosphere. They hadn't gone far when Adejo's uncle reached a huddle of black bags at the back of the room. He lifted one and thrust it unceremoniously in Adejo's direction. It was bulging and heavy, and it almost dragged Adejo down to the floor, but he managed to wrestle it back up with sufficient manly qualities that he hoped would impress his uncle on what was his first night at work. Adejo was keen to prove his worth. He didn't want these first impressions to be clouded by sympathy. With Adejo wrestling one black bag his uncle effortlessly carried the other three, before two men on the dance floor (the fat man and his emaciated sidekick), blocked his path, the skinny one snatching a bag from his uncle's grip that he was now swinging around like he and the bag were old lovers.

Adejo slunk into the seat that the kissing couple had vacated. Numerous drinks had been abandoned on the table, and with no obvious claims of ownership in the vicinity Adejo was tempted to take a furtive sip from the glass nearest to him. He suddenly felt overwhelmed by thirst, whether from the suffocating heat in the room or the sickly kitchen smells now lodged in his throat. But just then Adejo was distracted by the sight of his uncle managing to break free of the commotion, and after a mildly aggressive game of tug-of-war with the bag dancer, his uncle persuaded him to relinquish his dancing partner. Adejo couldn't hear what was being said, but suddenly the bag dancer was shouting while trying not to fall over, and the fat man – who only a second ago had been hugging Adejo's uncle – was now jabbing a finger at him, his face all rashy and sweaty. But at least his uncle had the bag back, and was now moving away from the dance floor, a quick glance at Adejo confirming his own suspicions that now was probably a good time for him to move too.

There was a risk that the same shiny floors they were now navigating in the opposite direction would scupper Adejo's delicate balancing act, his hands carefully cradling the hidden glass pressed against his skin beneath his jumper. He tried to keep pace with his uncle who marched in front of him, dragging the black bags around one of the pillars before the glass doors miraculously separated upon some unseen command.

It was only now, in the clear air outside, that the fug of filth fermenting inside the bags hit Adejo. And only now that Adejo realised that he didn't have his bag; that he had left it back on the floor by the table.

'Where is it?' his uncle said, reading his nephew's mind as if turning the pages of a children's book. 'The bag I gave you?'

when do you sleep?

'I ... eh ... I'm sorry Uncle Kayin, I ... I think I left it where I was sitting.'

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Adejo had never heard his uncle curse. What made it worse was that he cursed in Hausa. And what made it worse again was that he struck his fist off the back of the van. Adejo thought his uncle might swear again, and follow up by striking him instead of the hard metallic surface of the vehicle, an act Adjeo thought would be appropriate to the sense of guilt he was feeling.

He'd only known his Uncle Kayin two weeks, but sensed that a man who turned the radio up full blast to sing-a-long to a song he liked ('A great way to learn English Adejo!' he had shouted on the drive down) wasn't usually prone to acts of violence, let alone repeated acts. At least Adejo hoped not. After all, this was 'The Great Example' Adejo's mother had spoken of with such adoration. Yet now the legend seemed diminished in the flesh, reality rendering his uncle fallible no matter how glorious the reputation preceding him. The status of being known as 'The Great Example' had even overshadowed his first name, Uncle Kayin. In fact, it was only when Adejo learned that he was to follow in his uncle's footsteps that he heard the real name of his mother's brother, the living proof that the journey could not only be endured, but that it could end in glory.

‘What’s wrong with your stomach?' his uncle asked, the keys to the van jangling nervously in his hand.

'It's okay,' Adejo said, ‘It just hurts a bit.’ convinced that the sweat-slicked glass might slip from its hiding place at any moment and shatter at their feet.

'Suck on a mint,' Uncle Kayin said, plopping the keys into Adejo's free palm. 'I think there's one left.'

Adejo nodded. He hoped his uncle might tell him it was 'okay' or offer him a 'no harm done', but he said nothing, before turning and trudging back towards the hotel, a weary figure swallowed by the darkness before reemerging in the ballooning light of the entrance.

With his uncle gone Adejo sat sucking the last mint in the passenger seat of the van as instructed (it was the least he could do), debating where he could get rid of the glass that he could see now had the filter of a smoked cigarette floating in it. He'd drunk worse – much worse – but now his curiosity about the golden liquid buoying the butt no longer held any appeal, and any thirst he'd used to justify taking the glass in the first place was being eased by the mint, a thirst that he had no right to indulge in the first place. Adejo was disgusted with himself that he'd disappointed his uncle, and surely blown any chance he ever had of accompanying him on another job. His uncle had even bestowed a level of responsibility on him that he was surely expected to uphold, a pact of trust that Adejo had betrayed in an instant by leaving the bag behind.

devilish manipulation disguised as an instant moral boost. There universal acceptance makes them easy tools to define hierarchy; just add sprinkles.

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The beer swirled round and round in the glass, Adejo increasing the pace until the surface level of the liquid repeatedly broke over the butt, drowning it again and again. Each time it tried to fight its way back up Adejo realised just how helpless their plight must have been that night, their solitary boat alone in the dark while nature or God or fate or bad luck toyed with their lives, dragging them under, then letting them rise again, dragging them under, then letting them rise again, with the roof of each new wave collapsing on their heads until the roar of the water had silenced the screams of the dying.

>There
did you mean their?

When the boat went over, tilting on one side as the welter of human bodies moved as one to see the distant coastline twinkling like a line in the constellations, the glee of sighting land in the murky gleam of dawn was crushed by the crank of metal lifting and a great swoosh of water rushing away from the hull. For a moment Adejo was in the sky, as if looking out from a tall building over the ocean, but then he was falling as quickly as he had risen, tossed with hundreds of others in the collective splay of arms and legs as their once condensed bodies were suddenly being dispersed in a spray of screams.

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The crest of a wave had risen up to meet Adejo as he struck it, landing on his back atop the watery peak. The ocean opened up for him as it did for others all around him, perfectly sized perforations for the bodies that peppered the surface. Beneath the water line Adejo saw a woman with a shawl around her neck and her single exposed breast glowing in the gloom like a beacon. Others thrashed their limbs in various failed combinations in the hope they might trick their bodies into the virgin act of swimming, yet one boy kicked to the surface with an ease that suggested he had been born in the depths, while all around him others started to sink helplessly, their tightly sealed mouths now giving way to gurgling screams, a flush of bubbles the last thing Adejo ever saw of them before a hand grabbed him.

I'm in love with my best friend who got engaged a few months ago. A year ago she admitted to me that she loved me and we talked about how we felt the same way for years.

Don't know how or if I'll ever be able to get over it. I have tried dating 2 exceptionally great women since she started dating her fiancee, but she was always in the back of my mind during the relationships.

The air met his lungs on the surface, assaulting them with fresh life while the man who had lifted him there was already diving again. Adejo never saw him rise; losing sight of the spot where he had descended; the constant churn of waves erasing it as soon as it had been created.

Greentext any?

Adejo clung on at the point the man had dragged him to: a section of the hull of the capsized boat. To his right others clung on with equally precarious grips, a herd of bodies fighting for traction, some winning, some losing.

My girlfriend doesn’t know my real name. I always give a different name at bars and didn’t expect to see her again. Now we’re dating and it’s gone too far to bring it up.

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