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The Struggles of a Zero-Fucks Author (Part V)

It was the eve of Christmas and I had just finished eating a sandwich at this place called Chandler's; a cafe ran by two fags.

I didn't know before hand, but when I walked inside I was greeted by an overwhelming, "Heyyyy." by the owner and his 'right hand' man. The same right hand that probably jerks him off in the broom closet after balancing the till at night.

Anyway, the food was great.

I didn't want to discriminate; remembering that I am experimenting with my new dark skin that I have worked hard at obtaining during my stay down here in Florida. Gay dudes can sure cook; much better than any straight modern woman, no doubt. Modern women today don't know how to cook, let alone boil water for a meal of Kraft Dinner.

Later on that afternoon, I decided to go out to the pool at my condo residence. Finally, more young and fresh poon had arrived for the holidays. Sitting there, on her phone the whole time (taking selfies), this one chick just couldn't seem to enjoy being out here, in the moment, in the sun, among the palm trees, the amazing wildlife; you are on vacation.

Can women stop attention-whoring, ever?

Do women ever take a goddamn break from it all?

The answer is no, you fucking fool.

The vagina must be adored at all times; the pussy must have a constant stream of dick flying at it. For the pussy does not exist if it is not being constantly petted, stroked and fawned over. If there are no giner tingles inbound, how is it alive?

It's fascinating.

What's also fascinating is that ever since I had challenged myself to transition into an 'oppressed' minority down her, my life has seemed to get... better for some reason.

I don't understand it.

I tanned my skin as dark as Javier the pool boy, yet I am still selling books and feeling that awful sense of accomplishment that I always seem to feel no matter where I am. In fact, my book sales are on pace for the best month, ever.

Which is weird because usually the month of December, for me at least, isn't normally this crazy (most people have already done their Christmas shopping on Amazon by the end of November-early December).

I have sold more books in the last 10 days than I have in the last 2 months. Not sure what is going on because I thought the feminists said it was my White privilege to which caused all of my accomplishments.

My skin is dark, now. How can this be? Why aren't I selling less books? Why hasn't anyone hit me up for drugs yet by the pool? Why have I not be involved in a gang shooting by now? Why haven't I knocked-up a bunch of women yet; chose not to put on a condom and shoot a powerful consignment of cum into the breaches of some bitches?

I am still working on more books to come out next year; still writing blog posts, trading stocks and having income flow heavily; like a fat girl with a wide-set vagina, on her period.

I am starting to think that maybe....just maybe....the color of your skin doesn't affect failure or success. I know....crazy talk, right?!

Anyway, enough about my tan and how feminist science is proving to be on shaky ground...

Let's get back to Mein Kampf as a Zero-fucks author; baking in the Florida heat; drunk as a welfare recipient at the end of every month when the checks are out.

My daily struggle down here is to get my pool routine in without all the fucking kids and old-timers floundering about on noodles and floaties. I try to get out here at around 11 AM or earlier; that's when there seems to be nobody: Old people are still struggling to get that first foot into the shower without pressing the Life Alert; other young people are still hung-over; parents are still cleaning up the spilled milk and cereal from the kitchen tiles. I can do my laps and routine without getting too pissed off with the traffic.


Today, the newest hot piece-of-ass arrived as she normal does (around 11:45 AM).

Constantly swiping on her phone, it made me wonder how many Tinder dates she was trying to line up before Santa comes. Santa only comes once a year; this chick seemed like she wanted to get a sack full of white Christmas cheer before the 25th; her stocking stuffed, her chimney swept and gutted. The halls of her vagina decked by draining balls of cheer. If you could see this girl you would probably think to yourself that she smokes more pole than those two fags who run Chandlers cafe.

About an hour later, the first single-mom had arrived. This was all figured out through word of mouth and the fact that she had no wedding ring on; the husband/boyfriend was nowhere to be found ( I scouted out the van as they all pulled into the residence).

To my shock, she's not bad.

She is actually hot for a single mom.

Not, I'd let her give-me-Aids, hot.

More like, I wouldn't hesitate if she asked me to go bend her over the table in the clubhouse for 5-minutes while her kid swam unsupervised in the deep-end... kinda hot.

If that happened, two people would be struggling and screaming; her and her kid. One [Her], because of the doggy-styled induced orgasms; the other [the kid] because he didn't look like what you would call a 'strong swimmer,' at age 6.

Mid-thirties; tight ass, rock'n bod (no flab) and playful tits. Hips like two curved palm trees; lips that you wouldn't mind watching suck on a ripe mango for a while.

Probably one of the hottest single-moms I have seen in a while. Far from the standard pasty, tatted-up, Shamu, penis-hooker looker of a woman, that seem to want to spit out bastard children faster than how those two fags from Chandler's spit out each others cum after a blow-break in the broom closet. Gay people are very hygienic; too much semen in the belly can ruin your dinner.

Hoes know this; fags know this too, I am sure.

I once knew a chick back in high school that swallowed so much cum at a house party that she needed her stomach pumped at the hospital. You could imagine that her folks were not impressed at all.

I was, though. True story.

Imagine getting to the hospital and having to tell the nurse why it is that you need your stomach pumped. Your first thought, as a doctor would be: poison.

Nope! It's jizz! Way....way...too much jizz.

Let's just say she had a hard time keeping food down the next day at school. Semen is a funny thing for women; it goes down harder than the dick you just put in your mouth, and can come up faster than it shot out...of that same dick.


With my new darkened skin, though, I felt a part of the group today at the pool; two oppressed people enjoying the struggles of the harsh Florida sunlight. A single mom and her kid; a zero-fucks author with a satirist's wit.

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