By now George Kenneth had gotten used to the changes at his employer’s warehouse. Vast spaces
By now George Kenneth had gotten used to the changes at his employer’s warehouse. Vast spaces that once housed cheap plastic crap from China is now lined with orderly stacks of cages filled with caucs destined for tropical Caribbean or African ports. These are mostly so-called Grade C stock that can’t sell competitively in the country so they’re being exported for a lesser profit in the developing markets.When George Kenneth walks by these cages he peers in smugly at the unimpressive livestock. Where most Blacks now see low-quality farm labor, G.K. sees the former bondsmen, landlords, parole officers, government bureaucrats, and store clerks who all once pressed their white thumbs on the scale against him. None of these crackers will know that kind of power, or any power, again. He knows Grade C stock like this will be worked to death in some shit job, in Africa, until they break down and get converted to fertilizer.Sometimes he’ll let one of the animals out of its cage to stretch his limbs by crawling over to tongue polish his shoes or bend over for a quick fuck. However, those have become less common ever since his employer gave him his holiday bonus in the form of full-lipped blond to keep his house clean and his bed warm. After all, a happy employee is a good employee!Before he retires for the afternoon, G.K. stopped by the company guard honkey, Brutus. The mean-looking mountain of a white was in the middle of patrolling a section of caged caucs threateningly staring down any possible troublemakers wearing nothing but a spiked collar. As soon as he saw G.K., the muscle beast quickly dropped to his knees and made a big honkey smile. “Good Afternoon, Massa. All is well on this floor, Sir.”“Good boy” G.K. replied with a dismissive pat to the honkey enforcer’s buzzed head. “I’m off. See that it stays that way or I’ll take the whip to your worthless white hide.” -- source link
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