Dear reader, below is the parable of the Prom Night White Girls, from The Liber Admiralis. Please read, understand, and discuss. This parable will be explained later for those that are unable to reap the lessons therein:
Tyrell attended an integrated high school and had friends of various races. Although he had numerous friends, he was never considered one of the popular kids. As he neared graduation, he had never known the flesh of a woman, unlike many of his contemporaries.
Most of the other Black kids at his school adhered to mainstream Black stereotypes. Tyrone, the star running back, scored touchdowns and had a few run-ins with some of the cheerleaders under the bleachers. It goes without saying that the hottest cheerleader, Stacy, only went with Chad the quarterback, but Tyrone preferred brunettes anyway.
Tyrell, on the other hand, preferred rock music and electronic gaming. PC master race, to be exact. His interests led him to spend much of his time with students of other races when the lunch bell rang. His exposure to other races also exposed him to the ladies thereof. No other young lady drew his attention more than Rachel, a pretty White girl with reddish-brown hair and blue eyes.
Tyrell studied Rachel. He had an idea of the type of guy that she liked. To mold himself into the ideal man, he went to the gym, read philosophical books, and invested time learning how to speak English as White people do. He even invested in “No More Ebonics” courses on Udemy.
Prom night approaches…
After weeks of hard work, Tyrell was ready. He took the chance to ask Rachel to go with him. Rachel hinted that she may be interested but made it known that Tyrell had to pass her tests. He had to fix her computer, drive her and her friends to Starbucks, and complete various other tasks. There was even something about getting in a robot. Talk about “Shinji-coon”, am I right?
As a final test, Tyrell had to listen to country music at full blast, including choice selections from Johnny Rebel, while Rachel stomped on his testicles in high heels and called him the N-word. Tyrell had to withstand the pain, deny that it was happening, and thank Rachel for the privilege. Through all of this, Tyrell’s desire to share just one dance with Rachel helped him to bear the pain. She would soon be in his arms, and if he was lucky, he would get a goodnight kiss from his fire-haired goddess.
The day of the prom came, and Rachel told Tyrell that she would never be with a nasty Negro of his caliber. Distraught, Tyrell went to his locker and hung his head in shame. He heard scuffling behind him, and a voice whispering “I will go to prom with you. I like Black men.”
He turned around to see Dorothy.
Enter the landwhale…
Dorothy was what is colloquially known as a mudshark. Her pink flesh oozed from beneath her halter top and hung over her waistline, nearly to her knees. Her face was pocked with acne, and she smelled of tuna that had been left out in the sun for days. She was the textbook definition of grotesque. A Mark 82: 500 pounds and dumb. Yes, she was the archetypal mudshark.
Being the avid reader of General Quarters that he was, Tyrell was well-versed in the General Orders of Mating Operations. He recited the First General Order, “No Fatties, No Fuglies, No Faggots,” and walked away, leaving Dorothy the grotesque hambeast to be scooped up by common Negro Shawntavious.
“Shheeeit,” exclaimed Shawntavious, “Tyrell always be thinkin’ he be too good fo’ us. He don’t know what he be missin’. I gots me a White girl now! SYSBM! Us real Black men love a big woman!”
Was it all for naught?
That night, Tyrell did not go to the prom. He contemplated staying home to jack off and play video games but went to the gym instead. He graduated from high school having never enjoyed the company of a woman, but he had improved himself.
Simping for Rachel did not pay off, but he avoided the mark of shame by rejecting the bovine Dorothy. The lessons of self-improvement and discipline stuck with him, and while he enjoyed the company of his right hand on many a night, he did eventually come to enjoy that of Reiko, Rochelle, Rebecca, and Rosita.
Dear listener, please leave a comment if you think that you get the message of this parable. Until next time, Admiral Man, out.