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An epic wigger battle

One time, back when I was working at White Castle, there was an epic ninja battle between some wiggers and some regular white kids.

There was this group of three wiggers (my bad about having to use such a term) kicking it in the parking lot next to a Monte Carlo or something. If I had to guess, I’d say they were 16 tops, but they could have been as young 13 or 14 and just driving illegally. The ring leader was a little bitty mofo – maybe 5 feet tall or 5’3″ tops – and there were these two fat kids. I was working the drive through that night, so I could see the whole thing.

Then these regular white kids rolled up in a Toyota Camry or something, and of course they couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of this gang of middle school-age wiggers posted up in a White Castle parking lot. Admittedly, the shit was pretty funny.

However, the little bitty one, i.e. the ringleader, didn’t take kindly to being laughed at by regular white people like that. Not to draw a connection between this and the Jena Six, but I’m sure it can be pretty tough at times being a wigger, if not quite as tough as being a black kid in a shithole like Jena, Louisiana.

Only problem was, like I said, this motherfucker was tiny, and he was easily the hardest member of his little crew. So he stepped to them with a whole lot of rah rah, the way I’m sure in his mind a real black person would, but then one of the regular white kids just knocked the shit out of him. So him and the rest of his crew hopped in the Monte Carlo and peeled the fuck out.

Having secured the White Castle parking lot for themselves, the group of regular white kids stuck around for a while and started working on their sandwiches and chuckling about the fact that they were just attacked by a gang of middle school-age wiggers.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the Monte Carlo peeled back into the parking lot like a Meatloaf-style bat out of hell. Before the two fat ones could even unbuckle their seat belts, the ringleader jumped out of the car with some sort of black stick, which he was holding like a baseball bat.

The regular white kid who knocked him the fuck out before approached him, as if he was about to hit him again, or perhaps take the stick from him and beat him with it. But then, right when it looked like something was about to happen, the ringleader pulled the cover off of this stick, revealing a samurai sword damn near as big as he was!

He struck the gulliest pose possible, like, What now, nigga! Pattonville up in this bitch! Fortunately, he didn’t actually have to use it. The group of regular white kids hopped in their Toyota Camry and peeled the fuck out. And unlike the gang of middle school-age wiggers, they opted to stay gone, at least for the evening.

Having rid the White Castle parking lot of regular white kids, the gang of middle school-age wiggers probably could’ve stuck around for a while if they wanted to. But they left again shortly thereafter, I guess feeling like they’d proven their point for the evening.

As far as this story is concerned, I’m not sure what the point is, other than: how dead can hip-hop be, really, if you’ve got gully-ass middle school-age wiggers rolling three deep in a Monte Carlo out here in the flyover states? Who knows, maybe one of them will grow up to be the next Eminem.

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