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Why I Don’t Call the Police

16 Nov

As many of you know, black people not calling the police is a tradition that goes back a long time. Black people that call the police tend to get beaten by either the police, or by Tookie and RayRay and them. When the police get called in the hood, one way or another, somebody getting their ass beat. On top of that, everybody knows the police are racist, and probably won’t listen to shit a nigger got to say anyway.

Crackers like to write off stories of black people getting ignored by the police when they are clearly the victims of a heinous crime as the black people probably deserved to be ignored. Well, this is one such story. Once you read it, you will have no other choice but to be convinced that black people ain’t got no business calling the police.

A while back, I had put my garbage cans out by the curb to be collected like I routinely do every now and then. It was a normal day. The sun was shining, the sirens were wailing, the helicopters were flying, and you only heard the odd gunshot every now and then. There was nothing to suggest that I would be the victim of a crime during the night.

When I woke up the next afternoon, I went out to bring my garbage cans back to the house. The only problem was my cans had been stolen. They were probably stolen by some honkey as an initiation into the Ku Klux Klan or something. I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I called the police.

After an hour passed, a police officer finally showed up at my door. Can you believe that racist cracker? I mean he pulled his black and white car right in front of my house. I told him under my breath that I had a crime to report, but I did not want my neighbors to know. He pulled his car down the street a ways.

Using the mailboxes as cover, I snuck to where the pig was now. I informed him that my garbage cans had been stolen. He asked how I knew they had been stolen. I told him that I had put them out for my garbage to be picked up, and when I came back to get them, they were gone. Then that racist son of a bitch had the nerve to suggest that I hadn’t paid my garbage bill. That asshole told me to call the garbage company, and if they had not picked up the garbage cans due to non-payment, he would come back and take a report. I tried to protest, but he just drove off.

I was so angry, and appalled at the boldness of this institutional racism. To suggest that just because I am black I don’t pay my bills. I was pissed, but all I could do was storm back to my house.

It was about this time that Tookie and RayRay and them who had been sitting on the curb across the street, approached me. They were pissed that the police had come into the hood, and dorve off their customers. They asked if I had called the police. I said the only thing any sane person could. I told them hell no I didn’t call no racist ass cracker pigs. I told them that the pig had the wrong address when he had stopped at my house, and he said he was looking for old Miss Johnson down the street. That seemed to satisfy them, and they returned to lawn chairs near the curb across the street.

Then, about two in the morning, somebody pulled a drive-by on poor old Miss Johnson. Well, there wasn’t no way I was calling those racist ass pigs back.

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Posted by on November 16, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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