Everybody Loves A Little Black Beaver (Part 1)

[SickWaves Blackamura]

Part 1: Real family 

The prince’s thumb glides across the screen of his iPhone, delivering a series of left swipes for a most unappealing barrage of ugly and/or fat cunts. Between the rare discoveries of worthy screws for his fat, fat cock, Andre enjoyed mocking each and every one of these subpar broads in his mind. He didn’t feel too bad however, knowing that these same bitches were receiving right swipes from the likes of people like Fag Ridiculous or Charon the Fairy Man. The ones that just aren’t hot enough to get the long dick from a lightskin adonis simply had to deal with pity fucking the faggot who looks like the dad from every black sitcom and his junior neckbeard sidekick.

To some, it would be considered pretty fucked up to be browsing Tinder while being fellated by someone else already, but as a superior negro, Mr. Kunta felt it was completely necessary and justified to queue up his next cock suck. This particular girl of questionable legal age was one of those yappy sluts who was most excited to add a shot of famous nut to her Snapchat story. Andre smirked to himself, knowing that she’d most likely end up popping out a handful of future NBA players with fucked up names and impressive size when compared to their physically inferior white peers.

: I’ve...never been with a black gu-

He reaches down, pushing the annoying young woman’s mouth back onto his enlarged member as he answers the incoming facetime call.

Andre: Well if it isn’t Massah Seth! What is it this time? You callin’ to let me know you’re gonna sprint down for another fast count next Sunday to keep your valuable black talent oppressed?

Seth: Race had nothing to do with it!

Andre: Whatever. What you want?

Seth: That’s no way to talk to the boss of the company.

Andre: It is when you’re me, when you got out there and make the rating start to climb.

Seth: Listen, I’ve got Sunday’s card ready to go and I was calling to let you know what I’ve got planned for you.

Andre: Is it another “shot” at the #FartcoreChampionship that I already earned months ago?

Seth: No..

Andre: Well then you better have something pretty fucking dope planned for ya boy or I’ll show up just to shit all over your little pay per view.

Seth: I think you’re going to like this one.

Mr. Kunta flattens out his hand, smacking the young whore in the back of the head who of course feels nothing as a result of being under the influence of a collaboration of random drugs.

Andre: Watch the teeth, bitch!

The boss’s eyebrow rises up in confusion.

Seth: Excuse me?

Andre: Just gettin’ my knob polished. Your sister says hi.

Seth: You disrespectful littl-

Andre: I’m just playin’, bro.

Seth: Good..

Andre: Yeah, that was last week.

Massah Lerch shakes his head in disgust at the thought of having to spend future holidays with the black youth.

Seth: Do you want to hear the damn match or not?!

Andre: Yeah, shoot.

Seth: You’ll be teaming with Dustin Beaver.

#SeaBlack smiles at this bit of news.

Andre: Against?

Seth: Dag Riddik and Charon the Ferryman.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!! Seth gone and made ya boy laugh so hard that it took over the narration. #LOL

Seth: I don’t see what’s so funny.

Andre: Nothing..just make sure we got a couple of caskets at ringside.

Seth: I swear..

Andre: Later, breh.

The young lightskin hangs up the call, temporarily turning his attention back to the thirsty skank who continues her attempts at pleasing Mr. Black Royalty.

Andre: Ayy, that thing you be doin’ wit’ the tongue ring, that ain’t too bad though. I might just have to slide into them DMs again some time.

The gleam in her eyes is matched by blushing, genital stuffed cheeks as she deepthroats Andre to the best of her ability.

Andre: Dustin mothefuckin’ Beaver! What’s good, bro?

DB smiles at Andre, a bikini wearing blonde attached to his neck like a sucker fish, the two of them standing among a crowd of screaming college students.

Beaver: This shit is crazy, bro! You’re missing out right now!

Andre: Where you at, homie?

Beaver: I have no idea! I just woke up here!

Andre: I feel you on that.

Beaver: Bro, please tell me you heard about our match for Timebomb!

Andre: I already...wait..when did you find out about this?

Beaver: Seth called me like an hour ago.

Motherfucker..these faggots always trying to make sure the black man is last!

Andre: Shit had me in stitches a little bit ago. I hope they don’t actually think that they booked a close match.

Beaver: Same thing I thought, bro!

Andre: Holy fuck, it’s going to be an absolute massacre!

Beaver: People here have been laughing about it since news broke! Bleacher Report got ahold of it and #FuccboiMassacre has been trending on Twitter ever since!

Andre: Motherfuckers aren’t that stupid, they know what’s up. Team Black Beaver finna send these faggots straight to the ER.

Beaver: Team Black Beaver, I like that!

Prince Lighstkin pauses for a moment as he chuckles a bit more.

Beaver: I got some shit to drop on you.

Andre: Oh yeah?

Beaver: It’s sort of a surprise, but you know that I’m not playin’ when I say this could be a really dope opportunity, bruh. I think it would be good for not just the two of us, but for the #BeachKrew image overall.

Andre: In that case, you can for sure count me in. Just know, that I’m at a point right now where I probably won’t remember half of this conversation in an hour.

Beaver: Dope. Talk to you later, bruh.

Andre: Peace.

The young woman finishes up, savoring the last few drops of lightskin baby batter before swallowing it down and smiling up at Andre.

: Was that any good?

Andre: Yeah, sure.

: Do you maybe want to...return the favor?

Andre: Nah bruh, that shit nasty.

She hangs her head in shame, her own stupidity sinking in and ruining her already damaged self esteem.

Andre: I got places to be, hands to shake, money to make.

He rises from the couch, zipping up his pants as he heads for the front door of the unknown home.

Team Black Beaver gonna make this world our bitch..let’s get it.

Part 2: Black boy dreams 

Beaver: You good, man?

Andre: Yeah, man. This is all just a lot to take in.

Beaver: What? The north?

DB cracked a smile and chuckled a bit.

Andre: Hell no, bruh! I’m freezin’ my ass off up here! God damn! I’ll take a day in a place like Cali, Florida, or New Orleans over this cold shit, that’s for sure. Plus, all these bitches are forced to walk around in winter coats and shit. Damn shame, my dude. Mother nature sure is a fuckin’ cock block sometimes I’ll tell you what.

DB’s hands gripped at the wheel as he blew a bit of air out of both nostrils in a rhythmic, audible version of an “LOL”.

Beaver: What’s really up though?

Andre: It’s nothin’, bro.

Beaver: You sure? I mean, we’re #BeachKrew. This shit is family, REAL family. None of that fake shit that people like Dag, Morrigana, Charon, and Logan try to portray themselves to be. We’re about to go into a match where we prove exactly that and this feeling of family is something strong, man. It’s this cohesiveness that our squad has, these bonds that make us fucking indestructible.

Andre: Wow..

Beaver: What?

Andre: That...that was so touching. My pussy is dripping for you, Dustin! Take me now!

The inflection in Andre’s voice goes from a mocking, high pitched feminine one back to it’s normal state in a laughing tone as Beaver shakes his head at his asshole friend.

Beaver: You’re a clown, bro.

Andre: I know what you mean, but all of this, this shit is crazy to me, bruh. I mean, people have no idea what this is to a black kid. There’s a long fuckin’ road that people like me have to go down just to even get a taste of this. This, THIS shit.

His hand taps the dashboard of the Escalade, taking a moment to once again appreciate it for what it is.

Andre: This life is something that I’ve always been told I shouldn’t have, a life that I shouldn’t be allowed to experience, just because of skin color. Motherfuckers can keep on calling your boy out for bashing people, but it’s how this world functions. Nobody got anywhere by being fuckin’ nice all the time, bro. I’ve always wanted to live life to the fullest, to get to the top, you know? When I was younger, I always had this image in my head that getting to the top was something that I was going to do the noble way, that I could sit through my studies and simply get there through hard work just like every little white kid was told that they could do and you know, for them, that shit was easy.

Not for me though. Black boy dreams was bein’ shit on by just about everyone that I was around. It always seem like that progressive shit was overshadowed by the hood shit. Everyone think they know beef. Shit, there was a time where I would get shit stomped just for reading a god damn book. I’ve seen friends, cousins, uncles, and my own fucking brother get their brains blown out just for walking where people didn’t want them to, for fucking existing. It’s absolutely crazy in this life, my dude.

His fingers begins to tremble at the sound of his own explanation, emotion building up inside of him and showing through.

Andre: I remember one thing, one thing that really stood out to me, around the time I was like sixteen. There was this kid named Davonte. Real good guy. Motherfucker wasn’t the brightest, but he meant well. Took care of moms, went to Church every week, got good enough grades to be considered an honor student, all type of shit like that. Just like everyone else I knew at the time, Davonte and his family was broke as fuck. People was used to not havin’ much, so when they got something, it was real special. Let me ask you some shit real quick.

Beaver: Yeah?..

Andre: These J’s we rockin’ right now, how much did these cost?

Beaver: A few hundred a pair.

Andre: Right, and to us right now, that ain’t shit. Now to kids growing up around me, a pair of three hundred dollar shoes was a big fuckin’ deal. Well Davonte got some for his birthday. I remember they were pure white. The key word being “were”. You ever seen somebody murdered over shoes?

The inside of the vehicle goes completely silent before Andre continues.

Andre: Davonte was so fucking happy when he got those shoes. I remember I was happy for him too. A good kid getting a rare win, I liked to see that. Davonte didn’t last a whole day with those shoes on his feet. The bell rings and everyone’s outside. Three dark skinned dudes, their faces covered, but you could still feel the presence of scowls underneath. I’ll never get the sound of steel bats smacking against his skull out of my head, sounded like they were swinging at a flag pole. The first one dropped him and he was out of it. They didn’t let up for a second either, not until you could see visible dents smashed into the sides of his head. Those white shoes, they wasn’t white anymore and they wasn’t on his feet either. They didn’t get’em or nothin’, ended up takin’ off before anybody could say shit to them.

Those kids got caught later, few blocks down the road. It didn’t matter though. Everyone just stood there, the entire student body and a few teachers who came out after they heard the noise, everyone of us was just frozen in shock. I remember Davonte’s mom just screaming out, in disbelief over the fact that her boy was gone over a pair of shoes. After awhile, they got Davonte out of there and we all had to leave the scene, but there was a moment of serious soul searching that I did on my walk home that night.

I always wondered if I was doing what was best by trying to do shit morally correct. That night was the final straw for me. Before I was Andre Aquarius, I wasn’t just Andre Taylor, I was Davonte Thompson. I didn’t wanna die. I wasn’t gonna be the next dead black boy. I decided that Andre Taylor was gonna be a motherfucker who fought back and took what he wanted with brute force, because in my world, that’s the only option there is. Good kid ain’t a fuckin’ option and it never was. Getting to the top means taking out those who want to cripple or kill me, so that’s what I’m gonna do. Motherfuckers don’t have to agree with the way that I’m livin’ my life, but I’m doin’ this shit for the Davonte Thompson’s of the world. It don’t matter how, all that matters is that I’m in this bitch.

He exhales once more, smiling a bit as he smacks the dashboard in anticipation.

Andre: So where the fuck we goin’ to anyway?

DB hesitates a bit, taken back by everything his friend has just said.

Beaver: I know it might not sound like the best thing to do with your time here, but you know that thing I told you about earlier in the week?

Andre: Beavs..I swear to god, bro.

Beaver: Well...we got asked to go speak in front of some kids at a nearby elementary school.

Andre: Oh son of a bitch...this better not be lame..

Beaver: Trust me on this one, bro.

Andre shakes his head as the Escalade continues through the frosty streets.

Part 3: Fairy man gets #BeachBodied 

The sound of sick ass kazoo is heard from the back seat of Beaver’s escalade courtesy of little Brett Ambler as Andre and Beaver turn to each other with almost synchronized smirks from the front seats.

Beaver: So what you thinkin’ strategy wise? We’ve talked a bit, but I wanna pick your brain on this one, bro. What are you suggesting we need to pull out the victory for #BeachKrew this week?

Andre: I hope you aren’t worried about fucking ToT, man. You know damn well that their entire collective is already in shambles and it hasn’t even been a month yet. People try to tell you all the time that you need to take every challenge seriously and not to underestimate motherfuckers, but truth is, this is just one of those weeks where I know we have it in the bag.

Beaver: Well yeah, but..

Andre: Drop that “but..” part, breh. We got this and everybody knows it.

Beaver: You wanna cut a promo right now?

Andre: Just for the hell of it? I mean, I guess so.

Beaver: No, for the camera.

DB points next to Andre, showing him a small lens sticking out in the corner of the dash.

Andre: Beavs?

Beaver: Yeah?

Andre: Bro, the fuck you got a camera hidden in the dash for?

Beaver: Well you never know when something with a girl might come up and I like to have that so I can record it if it does.

Andre: ….that’s sketchy as fuck, but genius at the same time. Things like that are why Team Black Beaver is the shit, bro.

Beaver: Go for it, dude.

Andre leans back, running his fingers through his douchebag hair before smirking into the camera.

Andre: Oh, Fairy Man, I don’t believe we’ve really been properly introduced up to this point, have we? Now I know what you’re thinking right about now. You’re racking your brain trying to think about what exactly it is that you’re able to bring to the table in this situation and the answer is basically nothing. You know that Team Black Beaver got that juicy ass turkey ready to cut up and be made into the main dish for this feast while you Mr. Fairy Man, you’re one of those motherfuckers with a store bought container of potato salad. Shit, you ain’t even tryin’ to disguise it as legit either. You’re just walkin’ into the building with it still in the paper bag from the checkout lane. #LOL

I can smell the piss fillin’ up them drawers, boy. I know that you’re in that ToT locker room, talkin’ out some “mastery strategy”, that real Yahoo Answers level shit. It’s a shame that such an optimistic rookie such as yourself has Logan as your leader and source of advice. Fuck, way too insure that you get fuckin’ massacred right out of the gate, bro. Are you actually finna stand behind the guy who got bodied by BioWalker less than a year ago? I promise you, motherfucker, I fucking promise you that you’re losing this already and half of it has to do with that right there. I’ve noticed that you ain’t too vocal, are you? You just been standin’ next to irrelevant faggots this whole time, letting them do the talking for you, letting them verbally bury themselves as well as yourself by association, and finishing it all up with a smooch on the cheek and a little “I love you, daddy.” for good luck.

Ooh, you have to be sore just thinking about all of this and no, I’m not talkin’ about the little bumps you get on your face after letting Katherine SEAnix or Sarah Twilight drop a quarter in your butt and hop on for a mustache ride. You can’t tell me that ain’t part of the reason they got booted out of your pathetic ass team. Although, I guess nobody can really blame you for that. What purpose did they even serve a purpose in the first place? One’s a troll who inserts herself in the middle of shit for attention and the other is a forgettable world champion. What a fuckin’ standard you guys have. Those bitches was bound to fuck up everything from the get go and they did exactly that. Did that surprise you? Shit, I saw those TMZ leaks on “Family Drama” coming from a mile away, motherfucker.

Now you got a much bigger problem facing you. You’re honestly not the main target here, because I know that you aren’t shit to me, but you will get fucking crushed anyway just for the fact that you happen to be on a team with the biggest faggot of a stable mate you have in Fag Ridiculous. That bitch been flappin’ them gums ever since he arrived here and not even in the “Oh, Fag Pooper, you’re so funny!” type of way, but more in the “God this pathetic fucking neckbeard really needs to be slaughtered for thinking that he has any idea how this is gonna be” type of way.

Do I really need to give you a masterpiece level shit talking effort? No, not really. You haven’t won shit and you’re facing one of the greatest SeaV champions of all time as well as the goat when it comes to those #Fartcore and African American championships. You know what you are? You’re a fucking nothing on the #BeachKrew radar. All you are is a fill in jobber who’s gonna lace up for PPV so that I can fucking squash you before walkin’ up to Massah Seth and sayin’ “Alright faggot, I’ll take that championship match whenever you feel like givin’ me what I deserve.” You will be the Derek Moreno to my Jared Holmes after I embarrass you and send your ass to the unemployment line. Welcome to the deep blue, faggot.

DB flicks a switch, shutting off the camera as the Escalade disappears through an underpass.