America 2009: Survival of the Underclass

The burly regent slammed his hands on the desk, stood up, stared into the eyes of the man in the beanie, and said in a deep voice, "Really!?"

"Yes, Regent." The man in the beanie nodded. "Several sources have confirmed that the white trash is wandering the slums wearing the same jacket he wore when he ran away."

"Good! Good! Good!" He nodded slightly in satisfaction, grinned, sat back in his office chair, and crossed his arms. "Finally, he's shown his true colors. This piece of trash who made me the laughingstock."

The man in the beanie stepped forward, took the metal cigarette case from the table, and lit a Canadian cigarette for him. After the man savored the first puff of smoke, the man said in a deep voice:

"Regent, but the homeless supply line ends here. After all, poor streets are MS13's territory, and the flash mob brothers don't dare to rip people off there."

He paused, then looked at the regent, whose expression hadn't changed, and continued, "The men under me want to go straight for Mad Dog, but regarding the quota..."

The Regent took a drag of his cigarette, leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and slowly exhaled: "How much?"

The man in the beanie's eyes lit up with delight, and he straightened up, saying, "4, for the Regent."

The regent abruptly opened his eyes, staring at the man in the beanie whose joy had vanished. "4 for a simple inquiry? Do you think I'm the king?"

The man in the beanie nodded calmly and said in a deep voice, "Regent, that's the going rate in Los Angeles. They're wealthy there, and the police department is full of white dogs. They don't lack money, and they look down on this kind of dirty work. Those who take the job have an insane appetite."

He swallowed hard, reached into his jacket pockets, and continued, "Besides... we're a Black gang. In the eyes of those white dogs, we're walking 'premiums.' If we don't double the price, they won't even bother asking."

The regent was silent for a few seconds, then stared into his eyes: "Inquire for a few more days. And... don't play dangerous games."

The man in the beanie's fingertips, tucked into his jacket pocket, trembled slightly. He immediately bowed his head and said, "Yes, Regent."

He called out to the man in the beanie who opened the door: "Where's the tear?"

The man in the beanie turned around, leaned against the doorframe, and lowered his head in silence for a few seconds: "He's a guy from the community. He wants to make it to the NBA. He's very talented, Regent."

He nodded slightly and stubbed out his cigarette: "How much?"

The man in the beanie glanced into his eyes, and his tightly taut face immediately relaxed: "3."

He pulled open the drawer in front of him, took out a key, and threw it at the man in the beanie: "Take the ten thousand that bribed the mad dog too."

"If he succeeds, he'll definitely buy you a Lamborghini, Regent." The man with the dreadlocks took the keys, nodded, and turned to leave.

He looked at the closed brown wooden door, a wistful smile on his face, leaned back in his chair, and said softly, "NBA, Lamb...Ginny, I hope you succeed, talented kid."

"God bless, I hope there's another car accident here so I can make another big buck. I'm not greedy, just two thousand dollars will do," Karen joked, looking up at the ticking traffic light.

He lifted the hand that was on her shoulder and pinched her chin. "Ms. Smith, you really have a dream. If we could meet every day, we'd be on the Forbes list in a year."

"Shut up, you coward! Don't you know it's incredibly rude to interrupt someone's sweet dream? Fuck!" She grabbed her hand, took a small bite, and turned to curse.

"My bad, let's go, get ready to move out, Corporal." He smiled and shook his head, put his arm around her shoulder, and walked across the street.

"Yes, sir."

The two crossed the road from the zebra crossing where the BMW and Mercedes-Benz accident occurred, and arrived at the small open space behind the bus stop where the donation box was located.

She lifted the tarpaulin covering the food box, a hint of joy flashing in her eyes: "Sir, it seems we're early. There's not much food, but these boxes of cereal and canned goods should be worth some money."

He bent down, picked up the canned beef from the wooden crate, and nodded with satisfaction. "Keestone's canned beef chunks are really good stuff. We'll keep them for ourselves."

"Christton!" Her eyes lit up as she snatched the can, looked down, and exclaimed excitedly, "Jesus! It's a 28-ounce can! No wonder this is a rich neighborhood! A can of this stuff costs over ten dollars!"

He picked up a box of cereal, shook it, and said, "The cereal is alright, it's from General Mills. This stuff sells for at least four dollars, and people fight over it."

"Indeed, it's food for children after all." She nodded in agreement.

"There are six cans of food and six servings of cereal, so it seems they were donated by the same person," he said, straightening up as he rummaged through the food box.

"Cool! What a good believer in God! I hope he can go to heaven tomorrow and enjoy himself forever." She nodded happily.

"You're quite a scumbag, Ms. Smith." He chuckled and shook his head, picked up the cleaning clips leaning against the food box, shook them, and said casually, "I'm going to get my clothes."

"OK, sir!"

Karen nodded, took out a plastic bag from her hoodie pocket, and began packing the contents of the food box.

He walked to the clothing donation box, pushed the lid open with his left hand, reached inside with the cleaning clip in his right hand, jumped onto the donation opening, supported his body with his abdomen, and began to work.

The sparse pedestrians in South Park in the morning were a little surprised to see their actions, but they were all well-dressed, white people wearing volunteer vests.

With a gun pointed at their heads, they couldn't believe the two men were doing something terrible.

……

With the baffle above his head, he gripped the clamp tightly with his right hand and slowly pulled upwards, while his left hand suddenly grabbed, and he succeeded!

As he handed out the clothes with his left hand, his right hand began working again.

"Jesus! Another new Uniqlo hoodie. Looks like this box is full of Uniqlo." Karen's happy voice came from behind.

"Cool! Thank you to the kind person who can go to heaven to enjoy himself tomorrow!" he replied as he pulled out his things.

"New Uniqlo jeans!"

"cool!"

"A new Uniqlo blue hoodie!"

"cool!"

The two became happier as they emptied their pockets. These rich people were really impressive when they donated things, coming in batches.

A moment later, he pulled out four hoodies and three pairs of jeans, all new Uniqlo items. Although they weren't expensive luxury clothing, each piece could easily sell for several tens of dollars.

"Beep—beep—"

"Sir, Mad Dog is here." Karen patted the police car on the back as it approached from a few dozen meters away, glanced at the clothes hidden behind the donation box, and said softly.

"Understood, Corporal," he replied softly, pausing what he was doing.

Karen smiled and quickly took off the white hoodie over her vest, draping it over her hand to reveal her sexy lingerie underneath.

The police car happened to stop in front of the bus stop, and the chubby policeman inside immediately lost his wariness when he saw the sweet Karen.

He smiled kindly and nodded in acknowledgment. After Karen returned the gesture, the police car started up again and drove off.

She watched the police car drive away, then immediately walked to Li Ang's side and whispered, "The mad dog is gone, sir."

"Well done, Corporal!" he shouted, his head still inside the donation box.

She put on the hoodie she had just taken off, patted Li Ang on the back, and said confidently, "Of course, sir, not only is my mother a stunning blonde with blue eyes, but she's also beautiful. In this country founded by white people, I'm born to have privileges."

"Corporal, although what you're saying is quite narcissistic, I have to say it's true. If you don't have privileges in a country established by your own race, then what's the point of establishing a country?" He handed over a piece of clothing with his left hand, teasingly.

"Cool! Another new Uniqlo hoodie." She took the clothes and said happily.

"Corporal, I think the black guys should also have special privileges, after all, they did a lot of work back then." He continued after Karen put away her clothes and came back.

"Thick lips have their privileges, sir," she said with a mischievous grin, her tone earnest.

"Hey! I just said that this morning!"

"I've gotten used to saying it, and I can't change it all at once, sir."

"Watch out!" He handed over the clothes in his hand—another pair of new Uniqlo jeans. When a cheerful Karen returned, he said, "Corporal, black guy, what privileges do you have?"

"Sir, all the guys bouncing the ball are Black. Isn't that a privilege?" she teased with a mischievous smile.

His eyes darted around, and he suddenly realized something. He stopped what he was doing, jumped out of the donation box, and said:

"Uh... if you calculate it that way—police brutality and feeding bullets,"

They tricked their Black friends into injecting them with syphilis, HIV, and sterilization drugs for experiments.

More than 10,000 missiles were fired at the Kochi Black community.

Government chemical labs poison slums across the country

Testing a nuclear bomb upwind of a slum to obtain human radiation data

Finally, they cut off education funding to specifically train modern primitive humans.

He paused for a moment and continued, "If these count as privileges, then indeed, no one has more privileges than the black guy."

"Hahaha! These aren't considered privileges? What country would spend hundreds of years and allocate a fixed percentage of its huge fiscal revenue each year to specifically cultivate modern primitive humans?" she replied with a loud laugh.

"Jesus! Christ! This joke is so Satanic! God, you really have to forgive me this time!"

"This is called getting to the root of the problem, okay!" She laughed and patted Li Ang's chest, then put on a serious face and said, "They were like this when they smuggled themselves in from Africa. We're just helping them find their 'homeland feeling' again."

"Weren't you captured? You're talking nonsense again!" He said jokingly, putting on a serious face.

"Hahaha! But the textbook says that Black people came illegally because they envied our lives! Is there something false in the textbook?" She couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"They definitely came smuggled in, Ms. Smith! After all, textbooks don't lie!"