We spent hours,
Days, even weeks
Preparing it.
The highlight of
Our little war.

You’ll never truly
Understand
The amount of effort
Everyone put into
That night.

You knew it was coming.
You had to know,
How could you not?
Everyone whispering
Behind your back

Finally,
Halloween came,
The decided date.
You still had no clue
What was going to happen.

You should have seen me,
Standing in line at Aldi’s
Dressed as a purple fairy,
Holding thirty-two rolls
Of shrink wrap.

After my eight hour shift,
The real fun began.
Three of us,
Dressed as fairies,
Running around your truck.

Sadly,
You didn’t see it.
Security intervened.
Which is probably a good thing,
I didn’t want to see
How you would top that.

Dirty jobs abound but who will do them? Who will?
Not the women in their lacy white dresses dancing
Not the men in their tuxedo jackets and $9 cigars
Not the couples strolling quietly through the jonquils.

Who will take the dirty jobs? The spics. The niggers.
Disenfranchisement has it’s benefits. “They’re already dirty”
Mutter the pale Utopians. “They’re filth to start with.”
We demonize them but need them and hate them
All at the same time. Spics. Niggers. Dirty fuckers.

Who will do these dirty jobs for us? Who will clean
Our shit-stained toilets? Who will shrink-wrap our
Sandwiches stuffed with the bloody flesh? Who will tend our
Screaming, abhorrent spawn in their bleating neediness
Demanding immediate gratification for their every whim.

What will we do? What will we do? What will we do?
Clean our own shit? Cut our own meat? Tend our own spawn?
Certainly not. Not while we have the spics and niggers here
To do it for us, to take care of us, to tend to our needs, to
Loathe, despise, ridicule and hate. Yes, they’ll do nicely.

I’m going with the shrink-wrap.

Where’d I put that box?