Black Friend

I have the blackest black friend. Compton black. Real life black guy black. Not only in spirit, but in color. A super black black; ultra black—black to the fourth power. If the blackest black fell into a paint of blacker-black and then had a baby with motherfucking-black, he would be blacker than that black baby who was very, very black. How black is he? He not only coaches a basketball team but also plays semi-pro football. A linebacker, so not only extra black in that respect, he is also enormous. His head is pumpkin-sized. His shoulders mock my face. His hands gang rape my hands. He even has a great black guy name. He is so black that I might be his only white friend. In fact, I just scanned all of his Facebook friends, and yes, I am the one white face. I am his ‘token’. My black friend likes me very much. So much that he calls me long distance. Incurs roaming fees. When he calls he talks for a long time until he needs to go to practice and then he hangs up. When we go out to dinner, he buys me shots of Patron. If I put my black friend up against your black friend, mine would win, hands down, thus proving I am not a racist.