An oppression of white men approached me the other day. I could see the lust in their eyes. Lust for mayo, lust for food devoid of spiciness or flavor, lust for harming those weaker than them. The front male of the pack, the “Alpha” as I’m sure he’d describe himself to his red pill buddies, began to speak to me.
"Hey, I’ll have myself a…"
Of course, they always wanted something. The oppression mounted as the leader barked out a list of his commands, his associates gently nodding their masculine approval.
"…And a number 5 for Ben here, hold the onions please, he’s got an allergy-"
Standing there, my apron swaying, in front of all that patriarchal force, I fucking lost it. I stood tall, looked him dead in his blue eyes, and let him know what’s going on in this world.
"STEP OFF WHITE MAN I WON’T BE YOUR UNCLE TOM."
My chest heaved. The white males stared at me, shocked to not have what they desire. The alpha called for a manager.
"Do not oppress me. Do not oppress me." I said, righteous hysteria rising in my tone. A tear was shed from my eye as I considered all the evil whitey had done to the world.
My cis male manager came near, lording his privilege above me.
The words of the Alpha pierced my ears.
"Hey, is she alright? We were ordering and she started yelling at us. She’s crying."
I could feel my chest bulges being ogled. I stood yelling at their privilege when my Patriarch told me I was fired. That’s when I heard it. His laughter. It rung through the establishment, accompanied by those terrible snorts. Urkel mocked me at my lowest hour. Agents went in for a kino as I was led from the doors, shouting things i don’t quite remember.
They were so lucky I was feeling feminine that day. Mah bruthas.