Congratulations Stealthy Racist!

You’re a racist. But unlike average, run of the mill racists you’re not loud or obnoxious. You’re actually quite subtly in the manner in which you apply your racism.

You like to come up behind people you see in the street and whisper racist things into their ears. It’s surprisingly effective. You’ve managed, by whispering it to her in an elevator before a meeting, to get Senator Hilary Clinton to call someone a fucking Jew bastard. You’ve managed to cause an untold number of otherwise reasonable people to refer to their baristas as nigger and you once made a grandmother call Mexicans “God’s trash.” Nothing to be proud of, really, but your aptitude for remaining unnoticed has managed to keep any of it from sticking to your name.

But today you’re going to get something that will retain your name. And mark and elevate you for the rest of your life. Today you’re going to meet your wife.

She’ll be there in front of you, a pretty young woman in an elevator in an office building where you’re delivering flowers. She’ll be dressed in a lady’s suit with her legs exposed, showing an impressive set of dragon tattoos accented with budding flowers twining up her shins and on to her thighs. You’ll wonder, for a moment, if they carry on all the way up to her waist, perhaps eventually terminating at her pubis. With these thoughts you’ll be filled with a sudden and uncontrollable desire to corrupt this young woman.

But unlike most men, who manifest this lascivious desire in the form of sexual attraction, you’ll just want to make her say really racist shit. So you’ll creep up behind her and whisper in her ear.

“Jews are dirty.”

She won’t respond. Not like, she’ll hear and ignore you. She just won’t respond at all. She’ll be staring forward, oblivious to your presence. She’ll either be a fantastic actress or she’ll be stilling her ears somehow, keeping your words from reaching them. You won’t see any headphones in there, so you’ll assume she’s a great actress. Not willing to be outdone, especially by this woman of all women, for reasons you cannot fully articulate, you’ll tap her on her shoulder and force her around.

“Jews are dirty,” you’ll tell her again in a deadpan voice. She’ll stare at you for a moment like you’re insane, and then her hands will begin moving.

“Wha?” she’ll mumble, as if her tongue doesn’t quite understand how to form the words. “Why would you sah thah?” she’ll muse, as her hands dance beneath her face.

You’ll be taken aback. No one will have ever asked you why you sew racism against literally every social group ever dictated before, and you won’t have ever really considered it at length. Standing there, facing her, you’ll just have to shrug.

“I guess I just do.”

“Stah,” she’ll say, making an emphatic sign with her palm.

Her request, its even tone and brevity, will captivate you. You’ll want to indulge her, but you won’t feel you know how off-hand. You’ll feel racism’s sweet tug pulling you away and realize that the moment you leave this strange, wonderful woman you’ll go back to being a big old stealthy racist. So you’ll hold up your finger to signal a request and form your words carefully, shaping your mouth more than speaking.

“One condition. Get a drink with me tonight?”

Congratulations Stealthy Racist!