My dad was a career Navy officer. In the mid-1980’s, when I was 11-1/2, we spent 32 months at Subic Bay. I was 14 when we left. Someday, I’m going to write a book about it – it will be the raunchiest “teen comedy” of all time. The stuff my older bro’ and I did was off-the-hook crazy.

Anyway, dad got a permanent station at Home Port Everett (WA), but had to do a stint teaching at Anni for one school-year when we got back to the U.S. It was temporary duty, so we had to live off-base. That was the only time that we ever lived in civilian housing (which was shit).

Our school district was about 80% nigger. Most of the niggers lived south of Baltimore in “projects”. These were hardcore urban knuckle-draggers and they all hated White boys like me and my brothers. I had never been around niggers like that before.

In the Philippines, I was always (by far) the biggest kid in class. At 14, in a Freshman class filled with 15 and 16 year-old niggers, that was not the case. I experienced bullying for the first time in my young life. The only reason they didn’t kill me was that I was good at sports and they were afraid of my older brother – in the first week of school he had kicked the shit out of two niggers that tried to take his lunch.

One of my main antagonists was a nigger named “Gold”. His last name was one of the presidents – I forget which one. Maybe it was Washington. I can’t remember – that was 30 years ago, …

Filthy nigger Gold was always spitting on me, pushing me in the hallways, kicking the back of my feet when I was walking, and calling me “honky faggot”. He was vicious even for a nigger. One time I was pissing at a urinal and he came up behind me and punched me in the back.

There were covered open-air bakketball courts with metal siding over the walls on the opposite ends. One day after school started, we had several days of extremely hot weather. Gold and a couple niggers in its posse pushed me up against the siding and pressed my arm against it. It burned like hell. I actually had blisters.

Every single day I was at that school, the niggers did something to torment me. It never ended. And usually it was nigger Gold doing it.

After Spring Break I began ticking off the days until we left. I hated that place more than I can possibly tell you. My brother got suspended THREE TIMES that year for fighting with niggers. I never told him (or anyone) about Gold because I knew he would get expelled.

Then one day, I came into my home-room class and noticed that the niggers were uncharacteristically subdued. A couple of the sows (all fat or pregnant) were crying. There was no sign of Gold.

Our teacher was at her desk shuffling papers. When the buzzer went off, she got up and said that she had some “sad news” for us. One of our classmates had been killed in a “tragic” accident.

Turns out that Gold had been out knuckling in the middle of the night and been hit by a panel van, LMMFLWAO! When I heard that, I don’t know how I didn’t bust out in joyous laughter. I’m sure I smiled.

Of course, the niggers banded together and demanded a “Day of Memorial” for poor dead Gold (any excuse to get out of skoo). They printed out posters with his photos (flashing gang signs of course) and put them up all over the school. My brother drew bananas and prison bars on them and the staff would take them down.

I was so happy to leave that nigger-infested shit-hole.