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    Black Barbara
    Black Barbara
    Black Barbara
    Ebook73 pages1 hour

    Black Barbara

    By Ashley Bradley

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    About this ebook

    Barbara, white, has wanted to be a black woman ever since she was a child. She discovers a new procedure that will allow her to transform into the beautiful African Queen she has always dreamed of being. Only thing is, maybe it causes leprosy? 

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAshley Bradley
    Release dateApr 17, 2017
    ISBN9781386678366
    Black Barbara

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      Book preview

      Black Barbara - Ashley Bradley

      Black Barbara

      Ashley Bradley

      Barbara tried to pass herself off as mixed on Instagram. HalfBreedHoe is what she called herself on there. She got a lot of attention from guys, and they often reached out to her for dates. Seeing as Barbara lived in Florida, they'd often ask her to go to the beach with them. That's where everything would fall apart. Barbara, sweaty and beet-red, would be smiling at her date, asking if maybe they'd like to go for a snow cone. Nah, her date would usually be like, I forgot I had an emergency. My daughter is sick. She has Legionnaires' disease. The first time this happened, Barbara felt ill with worry, praying this man's poor daughter would be alright. But after the twenty-fifth time of a dude saying the exact same thing to her, Barbara felt something had to be up. Did all these black men have daughters with Legionnaires' disease? It did not seem plausible. Though Barbara had no idea what Legionnaires' even was, she felt very strongly it was likely a white person's disease. These men were clearly fibbing.

      It was Barbara's friend Susan who let her know the tea.

      They can tell you aint a mulatto. Ya period blood face be out there telling on yo azz.

      Susan was Barbara's best friend because she, too, wished to be black. The friends Barbara had before Susan never understood her desire to be a black woman, solidly in the mind frame that white women were superior, and that black women took care of their kids and rung up their purchases at Payless when they were feeling frugal. Why would anyone want to be Wanda from Pathmark? was their thinking. But Barbara felt her friends were dummies, and regressive. They shopped at Ann Taylor Loft and all had asymmetrical haircuts. Barbara never fit into that aesthetic, with her frizzy ethnic hair and suspiciously hefty lower body. One of Barbara's ex-friends Karen had once described Barbara's body type as Depressed Stay-At-Home Mom. Karen just didn't get it, Barbara thought. If I were black, everyone in the ~community~ would covet my good hair and CURVY, pear shape.

      Meeting Susan, another fat, bad-haired white bitch, was a breath of fresh air. They met at their job in a nondescript office building, where they sold a product called Shit Smell B-Gone over the phone. They had never actually seen the product they were told to be selling, but that didn't seem to be important as much as bullying people out of their credit card information and ignoring their questions about what the product was, and whether or not it caused blindness. They'd heard it did?

      Susan didn't have frizzy hair like Barbara. She practically had no hair at all. It was just a collection of blonde strings placed with seemingly no discernment or order about her scalp, which was covered in psoriasis scales. Susan had unnaturally big lips, though, which she proudly called her black dick suckers. She also had, and this description would be debatable, even by lump-loving black men, a fairly curvaceous physique. Absolutely zero of her white brethren would refer to Susan's nearly four hundred pound frame as curvaceous, but nearly every nigga named Tyrone or Lamont whom Susan fucked, had.

      Barbara and Susan became best friends when they were sat in the break room at work one day, and a conversation broke out concerning which race was the most attractive. Their office is fairly diverse, so the answers were all over the place. But the majority vote ended up being: whites. The European aesthetic was, ultimately, best. Barbara and Susan vehemently disagreed, both speaking up at once to shout the final vote down. How could you say whites were the most attractive when Ving Rhames and CCH Pounder exist?!

      Who? was the majority consensus.

      The only other person in the office who knew who either of those people were, decided to comment that he couldn't believe a nigga named Ving actually existed, stating that he felt it was a porn star's name, and one who participated in a specific genre called Vampire Wrestling Porn. Did that actually exist, several people asked. And then the office changed from discussing which race was more beautiful, to all huddling around Jerome's phone while he searched up if vampire wrestling porn was a legitimate existing thing.

      Barbara and Susan declined to join the group, instead choosing a more secluded table in the break room to begin their beautiful friendship. Susan told Barbara all about her childhood growing up in da hood. How she always felt she was black, and likened it to the struggle trans people go through. Like how them two dick bitches be wondering if theys a man or woman. Barbara went like mmm in her head, but didn't say it out loud, for fear she'd drive away her new best friend forever. It was fine if Susan said some questionable ass shit, just as long as she and Barbara were *here* on the most important thing, which was both of them wishing to be of the negroid persuasion.

      Barbara shared with Susan how she'd grown up as a lonely child in the suburbs, her only friend and companion being the television set, where she'd watch things like Cousin Skeeter and Hangin' with Mr. Cooper and felt she related to the strange animals on those shows, more so than her own people.

      That's fucked up, Susan had said, chewing on a whole string cheese.

      What is? Barbara had asked, tears in her eyes, reminiscing about her sad and lonely childhood.

      You was friends wit' a tee-vee? What sorta creepy shit is that?

      Barbara felt sick, thinking she had disturbed her new friend, and now she'd have to go be friends with that old Indian woman who sat in the cubicle next to her, and crunched loudly on Fritos all day. Barbara would be fine if they were Cheetos maybe, or some Funyuns, but Fritos were so unnecessarily noisy. So crunchy; too crunchy, really. Nothing should be that crunchy. It was obscene.

      You hugged it and all that? Susan asked, afraid.

      ...Did I hug the TV?

      Susan, working on another string cheese, nodded. She looked sick and like she'd seen something unseeable. Like someone shitting in reverse.

      Barbara decided she needed to lie. No! Hug the TV?! She made like a mechanical haha noise. "That's

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