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Active weekend for parents, students & at Marla's.

Our little jaunt in time really shook things up. When we returned to the twenty-first century, we found it refreshingly different. And that's what this story is all about.

As I walked through the streets of Brockton after my last journey through time, I was amazed. I saw men and women walking the streets. And I saw that slavery was still very much legal. I saw a tall Black woman with a leash around her neck carrying groceries for a waifish red-haired woman right outside of Shaw's Supermarket. I also saw a burly white guy smoking a cigarette and chatting with his wife while his slave, a burly Black guy, filled his minivan with gasoline. I looked around and smiled. Wow. At last, the world was as it should be! Yeah! I felt so happy I actually jumped for joy. Then I went into a nearby auction house and bought myself a slave. Just because I could, you know. Ever heard of impulse buying? Women do it all the time. It's just that instead of buying shoes or accessories, I bought myself a slave.

I went to the auction house and bought myself a nice slave. A six-foot-tall, busty, heavyset and big-bottomed Black woman named Bernadine Bernavil. She had been bred in a slave pen in the state of Louisiana. This twenty-year-old Black female slave was well-bred and well-trained. So I paid the three hundred dollars and took her home. I couldn't wait to break her in. Although all slaves are broken in early in life, according to the owner's manual, a second and sometimes third session of breaking in is needed. Some of them are more stubborn than mules, apparently. That's why the auction house gave a new electrically charged prod to every new slave owner. I couldn't wait to try it on Bernadine.

When I looked Bernadine in the eye, she looked down. How different she was from the twenty-first century Black women I knew from my previously unchanged timeline. Gone was the sass and the loud mouth along with the daring, defiant eyes. Bernadine had a defeated look on her face. The look that a lifetime of slavery brings. I smiled, savoring that look. It's a look every white person in this changed timeline takes for granted because that's the world they've always known. I come from a radically different timeline. A timeline where Black people are free, and there are Black athletes, Black professionals, Black college students and Black politicians. Hell, there was even a Black president of the United States in my old timeline. Now things were changed. I intended to savor it.

I almost orgasm when I think of the wonderfully devious things I'm going to do to Bernadine. I remembered all the things loud-mouthed Black women did to me in my old timeline. When I was a high school senior, a Black chick named Shamika Brown stole my blonde-haired and green-eyed boyfriend Larry Vermont from me. Apparently, I wasn't sexy enough for him anymore. He caught a terminal case of jungle fever the first time he laid eyes on that busty and big-bottomed Black female basketball player. And so he ditched me. The same thing happened to me in college. I was going out with a tall, green-eyed and dark-haired Caucasian male named Anderson. He was captain of the football team. The guy all the gals on campus wanted. And I was his devoted girlfriend. One night I caught him in the arms of Tyrone, a gay Black man who was notorious for his flamboyance. Yeah, apparently Anderson was bisexual and didn't bother telling me. In grad school, I got kicked out of the program because I said something racially insensitive to a Black male professor in a moment of anger. Yeah, I was angry. And now you know why.

I could tell you about all the mean and sexy things I did to Bernadine, my tall Black female slave.

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