Trope Tripe

In true Woke tradition, a trigger warning is appropriate for this piece.

Trigger Warning

The following material contains words that will be extremely offensive to some, involving homophobia, transphobia, fat shaming, racial stereotyping, body dysmorphia, disablement, implied sexual practices, cultural appropriation and paedophilia by association. If any of the above are likely to infringe upon your personal liberties, rights and sensitivities when reading them … grow up for Christ’s sake! To the rest of us it’s just good old fashioned fun. Nobody dies. God Almighty!

Jasmina dragged her heavy dungareed frame over to the window to check out the commotion going on below. “Yayy!” she drawled in her thick southern accent, scratching at her most recent piercing, “they’s at it agin, sister. You Britishers sure know how to party.”

“What’s that, babes?” her non-binary companion called from the bathroom in a voice alternating between a forced falsetto and deep basso profundo: a quite disturbing experience in so short an utterance.

“Why they’s tippin’ slave trader statues in the river agin. I mean, I’d take the knee an’ all in support but if’n I git down I aint nivver goin’ to git up agin. It ain’t easy bein’ a fat, black, one legged lesbian even in these enlightened times y’all.”

There was a gasp of outrage from the bathroom. “You shouldn’t be putting yourself down like that, babes.”

“An’ why not? I’se entitled if anybody is. Ain’t nobody blacker’n me this side of the ocean an’ I’se black, sister.” She stumped over to the bed, and eased off her dungarees and prosthetic. “An’ I got the disabled credentials to go with it. I’se the o-riginal po-litically co-rrect trope. I was woke afore woke was a word. Woke could adopt me as a mascot. I don’t need no Meghan Markle tellin’ me what woke is. That half-black chancer got no need to go bouncin’ coco nuts off’n mah haid.”

Her companion flounced out of the bathroom brushing water from their hair – and then put it on their head, teasing the tresses into fetching bangles. “We thought we’d try the Shirley Temple look tonight,” they said, dropping a quick curtsey.

“Makes no never mind to me just so’s you stick to munchin’ muffin an’ don’t come near me with that doughnut dibber you’re sportin’ at the moment.”

“Babes, that’s not very inclusive!” they said, reproachfully “We can’t help the way we’re built. It’s what’s inside and the way we identify that’s important.”

“An’ tonight we identify as an 8 year old ingenue, and under age an’ all? Even in Georgia? You fantasisin’ ‘bout makin’ a pe-do-phile outta me as well as crossin’ the boundaries of the Sapphic Circle? You can keep the dress on though. It’s kinda cute.”

Shirley Temple simpered and twirled around coquettishly, although the hair didn’t. Clawing at the wig obstructing their face the ersatz Shirley spluttered a baritone profanity that would never have passed the sugar sweet lips of their appropriated owner. The cussing was suddenly choked off as vision was restored and Jasmina was revealed in all her black beauty, sprawled naked on the bed.

“You want the leg on or off?” she asked, matter-of-factly, hunching up on the mattress and setting a tide of adipose tissue surging seductively along her body to break alluringly on the vastness of her island breasts and ripple softly back down to the hidden coves and crevices of her

lower body. “I only ask because some like it, some don’t and seeing as I don’t rightly know which one of you I’se addressin’ at the moment, it’s just as well to know.”

Shirley goggled wide eyed at the spectacle laid out before them. “Oh, we’re well and truly paddling on the shores of Lesbos tonight, babes,” they drooled, falling to their knees at the foot of the bed.

“Well, good. Just make sure that pig sticker of y’all stays buried in the sand. Otherwise I could save y’all the cost of the operation. Anyways just so’s I know, what am I callin’ you tonight? It better not be Cyril again.”

“No, Let’s stick with Shirley,” came the muffled response.

“Good. I can live with that. Now, transport me somewhere over the rainbow – or is that some other dumb white under age chick cavortin’ with a guy in a tin suit, a lily livered lion and a pansy scarecrow an’ all? Still, you cain’t get more inclusive than that, I guess. Set to munchin’ Shirley. All’s right with my woke world.”