As close to an honest story as I'm capable of. #flashfiction #shortstory https://t.co/wlp2YyEJw3 https://t.co/blT4yyxljz (2 days ago)

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Apr
10

Soul Man II… starring Nap Lapkin

You know what movie you never see on HBO or Cinemax?

The movie Soul Man, starring A-listers C. Thomas Howell, James Earl Jones, Leslie Neilson and Julia Louis-Dryfus. Released in 1986 it opened at #3 behind Crocodile Dundee and The Color of Money and went on to gross $27.8 million domestically. A box office success however you measure it.

So why isn’t it aired anymore?

Because it’s about a white man who takes tanning pills in order to pretend to be black and qualify for a black-only scholarship at Harvard Law School. Given the PC climate Hollywood wants to just forget about any of their past attempt at making fun of racial stereotypes. Waaaay too risky. Only an idiot would write something with that premise these days.

Why do I mention this?

Because the next Nap Lapkin adventure is about a white man who takes tanning pills in order to pretend to be black and infiltrate the Philadelphia branch of the New Black Panther Party.

I just thought I’d warn you now.

(Hollywood will not be contacting me for the rights to this story)

 

“How have I never seen this before?’ asked Nap Lapkin as he watched video after video of black racist King Samir Shabazz and his New Black Panther Party cohorts blocking the entrance to a Philadelphia polling station and intimidating white voters in 2008. “Jerry Jackson, the big dumb-looking one keeps doing it every election.”

This was not sitting well with Nap.

The problem, as anyone who knows or knows of Nap Lapkin will tell you, when he is well out of earshot, is that when things don’t sit well with Nap Lapkin all sorts of chaos tends to follow. While he is officially an employee of the U.S. government, most of the time he decides what missions he will take on. Things that don’t sit well with him typically jump to the top of his To-Do list.

If you are one of the few remaining Americans unfamiliar with Nap Lapkin, let’s just say he is our premier secret agent. Not an easy task when only a few Americans are not familiar with you. He might be the only secret agent that is independently wealthy off of endorsement deals.

How does he pull that off?

Companies simply use his name to promote their products. A quick quote from him is all they need. Sometimes they will even use a black outline of him, like when they interview informants on TV and have them sitting in the dark, in the advertisement. Guns. Body Armor. Cologne. He pitches it all.

How do people know that he has really given his endorsement to a product and the company isn’t just using his name?

Because anyone who knows him or knows of him knows that if he ever found out that some company was doing that he would kill everyone involved.

I mean everyone.

The PR firm. The cameramen. All of the board members of that company and their subsidiaries. Anyone who made a dime off of his name.

I just wanted to give you an idea of the type of man we’re dealing with here so that you’ll understand that when this man marches into the Research and Development Division of the CIA’s Science, Technology and Weapons Department asking for tanning pills that will allow him to go undercover at the Philadelphia branch of the New Black Panther Party you’d better believe that he marches right the fuck out with those very same tanning pills. Even as we speak there are teams of scientists working on bizarre things just to try to be ready for his next request.

“Should we start the paperwork?” asks one of the senior agents.

“Why would we do that?” answers the man standing next to him.

“Didn’t you hear him? He’s going to start an undercover operation. Shouldn’t we notify someone?”

“An operation? Nap Lapkin? His ‘operation’ will last about an hour. Tops. Do you really want to be associated with an operation that has anything to do with turning a white man into a black man?” Just saying it out loud seems to pain him greatly.

The other agent thinks about it for a few moments. “True. Look what it did to C. Thomas Howell’s career.”

 

As the black version of Nap was being shown around the New Black Panthers facility his guide was getting a bit uncomfortable by some of his comments. While this new member seemed at first to be an ideal candidate, spouting “kill the crackers” at all the right times, there was something off about him. The more time they spent together, the more the man in charge of membership was worried that perhaps this potential pledge wasn’t a good fit.

What brotha had never heard of Lil Wayne?

Finally it was time to introduce Cleophus “Whiteshoes” Sweetwater, Nap’s alter-ego for the day, to the team. (Please note that picking his undercover name is usually Nap’s favorite part of the mission. The worst part? When those he interacts with don’t ask him enough details about the elaborate background story he’s created. All of Whiteshoes’ nine children would agree wholeheartedly.) The agent who had predicted a Nap meltdown within an hour would have been very proud. It had almost been two full hours.

Almost.

Nap stood up to address the room full of Panthers.

“I have to ask… why do you guys wear the paramilitary outfits? Is it to try and give the appearance of being organized?” he began. All around him were confused faces. “Let’s be honest gents, none of you would last ten minutes in the real military.” More confused faces…. mostly because he called them gents.

Nap looked at one of the members who had a night stick hanging from his belt. “Do you even know how to use that? Have you been trained in its use? I’m guessing that’s a big no.”

At this point things were beginning to get a bit tense. He clapped his hands together loudly to make sure he had everyone’s full attention.

“So is the plan to harass voters again in November?” He looked around the room to see if anyone would offer up an answer.

“Why don’t you get the fuck out of here?” was the best anyone could do. Nap smiled broadly, sporting his best “Why don’t you make me?” face.

“You’d better leave before we bust you up” someone else added.

“Listen, there isn’t a one of you that knows how to fight. You are the biggest collection of wanna-be pussies I’ve ever come across. Sitting here in your bad rent-a-cop outfits, thinking you’re all bad-ass when the truth is…”

It’s at this point that someone attempted to shut Nap up. It did not go well and illustrated the problems associated with trying to move forward when someone has kicked your knee in such a way as to make it go sideways. The man collapsed in a burst of screaming, profanity and yelping. I sincerely believe that there is a significant enough difference between screaming and yelping to include both of them in my description.

In order to make it entertaining Nap had made a secret promise to himself to disable everyone in the room only with kicks to the knee. It made it a bit more challenging but soon the room was littered with men writhing in agony and holding their ruined knees. For years afterwards people would know who was a New Black Panther by their telltale limp.

“Please tell that sad little sack of shit King Samir Shabazz that if I see him anywhere near a voting booth I will personally ram his billy club up his ignorant ass.”

Suddenly a man dressed even more comically than his pals turned the corner holding a pistol.

“Oh please, please tell me that you’re introducing firearms into this scenario” said Nap with undisguised joy.

The man spat out a few threatening comments, more like clichés from a bad gangsta rap song, and moved forward. Again with the moving forward. Either fire the weapon or put it down, a simple rule really when dealing with super agents.

Everyone who was there later agreed that Nap’s roundhouse kick was in slow motion. A big arcing kick that seemed to take forever to reach its intended target’s face and when it did that 220 pound target spun 360 degrees in the air. Also in impossibly slow motion. I am not exaggerating. If you were to take statements from everyone in attendance they would agree to a man that the entire kick and the subsequent man spinning wildly in the air and landing on a nearby table all happened in slow motion and in complete silence. It was only when he landed that the sound returned.

It was a thing of beauty to behold. Grown men wept… and not just because of their throbbing knees.

Nap walked over and picked up the gun.

“You guys are a joke. A bad SNL skit. The only thing this divided country, black, white, red, yellow, whatever, can all agree on is that you are a bunch of clowns. Clowns! Don’t make me come back here.”

With that Nap turned and made his way out of the building and out of the city and back to his humble abode near Quantico, VA.

 

(Don’t you love a happy ending? I realize that some might say that the violence was a tad gratuitous, but can you think of a better group to be on the receiving end of an ass-whuppin’ than the bullies and dimwits who make up the New Black Panther Party?)

(I didn’t think so.)

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