Kris Akabousi sat in the lobby of a Liverpool nightclub, drenched in beer. Hit with the ever familiar feelings of shame and self pity Kris thought enough was enough – he couldn’t rely on celebrity cameos for the rest of his life. It was time to move on.
5 years later and Kris is enjoying life once more. He put his spade down, casually tossed his cap upon his head and skips on, fulfilled after a day working the field of a small Missouri farm.
Kris has rediscovered his athletic form from his labors – his shirt hugs his perfectly formed guns and his shoulders impress. His skin is black and leathery and is glazed by the sunlight that rains upon him.
“Well done Kris”, calls out his employer, Mr Sawyer who watches on admiringly as Kris departs. “Alriiiiiigh” he exclaims, reeling his arm in a wheel-like motion. Kris loves nothing more than praise from Mr Sawyer.
Intoxicated with happiness, Kris heads home his usual route. Looking up after picking a handful of dasies, Kris notices a figure watching him from a cabin doorway. Thinking little of it he tips his cap and says “ma’am” with a smile.
“Excuse me misser, could you help me ou’ jus’ one minut?” comes the gentle voice of the young white girl. There she stood, a ribbon in her hair, a girl Kris hadn’t seen before. Always pleased to help, Kris steps in the cabin after her.
“Damn foolin’ kids always leavin’ stuff lying here-there-anywhere. Be a dear and grab me tha’ book from top that there cuppbor” “I wudda got the kids go done do it therselv’ but i sent ‘em off for popsicles, my treat!”
Kris complies and enthusiastically grabs a stool, stepping on. Overwhelmed by desire the seemingly innocent girl tears away at Kris dungaries as he looms over her. They crumple to a heap on the floor and before he can react, the girl begins devouring his mammoth floppy piece.
Like a youthful Akabousi off his starter blocks – he leaps to a long, hard attention. He grabs the girl by her hair. She loves the rough touch of the burly black man.
Not content with the girl’s poor oral technique Akabousi withdraws, kicks the stool away, rips of the girls cotton dress and garters and pounds her on the floor. An hour later and Akabousi stands, looking down on the girl. She is exhausted and content after a good boning.
He reaches for the book and reads her a line, “people in their right minds never take pride in their talents”. He closes the book and turns. Tipping his cap he pats her fanny, whispering “awooga”, sofly in her ear.
