Tyson, Kamala, Now Rhett. Will the POC Community Ever Win?

By Alex Johnson | Photo by Yara Ahmed

Some sights are hard to see. The hardest is seeing your hero fall to depths so low that they start hanging around #certifiedlosers. That’s where this reporter found our once beloved school mascot…chain smoking outside Questom with a flock of freshmen wearing snapbacks and cigarette packs.

As I approached BU’s Rhett, I smelt notes of a fragrance he described as “Whiskey & Bourbon.” An interesting flavor–it smelled so much like the real thing.

Through puffs of fags, Rhett began to vent.

It’s not often that I feel myself get mad, but right now the blood’s boiling. Right now I see red. I don’t know why I feel such rage right now, all I know is that I feel it every time I think of her, every time I see her stupid ass smile, everytime I see her whore-ish white skin.

I started to question who he was speaking of when he interrupted—

We just won Beanpot and WHO represented the school? Not Bean, that’s who!

“Bean, you’re so cool.”

“Bean, you’re so calm.”

“Bean, you’re so collected.”

Nigga, fuck all y’all! Shut your bitch ass up before I calmly collect my hands and make everyone who gushes and blushes over that mutt bleed red.

I used to be the top dog. It used to be me! First Kamala lost to an orange crook in orange (#felon), then Tyson lost to a kid coked out on roids, and now me?? Sure we won the Superbowl but WHAT. ABOUT. ME! When will my people be freed from rewarding white mediocrity?

“Rhett, you are grace. Rhett you are love,” I try to console him.

No…Rhett’s gonna beat that whiny mutt until her bones are exposed, giving me something to gnaw on til I’m all gums…

Cig in his mouth, Rhett said he’s debating going by his full name–Everett–which sounds whiter and would hopefully help him keep his job before he’s fired for being a “DEI hire.”

I heard sirens in the background, and my worst fears began setting in. “Rhett…what did you do?”

He had a lighter in his hands, and I realized his fragrance had notes of something else…gasoline.

If I burn

I want a show

Not a dimmering out

But a combustion that’ll allow them to feel the heat

To know even in this fleeting moment

On my first life

That I was here

The sirens got louder as Bean wailed for help.

“Rhett…what did you do?”

Freed my people.