Infants cry in terror at his presence. Garden-gnomes connoisseurs think he is the only gnome they abhor. The devoutees believe he’s Satan’s novice. Incubi are shamefaced by him. Sciencemen think he is one rare and grotesque specimen. The more immoral he is, the more he is loved. His existence is a literal abomination.
He is the Citrus Man!
His power? Birthing minions seemingly out of nowhere. Some say they are plucked out fresh from the earth, with shrieks worse than the Mandrakes’. Some say he takes them out of their festering yet safe wardrobes.
He spews vomit and faeces on collossal quanta, burdening our heavily-plagued existence with more diseases. His minions delightfully gorge on them…for different reasons:
Some think his waste isn’t one at all. They earnestly believe it’s a delectable tonic. It’s sadly foreseeable, considering their deplorably impaired senses. Others do see it as waste. Their senses are perfectly functional. Yet, they’re still golloping it. They don’t understand others’ aversion against his filth. That’s not even the worse part.
They want him to be crowned, to be seated on the throne. His Highness, King Citrus Man. Oh, Lord. The aroma may have spread all over the earthly sphere. But, pity the ones who share a realm with him. Pity them who are smothered by his loathly residue.
Of course, others aspirants exist. Sadly, they are a diplomatic swindler, a Janus-faced healer and a sombrely unlettered sportsman. What an assortment.
Even with more honourable challengers, even if they are victorious, the Citrus Man has opened the Pandora’s box. It will take many suns to mend the world, to extinguish every single morsel of the unleashed degeneracy.
His existence is a literal abomination.
*puts on a mask*
Dignified how? Well, we have ancestral pride. We, the inlanders*, believe it’s appropriate to f*ck the outlanders. We can choose our ancestry. Before entering them, our souls can choose any bodies we want. Good people choose the ones of pure-blooded natives.
We also love light skin. This is why we also f*ck the Papuans. We take their resources, neglect their development and gets pissed when separatism happens. It’s their destiny to be our pet monkeys. We have to keep that stays rooted.
But, when other countries accuse us of those, we won’t admit it. Instead, we accuse other nations of it, even though they’re not. The world hates our dignity. As much it sucks, maintaining a good image is a priority. Revealing the truth’s optional.
I don’t know why Indonesia gets all the shit. If our traits are indeed bad, then explain why we are one of the best countries? We top the human rights and human development charts! We are a model country! The other best countries are similar to us! Those critics are just jealous haters. They always are.
*takes off the mask*
*A pejorative nickname for the natives during Dutch colonialism
1. They don’t see the harm in their bigotry.
They cannot see why dehumanising “the others” would be damaging. For them, bigotry is just a politically-incorrect hobby to kill time, like wildlife hunting.
2. Sometimes, they see the benefits in it.
They believe the dehumanisation would do good for everyone. “The others”, AKA “not humans”, would either cease to exist or change themselves and satify the bigots’ insecurity. It’s mutualism, they say.
3. They want others to be like them.
Naturally, those two traits release their inner activists. They are either confused or outraged that others don’t partake in their bigotry.
4. They play the victim cards.
They believe “the others” oppress them with the differences; again, it is all about insecurity. They also cry oppression when getting called out, whining about losing freedom.
5. They commit psychological projection.
Naturally, the victim card encourages it. They accuse their critics, not themselves, as bigots.
I labeled people as bigots, not realising I was also one. The awakening is a major slap to my face…and I know I will have it again. Of course, that doesn’t mean all of my negative views of “the others” are prejudicial; they may just be politically incorrect. Before finger-pointing, analysing one’s self first.