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There is a retarded Mexican working next door. I can hear his mentally deranged Hispanic grumblings all the way over here. ...later... I went over there to gawk at him as he tarded around the neighbors' property. He was like a lower form of animal. Given a stimulus, he would perform an action. Same stimulus; same action. I was able to discern this crude pattern after a short period of observation over the fence. His brain appeared child-like and malleable, and he was eager to please. He possessed no guile, in fact, I judged him to be incapable of it. I slowly came to realize that with the proper stimuli, he could be manipulated into practically any deed, much as an ant can be coerced with the erection of artificial barriers. After consulting with my children's nanny, I inveigled myself into the retard's good favor with a Corona and a slice of lime. One "Safeway" Brand frozen burrito later, I had him squatting in my parlor, eagerly pounding down turds from my asshole as fast as my digestion could create them. I let loose with a bout of trumpeting flatulence, and turned to face him. His shit-smeared visage gazed up at me, ingenuous eyes wide and dull. A couple cryptic syllables tumbled from his mentally challenged lips, and a tear rolled down his cheek. I couldn't comprehend the emotion exuding from that crippled brain, but I chose to believe that it was joy.
Date Written: October 26, 2005