Niko + Changchang

The Racist Gangbanger

Nutella didn’t disappear during our vacation in Budapest.  That was a complete lie.  He got run over by some white soccer thug in a low-riding Vasas cap who was racing down Fortuna Utca in a dirty white Mercedes.  I was walking Nutella after work and he'd rushed into the street (like he always did) when that asshole was RACING through Castle Hill, running right over our baby boy, crushing his skull and just driving away like it was nothing.  I chased after him through Buda for twenty minutes, screaming at him all the way to Chain Bridge until I lost him somewhere in the middle of Pest, cradling our dead Dachsund in my arms with tears corroding my cheeks.  Eventually, I saw him again driving through a back alley like an underworld sketchster, so I followed him when he slammed the brakes, rolled down his window, and pulled out his e-gun, aiming it right at my EMOS bump.  He shouted in English: walk the fuck away, you chinky Asian bitch before I nanocap your skinny ass and watch your body explode like Independence Day fireworks.  I gulped and stepped back.  I wanted to tell you the truth when I got home, so badly, but that was the day you’d got three rejections for grad school (USC, Yale, and Columbia--motherfuckers).  And you wondered why I was sweaty and shaking and raging with tears in my eyes like a kimo-kawaii doll.  Two months later, you broke up with me, and I know you blamed me for Nutella's death.  I should have told you.  But then again, you should have asked.