All hail the Queen! When Nicki Minaj creates a park to end all racism on earth, Vicente is not amused but learns a thing or two about racism.
Trigger Warning: Epics are not good reading for religious zealots, especially Christians, sexually uptight pricks, or stupid people.
*All books in the Epic Short Story Series contain adult content.
The Epic Short Stories are satirical, sometimes raunchy narratives poking fun at religion, entertainment, and society. Written originally as a concept for animation, the Epics soon developed into tiny fiction installments made available on KDP.
Chapter 1. Soul Park
“What is it, Scoop?” I looked up from my desk.
Carrie Fisher leaned in the office door jamb. “Boss, I got a great story, but you need to go to earth.”
“What’s the story?”
Scoop stepped into the office and threw a piece of paper with an address on the desk. “Nicki Minaj built something she claims will end all racism on earth. It’s a secret, and I got the location, but you need to go there and investigate.”
“Dammit, Scoop, can’t Eazy go? He has the six-four, and I’m drowning in work.”
“Eazy and I are still working on the Dr. Peebody case. It’s all on you, boss.” Scoop laughed, racing out of the office.
I leaned back and pulled my hair, frustrated with the hectic nature of the job, but Scoop was correct: the story needed reporting. Grabbing my keys and the address, I headed to the car and soon drove the tunnel of light to earth. On the drive, I debated names for my car, but nothing seemed to work. Scoop told me God would give me the answer and to wait for a sign; perhaps she was right.
The exit from the light tunnel bounced the Camaro on an empty highway headed to northern California. Curiosity grew as I turned off the main road and approached a high fence with a sign: “Soul Park.” Stopping in front of the gate brought a guard from a small shack, “Can I help you?”
I rolled down the window. “May I see the owner, Nicki Minaj? I am a reporter.”
The guard frowned in annoyance, leaned into the shack, and used the phone. “Yeah, there’s some cracker ass reporter here to see Nicki…okay…right.”
He hung up the phone and turned to me. “You can go in, but you have to leave your ride here.”
I started opening the door. “Do you want the keys?”
“Motherfucker, do I look like a fuckin’ valet? Park that shit over there.” He pointed to some parking spaces to the left of the guard shack, and I steered the car to the parking area, grumbling to myself, “Man, he is in a bad mood.”
After parking, I entered the open gate, and the guard said from behind me, “Just walk your ass straight to the trailer by the park’s entrance, and Nicki will meet you out front.”
“Thanks.”
The guard walked away, muttering, “White bread motherfucker.”
I shook my head, wondering what had pissed him off.
Inside, a trailer stood beside another high fence obscuring the building beyond. Next to the trailer stood an empty set of turnstiles at the entrance to the seeming amusement park. A beautiful black woman whipped her gold hair and massive breasts as she issued orders to construction workers. Lust’s grip focused attention on the commanding woman who took notice and pointed to me. “You the reporter?”
“Yes, I am. I heard you were building something that could end all racism on earth. Are you willing to discuss it on the record?”
The construction men scampered off as Nicki laughed, “Now, how did you hear that? We don’t make our press release for another month.”
I took out my phone to make some notes. “Oh, I’ve got sources.”
Nicki placed her hands on her hips. “All right then, cracker, welcome to Soul Park.”
