"But someday somebody’ll
Stand up and talk about me,
And write about me-
Black and beautiful-
And sing about me,
And put on plays about me!
I reckon it’ll be
Yes, it’ll be me."
This excerpt from a poem written by the great sepia scribe Langston Hughes, provided a great source of verve and fidelity to Dr. Slick, our dearly departed teacher. When she felt there was no balm in Gilead, she would turn to these few words, and fight her way through the darkness. Unfortunately, these words weren't enough to save her from her evil nemesis...Rock Bottom Betty. Class be seated.
Rock Bottom Betty that evil trickster heifer, with her jawline acne, daily negative paranoid filled rantings, and worthless A-cup tits, poisoned Dr. Slick's mind. Rock Bottom Betty bluffed our girl into believing that she was a loser. That everything she touched turned to shit. That she was a terrible actress and every audition was an exercise in humiliation. That she would never get her finances in order. That she was a hack-novice writer at best. And worst of all, that the sun would never come through the clouds.
Though the investigation of Slick's disappearance & demise is not complete, all signs point to foul play...Rock Bottom Betty is the prime suspect. Slick was in the midst of a rousing one month series on Black History--she was just about to embark upon the great Canadian maritime state of Nova Scotia when she went missing. But we at the Drunken Hosebag School of Marijuana Arts will carry on where the good professor left off. As the professor's TA, I vow to continue teaching the Black History Series, although it is March. But this is what the good Docta would have wanted. So....
Hockey, maple syrup, Dudley Do-Right, Michael J. Fox, Alanis Morrisette, and Whistler Mountain-- all words that make you think Canada, eh? Canada, our North American cousin with its ten provinces, three territories, glorious publicly funded health care and for the most part, the nicest fucking people on the planet. I suppose that's why many blacks, seeking freedom from slavery, decided to take the underground railroad all the way north to Nova Scotia--
*The lecture led by the T.A. is interrupted by the aromatic smell of scotch and the howling of the wind. The lights in the lecture hall flickers on and off. One by one, the students look around frightened, unsure of whether to flee or submit to the paranormal activity. A mist fills the room, and people howl in fear and confusion. Moments later, the mist clears, and the lights restore. The apparition takes shape of a woman smoking from peacefully from a pipe. The students turn, their eyes widen, mouths agape, and gasp at what appears to be, the return of Slick.
Hello mummies possums. Your rollicking wet nurse has returned from the dead. Stories to tell. Gather.
*she unhooks her bra
The class goes up in a roar.
NEXT LESSON: We couldn'tve done it without you honkey: Honoring White actors in Blaxploitation films.