Member Since: 1/8/2012
Posts: 26,732
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Quote:
Originally posted by Badger
The room is cold; the heating bill hasn't been paid for months. Neither has the electricity. The one light in the room sways from the ceiling, flickering as though it's on its last breath.
A figure sits hunched on a chair, shivering in the cold and glaring through the dimness. She looks up at the light. Soon she will have enough money for a crystal chandelier, she thinks determinedly. Azealia waits for her IBM Processor 1999 to boot up, cracking her fingers athritically in preparation.
Finally, she gets on to Twitter, ignoring the piece of paper on the desk beside her bearing the scrawl: Don't Do It! You're better than this! Pretty AB x.
As she scans the tweets on her timeline, her body begins to heat up. Every joyful tweet, every smiling photo, every vain boast of a successful lifestyle furthers the anger burning inside the Harlem rapper. "Why must I be the only one who suffers?" she snarls rattily. Her heart rate increases and her breathing becomes shallow. In her mind she pictures all the suffering throughout history of her racial compatriots, and the ice cold mocking face of the White Man. She begins to drool, and curses the names of every boardroom executive she had to be polite to.
An innocuous tweet suddenly catches her eye. It was posted by a young black woman, stating her disappointment with Azealia and a prayer for her to recover. Miss Banks nearly bites her tongue in two as she chokes back angry tears. Who the **** is this ungrateful field slave??? How dare she throw back all my hard work in my face. She's barely black! Look how pale this bitch is! I bet she has a white boyfriend, I bet she loves being chained up like the worthless house c*** that she is! She won't get away with badmouthing me!
As these thoughts violently swirl around her skull, Azealia types out an abrasive and expletive response. The room is still silent, bar the unstable weezing of Miss Amor and the frantic clacking of the keyboard.
As she hits send, she sees the predictable responses from the accursed internet homosexuals. "OMG 😂" "Azealia no!" "Ugh not again this bitch" "Lmao ending her career!" As she watches the reaction to her tweet grow larger, she smiles: a strained twitching grin which cracks her chapped lips. She sees the original tweeter respond, upset, and gleefully continues her racist and nonsensical attack.
Behind her, a bloody torn up poster of Iggy Azalea flutters to the ground. Azealia does not notice, nor does she notice the light above her flicker and die. Much like her career.
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Hagsbeen fans need to go outside once in a while.
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