This is an American story. And thus, it involves Americans.

"I'm not paying for that shot!" I insisted, reeling back around. I affixed the Keep in my stare. "I ain't paying for that."

"Oh. You're paying. And then you're gettin the fuck out of my establishment."

"I got it, Ernest," said the aforementioned bum from a few stools down.

"Bullshit. I want him out. Fuckin nigger lover..."

"I don't even know where to start!" I exclaimed. I didn't even know where to start. "Black lives matter."

"Nah, man. I don't think he even knew that guy. I'll watch him. You got my word. We're good."

"Ya. If he itches his nose wrong, I'm throwin him the fuck out. I'm sick of this shit."

"Nigger lover?" I repeated, still in shock. "What does that even mean? Dude - what year is this?"

The bum grabbed me up and none too gently guided me over to a table located at the back of the seedy establishment.

Lynrd Skynrd blared.

"We don't take too kindly to...their kind. In these parts," he explained through a wad of tobacco. "I don't think Ernest there was so much bothered by the shot glass or the counter or your mouth - he didn't like that other guy coming in here."

"Priceless," I muttered.

"Proud to know ya," bum guy said, extending a hand. "Name's..."

Somethin or other. I forget. Like I said, I'm bad with names.

"Ya," I grunted.

"You were at that funeral today. I'm sorry for your loss. Local girl."

He spit in an empty bottle. Nothing alarming about that. But I did a double take when I saw him take a drink from the same exact bottle.

Yep. A drink mind you, a long gulp. And I asked him about it. So he immediately sprang up. "You implying you wanna fuck my daughter, you sorry sack of shit!?" he raged, gesturing at the bimbo still seated back at the bar.

I dusted myself off, calmly as I could, and collected myself, as it were. Or was it? I had never met him or his daughter, I informed him, you know, yada yada. No. I don't want to fuck his daughter.

No.

He seemed to calm down some.

"Well if yer implying I wanna fuck my daughter - Yer God damn right, God dammit. That's my right. And ya. I spit a lot. I chew a lot. I do a lot of things that I choose not to disclose of on my tax forms. You a fuckin taxman? I thought you looked skeevy. No? You lying sack of potatoes. Well I might spit. I might not. I may or may not drink it. I can spit and swallow wherever I want. A chicken can cluck and a God damn rooster can strut about and cock a mother fucking doodle doo, so what the fuck does that have to do with me and the federal government?"

I fidgeted. I was already uneasy and ready to move on. But this guy just readjusted his Make America Great hat and thrust an accusatory finger at me.

"You are a white American. I am a white American. My daughter is white. She is American. I can fire a gun at a terrorist or any foreign invader on My Space or Nigger I catch on my front porch or Facebook. Or my daughter. If I catch her with some invader or..." He trailed off.

He paused and shook his head. "Anyway. I own a trailer. I vote. I train a pitbull. I read."

I applauded him. "Really?" I queried.

"My white forefathers came before us and fought off and murdered the God damn illiterate injuns. Burned their children and pillaged their women. Raped their villages. Enslaved the tribal African niggers while they were still running around; paintin their faces and piercing their nipples, struttin' around naked with their big, black African dicks FLOPPIN and DANGLING all over the place, DAMMIT."

He trailed off into a string of curses I dare not repeat. He looked up at me, suddenly then, and coughed.

"Right. Uh. Anyway. Gettin all tangled up in the thornbushes, as they were chasing lions - with spears and poison blow darts. Scaring off monkeys and zebras and such. Before they became the modern-day, Africanized-UnAmerican, street rapping scum they are now."

He spit again. Then drank.

"But enough about them. More about us. They went on. You know. On to bigger and better and whiter things - you know- less darkness and no more floppin and flappin about with abandon. Animals. To us. As a country. Moon landings and blowing up chink cities with Atomic bombs. AMERICA!!!"

I jumped back, startled. But I nodded. "America,"...