A Sunset of Rage

Chapter 18

Frederic led Damien to the swampy pond in his neighborhood. He had a net and jar for deepwater jew collecting. Deepwater jews were small, watery jewish fairies that lived deep in water. Legend stated that if you collected enough, your bank account would never go under $10,000 dollars. The intelligent Osama had even theorized that the reason Donald Trump was so rich was due to an abundance of pet deepwater jews.
"I will crush the deepwater jews," Damien grumbled.
"Dami, no! No man is strong enough to defeat them!" Frederic protested.
Frederic was wearing his horrific capybara-printed swim trunks. He waded into the thick, murky water, stained with the green of fungal algae. "I can smell the jews," he whispered.
"GET OUT OF MY POND!" the greedy neighbor hollered.
"Heh. Hitler was right. I love Hitler," Assef chuckled.
Damien teared up at the memory of his beloved Hassan. True, the tragedy was nowhere near as significant as the glass castle, but the small, racially inferior child deserved his respect. "Excuse me a minute. I need to gather my thoughts," he said politely, bowing his head in prayer.
"Me too," Frederic chuckled. His plan to hijack the power grid and shut down all electrically fueled devices around the world was coming along swell.
A deepwater jew fluttered near Damien, glowing greenly. "Hi! I'm a jew!" it greeted.
"Hi, I want to die," Damien replied.
"Don't be sad! Be jewish! Here, have these dollars!" the fairy giggled, giving him a collection of $100 dollar bills.
"W-Whoa! You really are magical!" Damien gasped, clutching the money.
"Hehe! In exchange for my cash, you'll owe me $700 dollars and 52 cents, including tax," the fairy jew informed.
"Ugh, I guess," Damien grumbled, handing it $700 dollars from the collection he'd received. At least he had like $50 dollars left.
"Hehe! That's how I scam people into accepting a cheap amount of money! You've just been jewed!" the deepwater jew congratulated.
"D*MMIT!" Damien yelled, wrinkling the $50 dollar bill in his fist.
"Yay!" Frederic exclaimed, trapping the jew in his jar. A quarter appeared in his hand as a reward.
Woollen clicked, chasing a jew. He wanted the money to save up for a pet cone snail.
Mama Shapiro rang the dinner bell. It could be heard throughout the entire neighborhood. "Yay, alfredo!" Frederic chirped, trotting away. Damien hatefully followed.
Osama was frantically digging in the front yard. "What are you doing, you little turd?" Frederic asked happily. Even his insults were kindhearted.
"D-Drunkle buried a beer bottle for the winter! I can't find it!" Osama cried, falling face first into the dirt.
"Hehe. Glad I'm not you," Frederic chuckled.
"MUSH!" Drunkle ordered, whipping the small tween.
"Let me check you for ticks," Big Mama said, looking through Frederic's unkempt blonde hair. No ticks. The large man was sanitary tonight.
"Foolish," Damien commented, crossing his arms.