" Actually I did not," he protested mildly in response to the perceived rebuke. "It came to me as I said it. But I think we need a wider consensus tha... what we are doing is worthwhile before we take further risks of that nature." I agree," she said. "Although I have my own view." So do I," he responded. "Especially after last night— uh, that is, I mean—"She interrupted his stammering with a burst of gay laughter. "All right, Carlos, I trust you to think with the proper size head."He grinned. "I. All he had on his mind was the first drink of the day and he was in a mad rush to get his legs in working order to make the short trek to the pub and get the show on the road. It was always that first drink that was the best and every pore in his dangerously overweight body was screaming in his brain to get a move on and tie the bloody shoes.The cursed police handlers were all around him and he had reached a stage in the whole affair where they were invisible to him because they made him feel. She felt so needed which always made her horny.We had a great traditional feast with plenty of champagne to accompany it. After we got the table cleared and the kitchen in shape, I suggested to my wife that she give Ramiro a special dessert.She grinned and grabbed a bowl of pumpkin pudding she’d especially made. Our older boys went off to be with their buds and I took the youngest boys outside to play in the leaves while the other adults played in the guest room.An hour later Ramiro took over. The White feminists hate us women of color more than the rednecks do, that’s for damn sure. I try and avoid them like the plague. Wallahi, the last thing I want to do is hang around someone who sees my skin color and the Hijab on my head before they realize that I am a human being. To White feminists, I am and always will be the social and cultural other. The fact that I stand six feet tall, dark-skinned and curvy, in a land that worships skinny pale bitches, doesn’t exactly bode well for me. I.