There was a white man who lived alone in a small apartment in New York City.
He worked for the government but had never been outside of the five boroughs. Air scared him. Animals frightened him. People disturbed him.
One day he started scratching himself. His skin peeled and was dark, and when he went to pee, he was stunned. His junk had gotten bigger.
“It’s not right,” he thought, “but it’s not wrong.”
That night his mother called and he pretended to listen.
When he woke the next day, he felt refreshed — happy, even. He took a cab to the airport and boarded a plane to Kenya.
After landing, he got in the bush and built a fire for himself.
Fortunately, he had no luggage.
