The Hard Life of a Brownie
By Ty Moyer

Okay world this is it, the final march to the pearly gates. My life is slowly coming to a gruesome end. These damn racists. Isn’t it predictable that a dessert of color would be the first to go, while the powdered white doughnuts are free to live out their shelf life in peace? This is the way it always has been. Brownies get no respect. I guess to fully understand my opinion on oppression; you must hear my story from the beginning.

My parents were an interracial couple. My father was dark and creamy chocolate. He was strong but sweet, but he also was slightly bitter. My mother was a fragile egg, but she had curves and knew how to use them. They met on the kitchen counter, on the corner of the sink and the oven. My mother’s parents (her mother was milky white, and her father was a soft powdery flour) were quite strict, and did not approve of her choice to be with a man from a different part of the fridge. One night, my mother snuck out of her carton to go meet my father in secret. As soon as they saw each other, they started to “become passionate” with one another. They continued to “express their love for each other”, until my bittersweet father cracked my mothers off-white shell. You see, my mother had never been cracked before; this was her first time. Before she could sneak back to her carton, her parents, the milk and flour, caught her with “this piece of dark chocolate”, they were so furious, the milk and flour began attacking my parents without hesitation. As they continued to get mixed up with my mom and pop, the argument became incredibly heated; literally. They began to bake in the heat of the argument.

And, to make a long story short, 9 minutes later they had me, a sweet, fluffy brownie. My life was short but sweet. You could say I was incredibly rich, but now, I am in the hands of my creator, about to descend into this dark tunnel. How ironic; the same issues of prejudice that created me are now taking me away forever. Those white fluffy doughnuts will be free to live their lives, soon becoming stale and slightly green. Well, here it goes. I am entering the dark tunnel! What a feeling! This is incredi….