A trip to Chruser's house.

It was a snowing in Sweden that day, not heavily, but enough to shrink visibility to a level low enough to me a minor annoyance. As I pulled up to Chruser's house, I marveled at the 50's-style construction and the well decorated garden encircling the house like a protective moat. Though it was snowing, I could see roses and daisies, all carefully trimmed and kept sparkling, even in such a rough climate. Since the yard was fenceless, I just walked closer and closer to the front door, while staring at the splended brushery. A blonde man emerged from the side of the house, and yelled "They're fake you know...I had a nigger plant them." I looked at the man as he got closer, and when he was close enough to hear me I told him "I'm looking for Chruser." "I'm Chruser, what's your business?", he said. "I'm Mantralord from your Zelaron White Nationalism and Pride forums", I replied. He gave me a look as if astutely searching for any traces of non-white heritage. His piercing blue eyes searched all the crevices of my face, and while I had a deep feeling of admiration towards this man's gaze, I also felt paralyzed by his grasping eyes. "You're late", he said in a slightly condescending voice. Though we wasn't gazing at me anymore, I felt as if I couldn't feel my legs, let alone move. It took what seemed like an eternity for me to trigger my neurons out of hibernation. "I...I'm sorry Chruser, the train from Vienna was delayed due to some bad weather and I...", I said, which he quickly interrupted with "Well son, white folk aren't late." He paused and took a mighty sniff of the air. "Smells like the wife is cookin up something nice today, for a change. Come inside." he said. I followed him inside like a disciplined pet through his front door.

Inside, the Nazi paraphenilia was everywhere. I couldn't turn anywhere without seeing a picture or a statuette of Hitler or Himmler or any other high-ranking Nazi figure. To the right of the doorway he had a study, and in this study I could see no less than ten copies of Mein Kampf, each a different version and revision, and countless pieces of Nazi and White Nationalism literature around that, as if protecting the central Nazi reich. To the right of the books I could see a gorgeous LCD monitor displaying the Zelaron home page. A slight breeze from a heating unit brought me the smell of cooking meat and potatoes. "Smells like potatoes", I said. "Yeah, I like potatoes...they're white on the inside at least", Chruser replied. I folllowed him into the kitchen, and to my jaw-dropping surprise, there was a black women clad in cooking wear boiling some potatoes. "This is the misses, she's a nigger", he said. "I only keep her around because she makes some good 'taters", he said. Before the shock could even wear off, Chruser made his way to the back door in the kitchen, and I followed him. We went outside, and no more than 3 yards away I could see an axe and some firewood. "Would ya help me chop some wood", Chruser said. There was only a single axe, so I guess the job was mine. I walked over, picked up the axe, and began splitting logs. As I split them, Chruser mentioned how he loved the snow. "It's white", he said. "I like the snow...reminds me of a time when we white men weren't contaminated with them dirty niggers like we are today", he said. Living in Sweden all his life, Chruser had never seen a Hispanic man. He had no idea of my origins, and I can only assume he thought I was one of those hard-working tanned white men from the Southern States. Regardless, he thought I was white, and he accepted me. That was all that mattered.

An hour later, the food was done and we were inside. Chruser's misses had retired to bed, and it was just me and him at the table. We had corn, mashed potatoes, gravy, a whole chicken, and a pecan pie all to ourselves. I slopped a good serving of mashed potatoes, gravy, and chicken on my plate. As soon as I started eating, I was interrupted by Chruser. "I hate them homosexuals", he said. "They're always spreading disease and when white folk do it, it doesnt help the race out at all", he added. I couldn't swallow the food I already had in my mouth. Chruser probably didn't know that I was a homosexual, but his hatred was frightening. "If one of them faggots ever crossed my path I tell ya I got a nice double-barrel shotgun sitting right in my study", he said, as he pointed to the study. I guess I didn't notice it when I first looked in there, but the shotgun was right there mounted next to his computer (which was still displaying the Zelaron home page). I almost lost my appetite, but I finished eating anyway, and even forced down a helping of that pecan pie. The food was delicious, despite the prevalent taste of fear in it. When we finished, it was already 10 at night. Chruser walked over to the sofa in the living room, and pulled out a sofabed. "This is your bed", he said. I walked over and lay in it. It was warm from being next to the fireplace, which was burning the wood I chopped earlier. As I became comfortable, Chruser surprised me yet again and lay next to me. I felt a mixture of both insecurity and delight, as the man I both feared and admired lay next to me. "Ya know, more white folk should be like you. You got good manners and are a good time" he said, as he shifted his head to look at my eyes. I just stared back into his. I slowly drifted asleep, and right as I was about to doze off, I felt the unexpected. He kissed me softly, and said he loved me.

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