It was late one Thursday evening, around 10 PM, that I suddenly realized that I did not have the $65 in cash that would be due to our gardener, Jesus, the following Friday morning for his weekly salary. I've always taken pride in paying my employees on time. They work tirelessly for us 7 days a week, and it’s important to me that I do everything I can to facilitate their financial security. Jesus, in particular, was especially worthy of this punctuality and deference, as he was the maintainer of our Beautification Award Winning Statue Garden. We were the reigning champion for 4 years in a row in our working-class neighborhood.

It had to be cash, of course, because Jesus was a simple, undocumented man, doing everything he could to build a future in a safe country for his pregnant wife and 11 children. Working in a semi-legitimate fashion, using stolen Social Security Numbers, was no longer an option with the American Gestapo, ICE, and the tyrannical DHS enforcing the law. We’re supposed to be a proper country; a modern democracy, but we had recently fallen under the tyrannical rule of a fascist King. I had originally planned to stop by the bank after attending a protest against the King earlier this morning, but I had gotten so caught up in the fervor of our chants that I must have forgotten in my residual euphoria on the drive home. It would be difficult to explain to Jesus that I did not have the money on time, given the language barrier. He’s only been here for 7 years, after all, and I would hate to have to cause an additional school absence for one of his children, whom we relied on frequently to translate.

So, I hurriedly threw on my coat, grabbed my keys, and asked my wife’s permission to go by the bank and withdraw some cash to pay Jesus. The garden was her pride and joy, the product of her heart and mind, so she enthusiastically agreed and handed me the debit card before resuming Grey’s Anatomy with her head nestled into her boyfriend’s chest.

It was a brisk night, and I became quite cold walking all the way across our 4-car garage, but was thankful for the heated seats and steering wheel upon finally settling into my BMW X7. It was a pleasant drive with minimal traffic for the most part, but I was disheartened to see a housing challenged gentleman evacuating within a few hundred yards of the gate to our neighborhood. I couldn’t help the bitterness and rage for billionaires swelling within me, and muttered audibly to myself, “If they’d just pay their fair share, nobody would ever have to suffer like this!” I mentally replayed some scenes from my favorite trans content creator to calm myself, and felt better by the time I arrived at the bank.

I spotted the ATM, thankfully enclosed in a heated access room, a normal practice here in Connecticut, due to the bitterness of our winters. I rushed through the cold and into the room, inadvertently startling a small Jewish man currently accessing the ATM, his payots bouncing momentarily in his fright. He peered over his shoulder cautiously, a wave of relief visibly washing over him upon realizing I was certainly not a Nazi or White Supremacist, made obvious by my soft physique, thick rimmed glasses, and beard curated by reddit.com/r/beards.

The Jewish man finished his transaction, the ATM loudly dispensing the cash with such force that a dollar bill drifted towards the ground like a feather falling from the wing of a dove. He reflexively snatched it before it could hit the ground, and briefly glanced at me with what I thought was a look of guarded disdain, but quickly concluded was a misinterpretation on my part.

After counting his withdrawal 4 or 5 times, he squared up his cash and stowed it in a small leather wallet and began turning towards the exit to leave. Suddenly, I heard the door violently swing open behind me, and a flash of true horror appeared on the Jewish man’s face. “Surely not!” I thought to myself, and half turned to see the White Supremacist I was certain had entered the facility, but was relieved to see it was a well-dressed black gentleman in the finest Supreme Luxury wear, thick gold chains, loose-laced Jordans, his pants hugging his knees, as is customary in their powerful and admirable culture, and the sweet sounds of Mumble Rap blasting through a Bluetooth speaker he was carrying in his pocket, something I had missed initially when I began anxiously surveying the situation.

He was a towering man, about 6’6, very fit, covered in tattoos and jewelry. Much to my shock, the Jewish man’s face did not relax, and he quickly scurried out of the ATM facility, nearly in a full sprint to his vehicle.

I was puzzled by his sustained reaction, but did not give it much more thought before proceeding towards the ATM. I tapped my wife's card and was prompted to enter her PIN. I took a final, cursory sweep at the edge of my peripherals to verify that no White Supremacists had somehow managed to sneak into the facility in order to clandestinely scalp my wife's PIN, and, when looking over my right shoulder, I noticed the fashion connesiourre standing rather close to me. Those Supreme hoodies, while fashionable, only retain so much heat, so I knew he must be trying to distance himself from the freezing entrance. I entered my wife's PIN.

I woke up on the ground, my head throbbing, alone in the ATM facility. I presumed the paragon of luxury had gone to get help after I passed out. I attempted to check the time on the Rolex GMT-Master II on my wrist, only to realize it wasn’t there. I dug around in my pockets to find my iPhone 18 Pro, but could not find it either. I must have forgotten them in my rush out the door. I glanced up at the analog clock on the wall, which I was thankful I could read (unlike MAGAts), and realized it had been only a few minutes since I last remembered being awake.

I had experienced this type of syncope before, the last time being as I was leaving a Black Lives Matter protest in the heart of the government housing of a nearby city, where a future doctor had been gunned down in cold blood by the local pigs, all because he accidentally tried to catch the gun (that was not drop safe) in his waist from dropping onto the ground and discharging.

I waited about 15 minutes for the cultural phenom to return with help, before deciding I should probably get home, lest a White Supremacist discover me in my disoriented state without any form of emergency contact.

I found my wallet on the ground beside me, and my wife’s debit card loose nearby. I tapped her card, entered her PIN, and attempted to withdraw the $65 for Jesus several times, the transaction being declined each time.

I decided to head home defeated, upset that I would have to check out Jesus’s daughter from school tomorrow to translate for us, though my wife did have new ideas for Jesus, so it would make a separate absence we had already planned unnecessary.

On my way home, I saw the housing challenged fellow administering himself a insulin in a vein on the top of his foot, and I was thankful that, at the very least, he had access to essential healthcare despite his present circumstance.

I arrived home and trudged inside, still somewhat groggy from my syncope earlier. I called out to my wife, who shouted angrily at me from the home theater room. When I entered the room, I was dismayed to see her boyfriend had left, as I was hoping to ask him to play Fortnite with me after their activities.

I explained to her that I had some good news and some bad news. The bad news was, I was unable to withdraw the $65 to pay Jesus tomorrow due to failed transactions, and also had another instance of unexpected syncope, which, understandably, seemed to stoke her anger for me.

The good news was, I saw a great potential candidate for another boyfriend while out. Her disposition shifted immediately, and she excitedly asked for more details. I described the Black King I had seen just prior to my episode. She was pleased to hear this, and we both hoped we’d run into him again sometime soon.

She then mentioned that she had received some strange emails while I was out. She showed me several different emails and said she'd tried to call me several times, but I never picked up. I told her I forgot my phone at home, but she said she would have heard it ringing if that was the case.

The first few emails were large withdrawal notices, followed by others notifying that the withdrawal limit had been reached. All in all, about $5000 had been withdrawn from our accounts!

All at once, it dawned on me! Those god damned White Supremacists must have been lurking nearby! The Jewish man must have spotted them on his way out, thus the expression on his face and speedy exit. They watched me enter my wife's PIN through the glass, saw that I passed out, waited for the Good Samaritan to leave to go get help, then stole my wife’s debit card, withdrew the maximum from her account, and finally fleeced my phone and watch, which I remembered that I had in fact checked on my way across the sidewalk to the ATM room.

We reluctantly resolved to go right to the police first thing in the morning, hopeful that they wouldn't protect their fellow White Supremacist when we had undeniable proof, after checking out Sofia, of course.