As if he stood a chance anyway. Word of advice, Chris? The next time #Becky knocks on your door?
Don’t let her in!
For when #Becky walks into your home, see, things might turn up missing, police reports might be filed, and all the money in the world cannot protect your melanin-covered parts from this tornado of f*ckery.
Does it matter that she has a rap sheet longer than your set list? Does it matter that she is a former beauty queen stripped of her title? Does it matter that she has a tendency to snatch a purse and Flo Jo it out of a 5-star hotel?
And you know why.
She is #Becky, able to use her white privilege to fly, glide, and levitate over any infractions, simply because she can. It is never #Becky’s first time at the rodeo. There has never been a f*ckerized situation that she cannot wrangle her way out of. She is Ryan Lochte.
With store-bought, glorious tittyballs.
See her saunter and sashay into your house, case it, and then file a police report on you as if YOU did something. Even if you’re innocent, you’re guilty, Mr. Brown. You didn’t just let the fire in. you let in The Firestarter.
So what have we ultimately learned from this lesson? The next time #Becky knocks at your door?