Kamala Abdul was very pissed off.
Kamala is a mid-height woman of seemingly Middle-Eastern descent with tan skin, golden eyes, and black night-colored hair, and the hijab she wore did nothing to prevent people from thinking this. Which was good, considering it was true.
Kamala had lived her entire life in the United States, but her parents had moved from Iran to America, where they had her. For a few years, Kamala was a happy little baby.
Then 9/11 rolled around.
From then, Kamala’s five year old self started to notice people changing their attitudes to her and her family.
Despite this, Kamala has managed to ace her classes as a practicing Muslim without being saddled by the prejudice of Iran her parents wanted to protect her from. As a result, Kamala then got a high-paying job for Google.
She thought life couldn't get better.
And she was right, because of her boss.
Kamala's supervisor is named Jonathan Kirby, and he made it clear to Kamala that he did not like her. He went out of her way to drop hints about Kamala being unwelcome in the country, and he didn't shy away from agreeing with a certain someone who wants to end a certain group of people coming to the US.
Kamala was annoyed, and she wanted to give John a piece of her mind since his prejudice expanded to include blacks, Hispanics, Sikhs, and members of the LGBT community, but Jonathan was top dog at the branch at which they worked.
So Kamala stuck with it…
Until one night.
Kamala was working on a particularly difficult piece of code when Jonathan walked into her office.
“Hey, John,” she said, not taking her eyes off the computer screen.
“Okay, cut the bullshit, alright?”
Now she did look up. “Excuse me?”
“You don't think I know what you get up to? What your kind get up to? How am I supposed to know you're not going to blow yourself up right now?!” the slim man exclaimed, jabbing a finger in her direction.
“You're kidding,” Kamala said, going back to her computer.
“I'm not, which is why, to keep my coworkers safe, I'm going to have to let you go.”
“What the hell?!” she exclaimed, looking at Jonathan again. “You're joking, right?!”
Jonathan's face began to her red in contrast with his yellowish blonde mop of hair. “I'm in charge of this company, and I ain't going to let any sand niggers ruin it!”
Kamala lept from her seat and yelled at Jonathan, “You racist, sexist, weaselly CLOD!”
Jonathan was about to reply, but he stopped suddenly. “Huh?” Kamala asked, as Jonathan just stood there, his eyes glazed. Then, defying all laws of physics, Jonathan began to get smaller.
“What the fuck?” Kamala asked, knowing her parents would chastise her for such language. Jonathan slowly diminished, his clothes not shrinking with him. The surrounded the shrinking form until it looked like all that was left was a pile of fabric.
Kamala slowly fell to her knees and dig through the khaki pants until her hands caught something warm and soft. Then she pulled out the tiny man, once again sentient, who was looking around absolutely befuddled, from the cloth.
“What the fuck did you do to me?!” the nude man screeched.
“I, uh, I don't know,” Kamala said truthfully.
“Change me back! Come on! Change me back now!”
“I told you, I don't know how this happened!” she yelled.
“Well then drive me to a hospital!”
Kamala sighed, wondering to Allah how on Earth this could've happened. She cupped the man in her hands and started towards the exit of the building before stopping.
“Wait… why should I?”
Jonathan looked up at the massive woman's face, staring down at him ruefully. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Kamala began as she slowly kneeled down to the ground, setting Jonathan gently on the linoleum floor. “You're a terrible person. You're rude, racist, sexist, homophobic, and just a jerk,” Kamala went, gently undoing her boots and removing one of her birch-colored feet from her shoes. “You don't have much family or friends, and believe me, none of your co-workers will miss you at all.”
The smell of Kamala's foot hit Jonathan, who realized the gravity of what the woman was saying. He then immediately turned tail and ran, but his path was blocked as Kamala slammed her boot in the way.
“Ah, ah, ah, not so fast, little Johnny,” Kamala said, wagging her finger and smiling as she leaned down to undo this boot. After a few seconds, both peds were liberated and free to spread any scents they chose.
“And the most compelling of the reasons, if I crush you--or eat you, or sit on you, or whatever-- right here,” Kamala said, a her face beaming from within her hijab, “I can get a promotion!” And Kamala raised her right sole of the ground, the sticky surface releasing new odors to assault John's limited senses. Kamala angled her foot down at Jonathan, who had broken into tears, and with a flick of her big toe, Kamala knocked him down on his butt. She chuckled a little.
“Okay, I'm not sure. Maybe, maybe I might decide to take you to the doctor, if you do something for me.”
“What? Okay! Anything! Please! I'll do anything!” Jonathan said, on his knees both of his own volition and because he was knocked down earlier.
“I would like you to say, out loud, to me, that you are a sexist pig who doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as a termite.”
John faltered for a moment, but regained steam and yelled it to the girl's giant feet.
Kamala crouched down and cupped the man in her hands, giggling a slight bit.
“No, silly, do it like this!” Kamala placed Jonathan into the chair she was sitting on a couple minutes ago that was still warm.
Then Kamala reached to the waist of her jeans and pulled them down, showing her purple undergarments plain as day.
Then she sat on Jonathan.
“Now say it!”
Kamala took extra care to really grind Jonathan into the seat, rubbing her cute, tan, butt all over the little man. She was having fun.
Jonathan, on the other hand, want having fun at all. He was being compressed by the flesh of a Muslim’s ass! Jonathan was more than willing to say the words but he couldn't because his lungs were compressed, and his mouth was never a half inch distance from flesh.
Finally, Kamala stood up, zipped up her jeans and said, “Well, sorry. I asked you to say a simple truth and yet you were too stubborn to do that.”
Jonathan began to throw accusations and variations of bargaining at the colossal Arab, but his cries fell on deaf ears.
“Well, I guess this is the end,” she said, picking him up and dropping Jonathan onto the floor without ceremony.
“I'm gonna enjoy crushing you, Jonathan! You were the biggest waste of human life I've ever met, and I'm glad to be the one to end it.
John looked up at Kamala in hopelessness, as she raised her foot a few inches off the ground and once again angled it to Jonathan.
“See you later!”
Jonathan resigned to his fate as the bus-sized foot fell on him, forcing him to the ground. Greater pressure was applied to Jonathan with each second until he could hear bones begin to break and the pain shocked through him like lightning.
He screamed and screamed as blood began to leak from him and his flesh flattened out until soon he was no longer human, but was a mess.
“How's this code Ms Abdul?”
“Looks great!” Kamala replied, thumb-upping the new intern, a fellow Muslim in hijab like her, as she worked on programming with the rest of the employees.
Kamala was now the supervisor, and she ensured the company was no longer a plantation, but was a working assembly line.
Nobody missed Jonathan, with the exception of a 97 year-old grandma who kept mistaking him for Jacqueline. The lives of the employees were better, more comfortable without him.
Kamala was right.
John's life WAS meaningless.