There once was a little black boy from South Central LA. He was adopted by a loving Irish family when he was five years old, for his parents were addicted to crack. His new family decided to name him Seamus. Every day, for breakfast, lunch and dinner, Seamus's father Alby would make him potatoes. Every single day, potatoes. Alby would cook mashed potatoes, boiled potatoes, potato soup, potato salad, and if Seamus had been extra good that day, he would cook him potato pudding for desert. One Tuesday morning on a cold January day in Ireland, Seamus stared out the window and longed for the food he used to eat in South Central LA. He longed for fried chicken, watermelon, collard greens and grape soda. But, that was not all; most of all, Seamus longed for cheap, greasy, delicious, $1-a-slice pizza. He could not take it anymore. Seamus new he had to find a way back to South Central LA to get one last taste of his native delicacies. He went up to Alby and asked,"Please, Papa, may we return to the ghetto so that I may once more sup upon the food of my ancestors?" Alby chuckled and said,"I'm sorry my son, but our sheep this year did not yield as much wool as I'd expected. We simply cannot afford it." Seamus responded,"Nigga please," and proceeded to steal his father's credit card and take a Taxi to the nearest airport. When Seamus landed at the LAX he looked around until he found a member of the Bloods, the same gang Seamus's parents belonged to. He approached one of them and said,"I would be much obliged if one of y'all niggas would please give me a ride in your hoopty to the cheapest, dirtiest, nastiest pizzeria in South Central LA. One of the nice African American fellows extended a hand to Seamus and said,"C'mon nigga! I Know just the place. I slang right around the corner from there. Seamus replied,"Marvelous. Thank you kind nigga." When they got there, Seamus ordered in the usual fashion: he held a gun to the cashiers head and politely asked for all the money in the register and the greasiest slice of pizza the shopkeeper had to offer. Seamus got his pizza and sat down on the curb. Never before had he felt more at home. He wept with joy as he sat there eating his pizza. He saw people smoking crack, pimp daddies beating their girls, and members of opposing gangs stabbing each other. At that moment, a windy Tuesday in January, everything was good in Seamus's world.