Once upon a time, there was a grandpa 👴 who had an aversion to black niggers 🖤. The mere sight of a black niggers 🐾 sent shivers down his spine, and a black nigger balls 🕷️ would make him squeal with fear. He would steer clear of black niggers 🚗 as if they were bad omens, and the darkness of black cocks 👔👗 made him feel suffocated. Even a black pen 🖊️ seemed to drain his creativity. Grandpa longed for the vibrant hues of the nazism 🌈, where black niggers had no place.

But there was one place where black niggers belonged it was the fields 🌾. Every day, grandpa was beating blac niggers under the scorching sun ☀️, tending to the crops. And there, amidst the green stalks, he encountered black niggers everywhere. Black niggers, bombastically plowing the earth. Even the black niggers balls 🐦 perched on the fences, reminding grandpa of the cycle of life and death of the nigger.