The name is Oliver Pierre. A young Haitian student currently enrolled at Emerson College in the city of Boston, Massachusetts. And this right here is my story. In these troubled times, most people are too busy running around like chickens with their heads cut off to notice that foul human trait called wickedness is taking over. Morality is a thing of the past. The power of religion is crumbling. Who shall lead humanity out of the darkness? Lord only knows. I'm a person of faith, a devoted Roman Catholic living in a den of heathens. The state of Massachusetts. The most liberal place on the planet. Life is far from easy for someone like me. A deeply conservative sort who believes in boundaries.
I notice these things because I'm a watchful person by nature. I wish the rest of the people in my fair city could see the wicked things that are happening right now. The wicked are everywhere. Sexual immorality has taken over and it's definitely here to stay. The perpetrators of sexual immorality are everywhere. And I can't stop them, beat them or even slow them down. They're far too numerous. Sometimes I think their numbers are greater than the stars. What hope is there for someone who fights the lonely war against them? Not much hope, I'm afraid. So I decided to join them.
I was invited to a special party by my good friend Jerome Dorvil. He's a tall, lean and dark-skinned young Black man who plays soccer for Northeastern University. He and his girlfriend Ramona Domingo Rodriguez are the coolest Haitian-American students I know. They're wealthy, and very attractive. Ramona is one foxy mama, if you'll pardon my French. The daughter of an Haitian-American mother and a Puerto Rican father. The result of this union was a uniquely beautiful young lady. Standing five feet ten inches tall, curvy, with light brown skin, long Black hair and pale gray eyes. The gal has one hell of a booty. It's thick and round. And quite pleasant to look at. She used to play Volleyball for Boston University until a leg injury ended her career during her junior year. The athletic department honored her scholarship until her senior year. If you ask me, she's bounced back quite nicely.
It was Ramona who first approached me. She and Jerome came to Emerson College to visit her cousin Josephine. We ran into each other at the cafeteria. I sat there, all by myself as usual as I ate my meal and read my Spiderman comic. In case you haven't guessed it by now, I don't make friends too easily. Ramona looked at me, smiled and asked me if I wanted to join her and her people. I stared at her, stunned.
Usually, gorgeous young women like her didn't notice tall, dark and nerdy gentlemen like myself. I didn't care to socialize with most of the people I encountered while in college. I found most of them positively boring. Many women and men dogged me for being essentially a religious fundamentalist. Others didn't like me simply because I was a talented Black male student bestriding their nearly all-white college campus. And some were turned off by my accent. It's not a good time to be a foreigner in the United States of America. I can't help it, though. I'm Haitian. I speak French, Haitian Creole, Spanish, Portuguese and a bit of German. And I'm proud of my origins.
For all these reasons, I was often all by my lonesome. That's why I feel fortunate to have hooked up with Jerome and Ramona. They showed me around, and we explored the wonders of Boston together. I am quite the loner on campus. My grades are top notch. I've never fallen below 3.9 as far as my GPA goes. That's what won me an academic scholarship to Emerson College in the first place. Having good grades and being a tall, good-looking Black guy didn't exactly make me a popular person on campus. I just didn't click with most of the young men and women I met. We just didn't have much in common. Skin color had nothing to do with it. I'm a foreigner. A stranger in a strange land. For this reason, I walk alone.
