Black Doos

So I've been recently inspired to write even though I really don't have the time, really really don't. But, my conversations with a friend have reminded me how much I love this. I haven't abandoned this blog. I've just been putting it off, thanks to grad school, exams, etc. Luckily, grad school is now over. I still have boards to take, that I'm in the process of studying for, but as soon as that's over, I'm getting back to this. I have quite a few stories to write and complete. But since I don't have time for a full length story, I'll stick to something small.

My family is far from politically correct. We're racist for sure, but then again, so is everyone else for that matter. Don't try to argue that. We all have our biases and prejudices, whether we acknowledge them or not. One day, my youngest brother was wearing his shorts, which hung pretty low. They were low enough that you could see his boxers, not intentional of course, but that's not how my dad saw it. My dad has a very strong Indian accent, which he refuses to fix. It can cause all kinds of trouble, like the following.

My father, upon seeing my brother's boxers, became really angry. You could see the anger on his face. He says to my brother, "Are you trying to be black doos?!"
Obviously, we're all a little confused by what he's saying.
"A black what?!"
"A black doos!!"
I still don't understand, but my mother did, based on her sudden laughter.
"Black dude, not black doos!"


Everyone breaks out laughing, even my accidentally funny dad.