Hey, I know what you're thinking: I shouldn't be writing one shots when I have three open stories, but this plot bunny wouldn't stop nibbing on my toes until I wrote this down. Anyway I hope you like this. It isn't necessary to have heard the song "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist", from Avenue Q but if you haven't you should, it's hilarious, and it makes the story funnier.
Disclaimer: I don't own RENT or Avenue Q and I would like to apologize to God for having to use his name in vain, something I try to avoid as much in possible, both in real life and in fic, but it was necessary for the story.
Mimi walked out of the bathroom with one of Roger's towels wrapped around her head and one of Mark's wrapped tightly around her tiny frame. Both boys' eyes followed her briefly before turning back to the show they were trying to watch on the staticky TV.
"What are we watching, Davy Jones?" she asked plopping down in between Roger and Mark on the narrow couch. Roger turned and looked at her quizzically.
"What?" she asked defensively, grabbing a tube of lotion off the tiny, littered coffee table. "We never do the nickname thing. Or would you prefer 'Crockett'?"
Mark snickered. Roger grimaced. "Jones is fine. And we're watching 'Masterpiece Theater'." It was Mimi's turn to stare. He held up both hands.
"Don't look at me. 'The artist formerly known as Pookie' over there won't let me change it." Mimi turned to look at Mark, squirting some lotion into her hands.
"I like 'Masterpiece Theater'!" he protested. "Look they're talking about a ballroom dancer - Tina Marquez." He glanced at Mimi. "Relative of yours?" Mimi gasped and stopped rubbing lotion on her legs.
"Mark! I'm surprised at you! I find that racist." Tiny rage spots appeared on her cheeks. Roger winced and scooted out of her way.
Mark's eyes widened. Damage control, he thought desperately. "I'm sorry! I was just asking…"
"Well it's a touchy subject. No, not all Spanish people named Marquez are related. Why, what are you saying – we all look the same to you? Huh? Huh? HUH?" She punctuated each "huh" with a hard poke in Mark's chest.
"No!" he stammered, rubbing his chest, and scrambling for the armchair. "I'm sorry, I guess that was a little racist.
"I should say so!" Mimi said, picking up the lotion again. "Think before you open your mouth next time!"
"Well, come on, I mean, look who's talking!" Roger pointed out, coming to his friend's defense.
Mimi rolled her eyes. "What are you jabbering about?"
"When you and Angel are together you talk in Spanish to each other and don't tell us what you're talking about!"
"Well duh. That's for us Mexicans only…"
"Hah!" Mark spoke up triumphantly. "You see! You're a little bit racist!"
Mimi opened and closed her mouth. "Well you're a little bit too!"
"I guess we're both a little bit racist."
"Huh."
They sat for a second contemplating. Then Mimi spoke up.
"I think everyone's a little bit racist sometimes."
"Yeah," Roger agreed. "But it's not like we all go around committing hate crimes."
"Yeah!"
"We all make judgments based on race." Mark said thoughtfully.
"Yeah, but not big judgments. Just things like…like wishing the guy who owns that Chinese place down on 81st would learn to speak some god-damned English!" Mimi muttered.
Mark and Roger both nodded vehemently, Roger wincing as he remembered a recent incident involving the contents of an egg roll.
Suddenly the phone rang and Mark answered. "Keys? Coming down." He listened for a second. "No Maureen, I'm not going down, I said the keys were coming down. That's Joanne's job now." He rolled his eyes and hung up the phone. Then he walked over to the window and threw the keys out without even looking.
"And some ethnic jokes are hilarious!" Mimi said continuing the conversation. "Even if they're wrong."
"Yeah!" Roger exclaimed. "Hey, stop me if you've heard this one: there's a plane going down, only one parachute and there's a minister, a rabbi…"
"And a black guy!" Mimi finished gleefully. Just then the loft door slid open.
"What you talking about, Mimi?" Joanne asked, crossing her arms.
"Er…" Mimi stammered.
"You were telling a black joke, weren't you?!" Maureen asked indignantly. "No one makes fun of my Pookie's race!"
"But Maureen, everyone tells black jokes!" Roger said.
"I don't." Joanne pointed out.
"Well o course you don't, you're black," Mimi snorted. "But I bet you tell Jewish jokes!"
"You got that right!" Joanne laughed.
"See!? You're racist!"
"Well you're racist too!" Maureen sprang to her lover's defense again.
"Exactly!" Mark said. "We're all a little bit racist."
"Well damn," Joanne said thoughtfully. "I guess you're right." They fell silent again.
The phone rang. Mimi picked it up, dropped it, walked over to the window and tossed the keys out.
"Christ, Mimi. Could that towel get any shorter?" Maureen whistled appreciatively as the dancer walked back. Mimi smirked and waggled her hips a little.
"Down girl," Joanne admonished. "And now there was a fine upstanding black man!"
Roger looked confused. "Who?"
"Jesus Christ."
"Nooo," Roger said slowly. "Jesus was white."
"No, Jesus was black."
"No, I'm pretty sure Jesus was white."
"Black!"
"White!"
"Guys, guys!" Mark yelled. "Jesus was Jewish!"
They all looked at each other and then burst out laughing.
The loft door slid open once more to reveal Collins and Angel. "What are you guys laughing at?" Collins asked.
"Racism!" Joanne yelled.
"Cool!" Collins exclaimed. (He was a little buzzed.) Angel just looked skeptical.
"Uh, yeah, racism. Muy comico."
Roger laughed harder. "Moo-ey? Like a cow?"
"Like Elsie!" Maureen shrieked with laughter.
"Hey!" Collins said defensively, "Don't laugh her! How many languages do you speak?"
"Collins, honey, that's okay. They were just joking," Angel patted his arm.
"Yeah, come off it Collins!" Roger chuckled. "Everyone's a little bit racist!"
"I'm not!" he protested.
"No?"
"Nope. How many Latino lovers have you got?"
Roger brow furrowed and he glanced around at the others. "Um, one. And Collins, buddy, where you been? The term is Hispanic."
"Yeah, honey. I prefer that to Latino. Oh, and technically, it would be Latina."
Collins looked horrified. "I'm sorry honey! I love you!"
"That's okay!" Angel reassured him. "I love you too!" She hugged him. Then she had to detach his hands from her ass. Collins was a horny drunk. Actually he was just horny period.
"But, honey, you're racist too," he pointed out.
"Yeah, I know!" Angel snickered, plopping down on the couch. "The Jews have all the money, the white's have all the power, and I'm always stuck in a taxi with a driver named "Ali Baba" who doesn't shower!"
"Me too!" Mark said.
"And me!" Mimi added.
Joanne and Collins looked at each other. "We can't even get taxis!"
"I guess everyone is a little bit racist," Roger said.
"Maybe if people would just accept that we could all get along!" Maureen said. They all nodded.
"Everyone's a little bit racist," Collins repeated, trying it out.
Angel and Mimi looked at each other. "Si!" they laughed. "Cado uno un poco racist!"
Gee, I hope I got the Spanish right, I used an internet translation page. If I got it wrong, feel free to tell me.
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