Beaver Cleaver hung up his confederate flag in the front of his house. "I love racism," thought Beaver, and he did. He was so racist since his black wife left him for a Chinese man that she worked with at the T-Mobile Store and also later at the Walmart. And also she took all of the half-black kids that they had made together.
Just then a car rolled by, and the car slowed down, and the window rolled down, and then a bunch of marijuana smoke came out of the window, but then the window went back up, and the car sped away.
"I wonder what that was about," thought the Beav.
The phone was ringing and Beaver ran into his house. It was the same house he had grown up in. His father, Ward, left it to him when he died, which was just a few hours ago. He had real bad cancer, but he had actually died from a wild dog attack. Wild dog attacks were on the rise around town, and The Beav though he knew why. "Could it be?" thought the Beaver. The local media was totally silent about it.
"Mystery," said a voice that only Beaver could hear in his head. But that phone was still ringing, so the Beav ran for the phone, and he tripped over a pile of wards old stuff that Ward had piled up in the middle of the living room right before he went outside and got killed by all those wild dogs.
"Fuck!" exclaimed the Beaver, but then he threw his hand over his mouth. His father, Ward, did not allow that kind of talk, but then the Beaver remember that his father, Ward, was dead, and he relaxed. Then he noticed a bunch of crud drawings of penises in the pile of Ward's stuff. All the crud drawings were signed Ward.
"Those are dicks," said the Beaver.
The phone stopped ringing, and then it exploded.
Beaver had not always lived alone. He had a father, Ward, who was killed by a bunch of wild dogs. That happened recently. He also had a mother and brother, a long time ago. He couldn't remember their names, but he remembered how they died.
Beaver suddenly got so anger, and his racism flared up. He ran into the street in front of his house, and he thrust out his thumb, and started to hitchhike. Hours later a monster truck drove by, but he didn't stop. He just kept going.
"You son of a bitch," thought Beaver, and then he said it out loud: "You son of a bitch."
The monster truck circled back around, and then it slowed down. Inside was a white businessman with robotic eyes. "Get in," said the white businessman with robotic eyes.
It took the Beaver a long time to get into the monster truck because his weight was 350lbs, but eventually he did, and then the monster truck took off. The music playing inside of the monster truck was fucking awesome.
"The music playing inside of this truck is fucking awesome," said the Beaver.
"Thanks," said the white businessman with robotic eyes. "It's my band, Creep Master. This song is called Slam It Down."
"It rocks, Brah," said the Beav. But then the Beaver realized that the music was Slipknot, a popular radio band, so it wasn't Creep Master, and he also realized that the white businessman with robotic eyes was, WimBimWim, a robotic man with human eyes, the very same robotic man with human eyes that had murdered his mother and brother all those years ago.
"Looks like this is to be the final showdown between us," said BEAVER.
"I just got out of prison this morning," said WimBimWim. "And now after all those years in prison I'm going to finish what I started."
"And what's that?" said the Beav.
"That, my dear Beaver," said WimBimWim, the robotic man with human eyes, "is the murder of the entire Cleaver family."
"I understand," said Beaver. "Just let me listen to the rest of this song. It's my last request. Your band is so good."
"I can't say no," said the robot.
Then the song ended, but it had bought Beaver just enough time to come up with a plan. His plan was simple; take out his gun—he had a gun in his pocket that he carried with him everywhere to commit racist hate crimes—and shoot WimBimWim in the only part of him that was human, his eyeballs.
Beaver aimed careful. It was so intense. And then he pulled the trigger. It was like in slow motion because it was so climatic. And then the robot's eyes got a bullet right in them.
"My humanity," screamed WimBimWim, and then he died.
The monster truck was out of control, heading right for a political rally for justice and racial equality because the cops were killing so many innocent blacks so often. Then Beaver thought of all of his half-black kids, and he had a huge change of heart.
"All this racism is wrong," said the Beaver. "I can't give in to the dark side of hate like WimBimWim, even if he did have more followers on twitter than me." And Beaver grabbed the wheel, and he jerked it hard, and the monster truck missed all the protesters and when right off a bridge and fell a long way.
"Looks like this is the end," said the Beaver.