[Media prompt] Teens filmed, mocked and laughed while man slowly drowned.
It rained early on, which made the air smell like dough, but it soon cleared up. By the time the crowd started to build, everyone said it looked like the best weather in years for it.
The finalists came down to the lake at one o’clock, the same as always. There was a lot of ill feeling this year between them, the Crips, BLMs and the 24th Street Crew, all over turf. The night before, there had been a drive-by, but only one death, nothing serious.
They had the retards in cages, about a hundred yards from the shore. One of them, a young woman, looked normal, and people started saying it wasn’t right. The other two, both boys, were noticeably slow witted, sitting contentedly on their stools, oblivious to the attention they attracted. But the girl was frightened, asking in voice tight with anxiety what was going on.
When the BLMs discovered they’d drawn the girl, there was almost trouble. The judges walked up the embankment to look her over, the captain complaining all the way that if she had an IQ above 55 it would be impossible to get her into the water.
The judges spent five or ten minutes probing her, finally reassuring everyone that even though the girl might look normal she was, as far as intelligence went, the same as the two boys. Which is to say incapable of independent thought. She was a natural drowner.
By the time they got the first retard out to the pontoon in the middle of the lake, it was after two, and dark clouds were forming over the hills in the west. The Crips, who many believed shouldn’t have been in the finals at all, enticed him into the water quickly enough, but their taunts as he drowned were so unoriginal that people booed before they finished.
The 24th Street Crew started strong. The retard stepped off the pontoon into the water as soon as the horn went. Their drummer and singer worked in unison to provide the kind of false hope that keeps the mark splashing and groping towards the shore for what seems like forever. The taunts were by turn hilarious and utterly degraded. By the time the boy sank beneath the surface, many were saying the game was over.
Getting the girl to the pontoon went without a hitch. The BLM captain positioned singers at opposite ends of the lake to confuse her when the horn sounded, and it looked as if it would work when she slipped and almost fell in. But she scrambled back onto the decking, refusing to budge, sitting down with her back to the crowd.
In the end, they resorted to a swimmer, who had to wrestle her into the water and hold her head under until she drowned. There was no honour to it, and it spoiled the afternoon. More than one commentator insinuated foul play in retard selection, but you have to put your trust in the judges. Otherwise it’d just be anarchy.