A skilled and prolific racist, Wendell Franks is a seventy-nine-year-old retired store clerk from Osceola, Wisconsin. And, despite social pressure from both his family and the “god damn liberal media,” he has no intention of modernizing his bigoted views.
“Why should I change now?” asked the old prick. “Because my granddaughter is dating a black?”
Indeed, Franks’ granddaughter Kelly is currently romantically involved with an African-American college student named Arthur, a point of contention for the grizzled bastard.
“I don’t even like bringing Arthur around anymore,” Kelly said. “But, hopefully, Grandpa will soon be dead.”
Kelly’s remarks echo the sentiment of her family at large.
“Rather than try to change his views,” began Wendell’s daughter Barbara, “I’ve simply begun praying for his death.”
The stubborn son-of-a-bitch has no motivation to oblige his family. While his ability to think critically and use basic emotional empathy have never developed to average human levels, the rest of his body remains healthy and vibrant.
“I hope to stay alive and continue spreading narrow-minded hatred, one of my favorite activities since the 1940s.”
Franks reportedly also enjoys dominoes and bingo. But not with the “cheating Mexicans.”