This story is one of hundreds Colin Flaherty planned to publish in a book before his death. American Renaissance will post one a week.

Years ago, my family went to Wichita for a visit. We were a couple of blocks south of Wichita State University and my children wanted to stop and buy some juice to take with us. I hadn’t been to Wichita in about ten years at that point so I wasn’t aware that many things had changed. I went in and my husband stayed outside with our children. I picked up some cups and immediately was surrounded by a group of black teens who identified themselves as “the Junior Boys.” They were touching me all over. Two of them had their faces on my shoulders and were kissing my cheeks. I didn’t understand their “lingo” except for when they asked if I was, “Down for a gangbang with the Junior Boys?” It was like having an out-of-body nightmare. I wanted to scream that I was old enough to be their mother but I was so terrified that not a sound would come out. I left without buying anything.