A Study in Soy: Goose Uncucks the White Race, Volume I Ryan was glad to give the liberals another sock in the eye, figuratively of course. Someone in his chat told him the_donald posters are racist, yet here he was, in the yellow-man's territory, an asian restaurant, on a mission of cultural exchange. He forked a huge ball of noodles into his mouth, letting them wind around what remained of his yellow never-brushed teeth and slip down his throat. "Delicious! I'm not at all scared of contamination, take that you PC cucks" he murmured, welling up with pride, and let out a chuckle which prompted a couple of enchanting young ladies at the next table to glace over at his direction. They are obviously attracted to me, goose thought, and chuckled out loud again, causing more patrons to look in his direction. Ryan was surprised at how fun leaving the basement could be after seven months inside. Can't wait to tell dad, he thought. He almost brought himself to say something witty to the young ladies but he then remembered the rule, a nine like him shouldn't go mixing with sevens. As goose stared intensely at the girls, who now started to discuss him in a serious tone, he noticed that one of them looked a part asian. She was slender with dazzling eyes but goose wasn't about to cuck the white race, how could he show his face on stream again? "Not to worry, it's perfectly acceptable for a man to get married at forty" Ryan remembered. "Once my genius IQ makes me my first billion that is what I will do. I hope her meals will be as good as this one." Goose continued to splash copious amounts of the mysterious brown table sauce over his bowl of noodles. He finished up with a few final long slurps then went to settle the bill with dad's card. "You real fan of soy sauce I see. You much like" the waiter told him with a wide grin. Goose's world started to close in on him. He felt suddenly faint and thought he saw the walls pulsate. Strange wall hangings with Chinese symbols danced before his eyes. It reminded him of the time he smoked weed and watched hentai with Cosmo. But no, this was just anxiety. Ryan remembered the mysterious bottle of sauce he had used with horror. "Am I a soyboy?" He snapped back to reality. "You are an alpha Ryan" he told himself with a surge of confidence, before striding out of the restaurant forgetting to pick up dad's credit card. "Still, I must monitor for symptoms, soy is a highly dangerous drug" goose told himself, as he walked down the high street toward the safety of home. "Let's approach this scientifically, first things first." Goose pushed his gut to the left and checked for his penis. "Still there. Phew." He looked at his phone. Some beta cuck incel had @'d him on discord. It was time to put a STOP to this cuckoldry once and for all, to put these beta virgins in their place. "CUCK CUCK CUCK" Goose told them, before opening Pokemon GO and landing himself a squirtle. To calm himself down, he put on some Taylor Swift. "Baybeee I know places we won't be found" his headphones screeched. "Ah wholesome country music, how good it is to be white and enjoy my culture. Where was I? Yes. Symptoms. I am 150 IQ, if I haven't found any hint of oncoming homosexuality so far nobody will." He put on a Milo Yiannopoulos video and giggled the rest of the way home at triggered leftist cucks. Goose got home and took his cookies out of the oven, then instagrammed them to post later on samandtolki with an alt. Still a bit nervous about his soy encounter, he made his way to the basement and put on some Alex Jones. An uncomfortable thought intruded "this Jones fellow is an idiot in roid rage". "I'm sounding like a Jew" Ryan thought to himself "why oh why wasn't I more careful" he remonstrated, and refused to pour himself more cola as a punishment for trusting the foreign hordes with his gastronomic needs. Eager to assert his masculinity, he texted Nancy. She would be visiting him in the basement next month. Apparently his living situation didn't matter to her, which was a first. This excited him, but still in a nervous state he remembered never to trust a roastie. "If I am still a man, not a soyboy, I will go my own way." He thought, then unceremoniously dumped this bubble-butt thot by text. Nancy interrupting his daily routine of watching The Bachelor with her sex-crazed texts had been a bridge too far. He quickly posted about it to his subs on discord. Simpjones went wild with excitement. After many admiring emojis from the boys, Ryan felt safe and at home. Immune to the effects of soy and secure in his sexuality, he flipped on the nintendo to begin a day's work. Return of the Soyboy: Goose Uncucks the White Race, Volume II RWhiteGoose woke up in a cold sweat. He had been dreaming about his worst fear. His dad told him to move out from the basement and get a job. But no, he grabbed the headboard post with his sweaty palm, slipping at first then grasping firmly, his firm hold on the shaft mollified and satisfied him - it was just a dream. His fear dissolved with the darkness as he swatted his old nightlight alive. "It must be the soy". Goose's 150IQ brain formed a sound diagnosis. It was he who had been chosen to endure these tribulations, because he was a child of God. One who had, admittedly, spat out "Jesus Christ" many times during his runs like a homo experiencing a phenomenal bumming. Nonetheless, the love of God continually wrapped around him, like a blanket, like the warm blanket his Dad tucked him in with every night. "Never become a cuck son", Dad had cautioned last night, before Goose was consumed by a dreamless prophetic sleep. Goose had awakened with tremendous fear, and he knew with absolute certainty the source of that fear was the soysauce he had recklessly consumed yesterday at the yellow man's palace - Rising Sun Temple Chinese restaurant, to be precise about it. In dark times a man reaches out for God. Goose's hand was waxing itself against the shaft of his headrest, so this wasn't possible. Instead, he grasped in a more metaphorical way for his faith. That is, the faith that with a few more Pokemon Go walking sessions, he would diminish his weight to the extent that he could find a wife. Soy sauce be damned - his manhood remained true! Who would she be? He wondered thus in a morning stupor. In truth it was an afternoon stupor. Goose typically awoke at 12am, all the better for jerking off while Dad was away at work. Social justice warriors wouldn't want him to, of course, but in the absence of social justice came something much older, like the continual lapping of the sea, recurring every night, that is - semen filling his his goldeneye 007 boxer pants at the thought of cosmo getting cucked out of his world records. What a way to awaken, and not a hint of homosexualty! The effect of soy, about which Goose experienced much fear, had not yet touched him in the naughty place. Ryan raised himself from his basement bed and took a look around. No much to see, because of course it was the basement with no view of the outside world. However, he saw, with his spiritual eye, a dark outlook for the United States of Murica. It was because of people (democrats) who want to see the browns infiltrate the land, that Goose had no job. He never let that fact escape his attuned 150 IQ mind. He pictured himself as a pilgrim, arriving on the shore of North America, the water around which appeared soysauce brown to his mind, he enthusiastically kissed the sand which happened, coincidentally, to be the color of Cosmo's skin. He began to suck, suck as hard as any noble member of the Elite race had before, taking the sand deep into his belly. Sleep enveloped him again. No anxiety infringed on his domain. Wheras he had a hard four hours work ahead of him, this was thanksgiving week break, so the work was postponed. Praises be to the most high, and those who splash around in pure virginal waters, damnation to all else. RWhiteGoose was asleep once more. Alpha Male Unchained: Goose Uncucks the White Race, Volume III Goose woke up in the afternoon with a soy-sauce hangover and flipped on the TV to watch another rerun of The Bachelor. What confronted him turned his skyscraper forehead crimson red, even redder than the MAGA hat he tried unsuccessfully to burn with Cosmo's dildo-shaped lighter after Trump had tweeted his support for giving children of immigrants citizenship. The advert playing on TV, for a garden store, signed off with the tagline 'happy holidays.' "Bunch of fucking CUCKS" Goose raged, some spittle hitting Dad's flatscreen. Goose forgot his anger for a few minutes to run around the house looking for tissues to clean up his mess. He didn't find any. As he had told Vir in his discord debate, he found them disgusting and preferred anyway to eat his boogers, to help the immune system. And of course he was nofap, seven years and counting. Saving that nut for his wedding night had helped make him the alpha male he was today. Goose dashed to dad's convertible and fired it up. Revving up to third gear, he headed straight for the garden store showed in the advert. A scratched old Taylor Swift CD lay on the dashboard. At the first set of lights goose jammed it in the CD player. Ah, flower of the white race, Goose thought as Taylor Swift sang "and my daddy said stay away from Juliet". Goose dreamed of sending his own dad to meet Taylor Swift's dad, to defuse this tension and broker marriage, that is - after he had made his first billion on the back of his 150IQ. He neared the store and parked in the lot. Goose put on the same cream and black wool jumper he had worn on every day that he had left the house since 2010. Despite the weight he had put on eating pot brownies, baked according to Cosmo's special recipe, the fleece was still oversized. Feeling empowered and alpha he marched right up to the automatic doors at top speed, they didn't open immediately so he had to pause for a second before entering, he felt cucked, but not as cucked as the manager of this joint was about to feel. He walked up to the cashier. She was a pretty young lady but merely a seven out of ten, whereas goose was a nine out of ten when he was dolled up - as he was on that day wearing his finest wool jumper, his only jumper. "No need to cuck yourself down the sexual hierarchy" Goose thought to himself, saying a little prayer that the lord deliver him from temptation. "Can you call your manager please, and stay true" Goose told her with a wink. She looked puzzled. Goose felt embarrassed, had me misspoke? No- he remembered what he had posted in r/samandtolki, there is a hierarchy of job types and those in service jobs have no self-respect, this bitch being a prime example. This whore was about to be force-fed a redpill. "Listen up sweetheart, I don't have time to deal with your slow female brain, I am not your boyfriend who you probably cuck, I don't have to put up with your shit lady!" She looked disgusted and shocked, and another cashier went to call the manager. "Haber would have liked that one, I better PM it to him later", Goose thought. The manager arrived with a scowl. He was a lanky nerd and clearly not suitable for more demanding jobs like streaming, he had no self-respect either. "This war on Christmas MUST end" Goose barked in his faintly ridiculous accent, wagging his finger like dad typically would at bedtime. "What?" the manager replied with a stupid look of confusion. "This must be a low IQ shitlord" Goose realized. "In your advert you mentioned holidays but not Christmas, are you afraid of CHRIST, who shall one day return?" Goose replied, voice raised. An audience began to gather, "just like my stream" Goose thought with glee. "Sir we wanted to welcome all faiths" the manager replied earnestly. "This is America!" Goose shouted. "It is like the movie 300, and we white Christians are Spartans." The manager's expression of confusion had intensified. "There is no cure for low IQ" Goose thought, realizing this manager must be an immigrant cucking the Judeo-Christian race. Alex Jones could not have got it more right. "I'm out of here Jew boy" Goose spat as security strode up to him with a menacing intent. They were only 5"11 - not enough to make a man, as Haber often told him, but being a preeminent man of wisdom and peace, Goose decided to leave of his own accord. Stepping into Dad's car, Goose signed in to reddit on his phone. He would post about this encounter, but with an alt this time - no need for unreasoning Islamic communist discordben to call him racist - those without the IQ or racial purity would always think that of him, nomatter how he conducted himself. Surfing through the sub, Goose saw a comment by Nancy. It suggested Nancy had donated 1k to ClintStevens. Realising he had lost Dad's credit card yesterday, his financial situation began to worry him, and envy bubbled up. "Hi baby, I just want a girl to enjoy cookies, Taylor Swift's lyrics and warm cuddles with me - how about it?" Dad would never approve this marriage - what was he thinking? He put the car into drive when his phone buzzed. "Hi Ryan, its good to hear from you again, I thought I had done something to piss you off when you stopped responding? You said I interrupted your Dad's bachelor? But I'm sorry I'm with Zack now. He has two toddlers, who are adorable. Playing with them makes me so happy. And the cuddles with him are all I'll ever need, I'm afraid. I'm sorry we didn't work out but I'm sure you can get someone right for you." Goose sped off and chucked his phone onto the freeway. "Cucks and bitches, cucks and bitches - wait till I tell haber." His windshield blurred. Was it rain or tears this time? Pure Alpha: FADE IN WHITE FAMILY HOME - DEGEN HOURS On the hottest night of the Canadian summer, not a creature is stirring. We see the White household, dimly lit by a nearby street lamp. We hear the faint beeping of the N64 Goldeneye pause menu. DISSOLVE TO WHITE FAMILY BASEMENT Ryan White (GOOSE), king of the-Elite and defender of ethics in competitive speed gaming, is winding down his Twitch livestream after several hours of failed Depot 00A attempts. We first see Ryan from behind, staring intently at the CRT monitor; looks like another reset. Chat is shown in a second monitor, visibly “popping off” from an invigorating night of alt-right discourse. CUT TO FRONT FACING CAMERA GOOSE: My friends, I’m shutting down the stream for tonight. I’ve got to pack for our trip to the cabin tomorrow morning. As you all know, I’ll be continuing my series of fireside chats on calling out cheaters in speedrunning. Until then, stay true and leave luck to heaven. Ryan gives himself one last look in his webcam before shutting it down. CUT BACK TO REAR FACING CAMERA Finally alone and at peace after a stressful night of attempts and red-pilling libcucks, Ryan decides he’s earned a reward. He spins up Speedlore Episode 3 Part II: Bunker 1 00A. Ryan lets out a visible and audible sigh. GOOSE: unzips These days, the only thing that gets Ryan off is the sound of his own voice, and it shows. While each successive load becomes weaker and weaker, the ferocity with which Ryan punishes his sin stick only seems to grow stronger as the world record progresses lower and lower. SLOW ZOOM ON THE BACK OF RYAN’S HEAD AND COMPUTER MONITOR. We finally arrive at the speedlore climax, Ryan’s own WR. A highly respectable 1:02. A DC RI RW time. GOOSE: mumbling unintelligible run commentary while savagely masterbating UUUUGGGGHHH Ryan lets out an ungodly moan as he finishes to the proof screen. CUT TO FRONT FACING CAMERA Ryan, visibly exhausted, slowly drifts off to sleep in his computer chair. GOOSE (mutters): pure alpha.