Once upon a time there was a white man. He could do what ever he wanted because he was a white man. This white man had a white woman for a wife. She was good at cooking, and was a victim of other people’s problems because she was a white woman. They had two children with runny noses, and since they were American children they were brats. The couple had some fat relations. These relations were sloppy and terrible at sports, because they were fat people. Some of the fat people were rich though and this changed the relevance of neatness or glamour and sports. The wife had a fat black friend, a woman, who was not rich. This fat black woman babysat the children, for extra cash since she did not make much money at the obscure sport of discus throwing. Even though she was fat, she could be good at sports because she was black, which sorta trumps being fat. It would be easier to change her weight than her financial position so there was no point in being skinny since she'd never be rich. The white man and the white woman weren't rich either. But they had richer relations and appeared more well off then they were, since they were white and paid attention to detail.
Now in this story there is a friendship, seemingly impossibly so, between the white wife and the black babysitter and discus thrower. The white woman was skinny, and appeared rich even though she wasn't. So the women were both victims, since that's what society dictates. Yet on totally different levels. The wife gave the discus thrower plates toss high into space. It came to pass that the white woman and her husband had only paper plates to eat from.
This made the white man very angry, and when a white man gets angry something has to happen, and some women have got to roll. So obviously they got divorced and the brats went to live with the babysitter temporarily.
The wife was no longer the wife so she lost her identity. She thought being a white man was pretty nice, you get to get angry and make things happen. So she cut her hair very short. Luckily since she was skinny it wasn't too hard to tape down her breasts and wear boy jeans. She couldn't totally pass so she became a dyke. Not that she freaking cared about sex one way or the other. She just wanted a little bit of what was not contained in "divorced white woman, with two brats"
She moved in with the poor fat black woman who was taking care of her kids. They were friends, and miraculously, perhaps because this friendship is the only non-stereotype thing in this story thus far, or perhaps because of the new dyke's generosity with plates, the friendship did not fall apart under the stress of the predicament.
This made the man furious, and he stormed into the house one night and tried to rape the black woman. The new dyke took a knife from the kitchen and stabbed him in the back. The black woman took the knife out of the dead man's back and threw it to kingdom come. The police came and took the black woman away, since it was obvious that it was her crime.
The two snotty nosed children were very upset that their babysitter was gone and with much ado a legal case was born. They were able to get her free and to absolve guilt with the self-defense act, but this time the friendship did not survive.
The two women went their separate ways to heal far from the dynamics of the web of stereotypical interactions that had flung them like discs that are sport to shoot at.