Pym: A Novel by Mat Johnson:
Garth leaned down and whispered firmly into my ear, “I told him we’re Republicans. Black. Republicans. Got it?”
“What? What are you talking about? Why are we naked?” I had many questions, but this seemed the most pertinent.
“Contamination, dog,” was Garth’s answer.
“Contamination from what?” I must have yelled on that last word, because just then out of the turquoise bush beside me hopped an Easter bunny, clearly startled. Albino and obese, it darted its nervous red eyes in confusion at the scene.