Thursday, December 22, 2011

Cruelty, Thy Name is Woman

I know it must be obvious to you, dear reader and brothers of the blade, that I am the walking, talking, ass-kicking embodiment of manhood, but women in all their hollow ditzy-ness fail to accept this undeniable fact. Allow me, dear blade brothers, to recount a personal experience to illustrate my point. Specifically, the experience I speak of was an encounter with a particularly diabolic female, I will call “Breasts” to conceal her identity and because I don’t remember her name.
Well, prior to this particular day, Breasts and I had been on good terms, seeing as how she was the clerk at my favorite Video Game/ Bare Knuckle Glove retailer, THE GAMEHOLE. Moreover, on numerous occasions we had flirted with abandon. To give you just a taste of what I mean, when I bought the new SIM Sex Trade she commented:        
“Wow, that seems explicit.”

I know!! She couldn’t have been more obvious if she took her bra off right then and there. But that’s not all! On one occasion, when I asked her to retrieve a game (Whore Wars II) from the top shelf, I realized mid-retrieval that my father didn’t raise no charity case, and so I thrust out my head-smasher-Dew-clamp to get it my damn self. Naturally a little flesh grazing resulted. If that doesn’t scream Take Me Now, I don’t know what does. (I mean this rhetorically of course; skin contact is an invitation to carnality in every civilized society on this earth).       

Well, anyways.  With that much sexual tension you’d think that Breasts would be cool with a little upping of the ante, but you’d be wrong! Women in their cruel and fickle way would crush your perfectly reasonable expectations. What do I mean? At the end of some sexy banter (occasioned by my purchase of Intercourse Reloaded), I nonchalantly bounced my eyebrows, flashed my smoke glazed pearlies and romantically gestured the old in-out with the index finger of my right hand and the thumb-index circle of my left. Did Breasts respond appropriately by setting a date to realize my love vision or even with a simple approving giggle (as custom dictates)? NOOOOOO!!! She turned into a malicious harpy and demanded I leave the store, and threatened to call the cops! Can you believe it, dear readers?

The worse part? I will have to get my game fix from that shit hole in the mall. Where’s the justice in that? Mull that over, dear blade brothers, and see if you are not more receptive to what I shall proclaim next.

There is no longer any doubt that all women (with rare exception) are agents of the waxy ghost, or are in some way complicit in the Alien Conspiracy.