Based on a True Story:

Once upon a time, in a land far-far away, (Michigan State), there lived a young vixen, who was somewhat of a bitch. Even in a place as plentiful with bitches, this one stood out. Realize, when I say bitch, I don’t mean of the canine variety, but rather a filthy, frothing, whore who would chew off your testicles if the money was right.
Our story begins outside the halls of what has been called the “Brojects,” one of the dirtiest and most STD infested dorms on the filthy land of the Michigan State Campus. Rumor had it that a foul contraction of Gonorrhea would invade your body by merely touching the doorknob of this establishment. Obviously, our Bitch comes from the “Brojects.” Our Bitch, whom we shall name Jenna, was out for a stroll one golden autumn day in September trying to score some blow. Jenna had somewhat of a reputation on campus for giving it out. Jenna was a kinky one, she often used handcuffs, whips, chains, and dare I say it, tennis racquets (I know, it’s awful!). Jenna was in the mood for something much different this evening, however. She felt like a big, greasy bag of Lay’s Potato Chips. They say the same slogan applied to Jenna, “You can’t eat just one.”
On her way to the liquor store Jenna encountered a male suitor. He was dressed in the finest of wife-beaters, drenched in his manly sweat and stench. Jenna then remembered something from a long time ago. Back in kindergarten, Jenna met a young stallion named Jimmy John who forced his 12 inch meaty “sub” on her. Jenna’s mother knew that she had raised a slutty whore, and had given her a shimmering, silver rape whistle. It was passed on from generation to generation and was considered an heirloom in her family. She was told only to use it if she was certain that she was going to be raped. Ever since Jenna had received this whistle she had longed to use it. Now, at this juncture in her life, with a grotesque man approaching her she whipped that sucker out, and blew on it for all her life. Within seconds a Scottish leprechaun jumped to Jenna’s rescue, dressed as a policeman. The leprechaun whose name was Jake asked Jenna, “They’re after me lucky charms!?” The dirty man ran away in fear, and Jenna felt satisfied with her blowing.
Jenna knew she had done an awful thing, but just didn’t give a fuck! So she went on her merry way, now looking for some smack. She suddenly came to a beautiful, emerald pasture. The sun was just setting and the scene resembled a stanza from a Robert Frost poem. She found this strange because everyone in East Lansing is shit-ass-poor. As she was standing before this majestic site, a man approached her wearing the finest of silks from the Men’s Wearhouse. He was clothed in a tuxedo and bow-tie and looked very smashing! The man, whom we shall call, Manuel (Man-Well), grabbed Jenna by the arm and began to forcefully insert his manhood (Man-Hood) into her. She did not want this at all, and began yelling and blowing on her whistle so that the man would not rape her. This time no Scottish leprechaun dressed as a policeman showed up. Jenna was very sad that she had blown her whistle too early. But then, she recalled something she had heard as a young slut-in-training, “Better to have blown once, then never to have blown at all.” At that moment, the disguised man who had cloaked his raping intent under a sophisticated tuxedo, took it off, and revealed his “Muck Fichigan” shirt. Jenna began to tear up. Then she shit herself. To top it all off he gave her the most humiliating sexual maneuver known to all of mankind, the gorilla mask. She never blew that whistle again.

THE END


This post was originally written by Poete
University of Michigan · Drama · 15 Dec 2006