Valentines Nonfiction

Recently my most prized pet "Fan" wrote this atrocious piece on my site. In my attempts to humiliate the crazy witch I deleted it from the Vicious Social and I hope the saggy hag drops dead.

 

 

 

 

Valentine’s Nonfiction

 

There must be something to say about the cupid cliché and lace paper heart cutouts and chocolate

underwear but I am at a loss.

Where did the blessed day originate and how? Somewhere somebody gives a crap I just have yet to meet who.

I’m going to go out on a limb and tell a story about the best Valentine I ever received.

I don’t believe it was actually Valentines Day. It may have been sometime thereafter. I was sitting in my new apartment reading a newspaper article. It was one of those commentaries I always like to read by those smartass weekly writers who like to write things they know will get under the skins of the readers. They always made me laugh and I always felt the best ones were the ones that were so blatantly offensive that you could hardly walk away from them without believing on some level that the writer must be full of “yarhoo”. I found it even more particularly amusing that I was the only person I knew that possessed any interest in this type of thing. My piers always looked at me with that blank blinking stare every time I brought these things to their attention.

Anyway, this article I was reading was something about misogyny and feminism or something of the like and it was so well written that I fully enjoyed responding to it in a manner in which would lead anyone else to believe I was truly engaged in my response to the piece. I stood over the thing and ranted and raved about the woman hating pig who wrote the article and how much I would like to see him walking in my shoes if only for one day etc. etc.

I was so excited about the article that I even found myself repeating the name of the author of the article over and over and over as if in some warped moment of climax. ‘What kind of a name is that anyway.’ I said to the paper as I found it beyond my power to put it down. I decided it was time to write one of my first angry letters to one of these writers who do these things for this purpose  in order to promote themselves and I had enjoyed the challenge of searching for this golden  article that to my liking was spicy enough to put me to work on such a prompt.  Up until then, I had been at a loss to do so; so this was truly a ground breaking moment for me.  One that I would inevitably pass up for the one that would render it as a moment that would mark the event as one that would make history in the event that I had invented to look forward to, even into the future of it.

My hands were trembling as I deliberated over what to write. I was feeling almost as if the author must have known me on this level as it was that I had never read a piece of writing that was ever written so markedly strategically towards my personal direction. I felt that he knew what would grab a hold of my skin where it would be possible to crawl right under where, in fact, he still resides to this very moment.

I decided against writing the letter because, yes this is crazy, he mentioned a wife. It bit me with such a sting that I believed that I must be insane or desperately in need of a vacation more than I had allowed myself to admit. I believe, now that what I was failing to admit was that I hade a fetish for a smartass. Quite frankly it frightened me a little.

I wanted to believe I was Susie Sweetheart and longed for the southern etiquette and “bended knee” and flowers and diamonds. While, all of this is true, even more so, what makes my heart pound with the force of a thump is a good strong smartass remark.

My heart still sighs for this writer. I have never had a regret in my life with the exception of this one; I truly believe my life would have been all the better if I had written the letter I wanted to write at that time, to this author, so I’m going to take this opportunity to write it now. Here goes:

Dear Mr. (article author),

I have recently enjoyed the article you have written stating that you have issues with women and the feminizing ideas of their feeble minds. I was truly riveted by the parts about how they would all be better off at the ends of leashes with helmets on their heads to protect them all from the bad falls they suffer from as a result of the natural lacking in capacity that they possess. I must say that even as I happen to be one I found your article to be an inspiration, if not the makings of, a tribute and an anthem to those who support the genderly challenged. Please accept this letter as an invitation to receive my compliments to you on your fine work as an author and a scholar of social behavior and as an anthropological legend as well as a skilled and artful penman.

I want to extend to you my everlasting gratitude for this moment of joy your article has brought me and I am going to refrain from sending it for fear that even as though it feels very satirical I am afraid there is more actuality to it than not. I wish you all the happiness and success in your future as the proprietarily challenged.

Yours truly,

Your wife’s competition

Ah, so there it is readers my pathetic confession of the weakness within my heart of hearts, the true smartass. May you all find your true weaknesses toward the opposite sex or otherwise and have a pleasant and eventful Stupid Cupid Day.

Author's Note

bt don't judge me, I only hate her because she's ugly, I think she's uglier than one of my zombies which I have included in my latest piece. Check it out at Viciouswriters