I walk in an see him sitting there. I feel him looking me up and down, with his silent stare, taking note of my wrinkled clothes.
"Whatever, dude, you don't know me," I start. "You don't know my story, and you know what, little man? I'm fully aware that I'm wearing the same outfit from last night. Its not a 'Walk of Shame' just a 'Walk of same.' You think that you can sit there, all sanctimonious and judgey just because you are in tight with the big man up there? Well I've got news for you, buster, it feels super nice to be naughty and I'm not going to be slut shamed by the likes of you. Just because you decided to sit at home at watch ABCFamily all night doesn't mean that I'm required to endure it's cavalcade of shitty romantic comedies staring A.C. Slater. I'm an independent self-empowered woman. I'm like Diana Prince! Thanks right, asshole, I compared myself to Wonder Woman, and you know why? Cause that bish gets what she wants, and she don't need a man to feel fulfilled. She'll call up Steve Trevor for a bootie call then be like, 'check you later' afterward. Empowerment! So fuck you, you judgmental little prick!"
I stride over to him and smack his silent little face. He falls off the little shelf that he was perched on and hits the ground. I'm worried that he might be concussed, but then I see a copy of an old Hustler magazine fall from his pocket.
"Whatever, dude, you don't know me," I start. "You don't know my story, and you know what, little man? I'm fully aware that I'm wearing the same outfit from last night. Its not a 'Walk of Shame' just a 'Walk of same.' You think that you can sit there, all sanctimonious and judgey just because you are in tight with the big man up there? Well I've got news for you, buster, it feels super nice to be naughty and I'm not going to be slut shamed by the likes of you. Just because you decided to sit at home at watch ABCFamily all night doesn't mean that I'm required to endure it's cavalcade of shitty romantic comedies staring A.C. Slater. I'm an independent self-empowered woman. I'm like Diana Prince! Thanks right, asshole, I compared myself to Wonder Woman, and you know why? Cause that bish gets what she wants, and she don't need a man to feel fulfilled. She'll call up Steve Trevor for a bootie call then be like, 'check you later' afterward. Empowerment! So fuck you, you judgmental little prick!"
I stride over to him and smack his silent little face. He falls off the little shelf that he was perched on and hits the ground. I'm worried that he might be concussed, but then I see a copy of an old Hustler magazine fall from his pocket.
"Uh-huh, figures," I say, gingerly picking up the magazine. Its pages worn and sticky. "Isn't that always the case with judgey bitches like you. When you point your finger at people, you've got three more pointing back at you!" Then of course, I start to think of my date with Ryan Gosling last night. I'm going to start calling him "Yellow Pages," cause he sure knows how to let his fingers do the walking.
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