Kurt Vonnegut is grand.
Her virgin skin was ceremoniously uncovered, to be keenly molested, ravished at the hands of another intently violating the pure existence of a life free from the positionally articulated displaying of her nakedly exposed flesh, of which now, debauched markedly in a penetrative violation of her life encompassing organ, was strikingly sensitive to touch, regardless of follicular hirsuteness.
As she lay there tensed, wincing, and with teeth gritted in an attempt to put out of her head what was happening to her body in the pain induced transformation from fullness of purity to the now existential stimuli of having to bare witness in life exposing fashion, the only thought to enter Paula’s mind regarding her well exposed and now stained, repeated penetration by a stranger was indeed, “Was a kitty cat wearing an astronauts helmet the more suitable choice, or should I have gone with a tattoo of me getting a tattoo?”
Paula had rationalized ‘Sputnik Kitty’ to be the perfect metaphorical representation of a great milestone in her rapidly changing life environment. It was, after all, her first skin inking, and like Sputnik, Paula envisioned further advancement from a single life changing event revolving around her blossoming world. Besides, as her favourite cartoon character had been remarking since early childhood, of which was now a literal transformative event, it was with great glee that Paula, as she gazed upon herself in the bathroom mirror of her new apartment, found it too hard to resist, in Tweetie Bird like exclamative utterance, “I know I see a puddy tat, I do, I do!”
15 Minute Shitty
As she opened her eyes to an already sunlight smothered apartment of eastward facing orientation, Paula could feel no ill effects from the libational celebrations of a bottle of rosé the night before. It was warranted after all. A new city, place to live, and what seemed to be a great new career, of which the first week had gone off without a hitch. Not to mention the fact that Paula was allowed to work from home all five days of the week in a newly created federal government position of Climate Change Operational COVID Wellness Analytical Data Surveyor & Investigative Nuances Generating Observational Variances, or C.O.C.W.A.D.S.I.N.G.O.V. for acronymic ease of representational verbalization. It is all multiple choice to say the least. Does one sign in then go back to bed? Perhaps partake in a wake & bake doobie extravaganza? Does one even put on pants, or underwear for that matter? Maybe rub one out or flick the bean on repeated hourly intervals? Engage in a pint of vodka with lunch routine? Coffee break with a line of dummy dust motivational inhalation?
Oh right, Paula. Saturday it be, and in order to get out of the house and attempt to meet some new friends Paula was signed up for the extracurricular activities of joining an all-women’s gym/yoga studio, and feeling bold in her new surroundings had signed up online after seeing flyers looking for other adventurous women to join a newly formed roller derby league, besides, Paula had rollerbladed since being a child, so roller derby might be right up her lane. Men can be pigs after all, so it was sure nice to engage in strictly feminine activities. Matter of factly, Paula’s previous relationship had, she’d like to say, grown to become abusive, but in all reality, from inception, was a powder keg of explosive nature. It seemed Paula was just not able to make a wise choice when it came to men, and the thoughts of a same-sex relationship had been frequently stirring around in her bi-curious mind.
Paula entered the Flighted Bird gym/yoga studio on Saturday afternoon in order to claim her awaiting membership card and go through the official club rules and receive the guided tour, it seemed in her mind that the receptionist was exuding somewhat of an indifferent attitude towards Paula’s introductory presence. She thought to herself,” It is probably just because I am the new girl in town, things will get better. Maybe Betty is single too and fears my competition for single men around the 15 minute city we now live. On second thoughts what if Betty is a lesbian and finds me attractive, where giving me the initial cold shoulder is really a tell of her being attracted to me? This could be my sapphic fantasy come true, I had better not fart or do anything else to put her off!”
It was tough being the new girl in town. All the eyes in the gym seemed to be ogling Paula as she exited the change room in her spandex workout attire. “Surely they can not all be lesbians, do I really give off that vibe?” she thought to herself, “well, I have always been quite tall and proportionally toned, tight and thin, not to mention in the possession of quite a large pair of boobs, surely a bit of envy maybe on their parts.”
Engaged within her workout, the sense of attraction to her presence continued unabated, Paula had caught one of her fellow exercisers staring tentatively at what seemed to be her exposed midriff inhabited by a softball sized ‘Sputnik Kitty’ graciously launching in rear legged fashion from a yoga pants footing towards the space crater belly button on her planetary existence. “Nobody else here is sporting any tattoos, though how could that be an issue in the progressive age we live”
After working out and changing back into her street clothes Paula noticed a group of the women intently chatting back and forth on the opposite side of the gym and figured the best thing to do would be to go over and explain about her being new in town and how she had joined the gym in hopes of striking up some friendships. After all, honesty is the best policy, and maybe at least one of them would be intent on going out for a drink, or perhaps some Cookie Monster cheesecake in the desserterie up the street. It was now Saturday evening after all. Well, as it turned out, all the other women were intently busy that evening.
Paula walked out into the street and a spark of depression began to strikingly manifest in her smoulderingly tinder dry kindling of internally fired stoking. And as Paula stopped at aforementioned desserterie of cheesecake magnificence for a dessert before dinner and one roundel for the road, of her new routine, she thought out loud, “Looks like it will be an exciting night of informational bliss, leading with some CNN and rounding it out with a reality tv watching marathon in true to life likeness in the televisional logic and wisdom building apparatus of modern day progressive and life formative sensibilities.” So another bottle of rosé came to fruition, as did the Skipping of the Dishes in the short walk home in what had realistically become a 7 minute city of confined blissfulness. Television, drip, drip, drip. Paula reassured herself consolingly that everything will be just fine, “Tomorrow, while I am out treating myself to a new bottle of perfume and some designer feminine hygiene products, I will keep an eye out for the new mopane worm street food cart that I have read about appearing in the neighbourhood. I think it was called The Buggery.”
So watch tv Paula did, she had found a fabulous docudrama explaining how all of the worlds problems were associated with it strictly being the “rich” peoples fault. Poverty, hunger, climate change, sexism, illiteracy…..and when the segment featuring Donald Trump queued up, Paula’s temperature skyrocketed! “There he is, the mascot for public enemy #1, those stinkin rotten “rich” people. If it weren’t for them, my life would be so much more interesting and exciting. Then I could have that money and do all the things I ever wanted to do. I would never have too work again, I could travel forever, meet celebrities all over the globe, make myself perfect with plastic surgery, feed every starving child in Africa……”
Yes, just as every self delusional schemer living in their fantasy world has done and will continue to do well into the future, you know, that, it is all other peoples fault as to the position one finds themselves in and has absolutely zero to do with the life choices one has and continues to make, Paula briefly fell into the FTW routine, until that second glass of wine began to kick in that is. “I wonder what The Housewives of Langley Virginia are up to? One thing for sure, they are most definitely wearing the pants around the house!” And as Paula pressed that clicker to find out about said poop-slinging spook-fest extraordinaire, her “smart phone” chimed that email inbox notification: I tawt I taw a puddy tat! She did, She did. And Paula liked it not.
The email notification had let Paula know that the inaugural roller derby practice tomorrow would be cancelled due to a lack of interest. “What a bummer, if only there were a gaggle of braver women out there like me. If I had all those “rich” peoples money I would pay other women to participate! And end illiteracy while I was at it.” There was much less resistance as Paula poured that third glass of wine. “Tomorrow is another day, and I am going to splurge on new perfume and those Gwynyth Paltrow designer sanitary products, oh, and maybe I will meet the man of my dreams along the way ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️!
Time For Some Dick!
As Paula walked down her three minute street in anticipation of a right angled saunter of a rewarding two and a half minute jaunt to the cosmetics section in her local Globalist owned department store, out of the side of her eye, across the street she had noticed a buff, tattoo covered woman riding her bicycle with a pair of roller skates draped across her shoulders. Paula’s heartbeat began to race, “Now she is my type, and she knows how to skate too.” That book that Paula had read which was set in the paradise isle of Lesbos, Greece came racing back into her mind. “One can only dream!”
Just about to enter her 6 minute department store, the city bus drove by, and on it stood two women engaged in what seemed to be an excitingly glorious conversation. They were not as pretty as Paula’s tattooed bicycle fantasy, but they too had a pair of roller blades, and the other a pair of roller skates flung over their shoulders. Curiously odd. This was the morning for the roller derby practice, “Perhaps they never received the email.” Paula could not resist, she could make it to the roller derby locale in just a few more minutes on foot.
When Paula arrived to the roller derby rink it became aware that there was indeed an event about to transpire. Women were strolling up and entering the building with gym bags and roller skating footwear of both kinds. Then she noticed Betty, and a couple of other women from the Flighted Bird gym congregating outside the front door. They were chatting alongside a few other men. “Maybe one of the guys is single, or has a friend that is” So Paula walked over to say hi.
“Hi Betty, it is nice to see someone I recognize, are you here for a skating lesson? I was supposed to be here for a roller derby practice, but I was emailed last night to say that it was cancelled.” Betty’s face blushed slightly, “Yeah, yeah, a skating practice” Betty retorted. Just then one of the guys of the group introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Clint,” as he reached out to shake Paula’s hand. Paula looked down upon Clint and reciprocated the gesture. Paula had always been a tall girl after all, and Clint was no skyscraper himself. As Clint carried on with Paula in conversation, Betty and the other ladies excused themselves and went inside the venue. The other men stayed behind and introduced themselves to Paula in kind. There was Paula, alone with three men, handsome men, and the sole focus of their attention at that. And just minutes away from her new apartment. Paula thought, “This could get interesting.”
And hot and heavy it sure did come. Clint was the first to make a move,” Listen Paula, my girlfriend Sonya was working out with you at the gym yesterday and she could not help but notice that you had something very interesting going on at belt height.” Paula came to remember the woman checking out her ‘Sputnik Kitty” tattoo as she did squats in the gym. “Oh that is my new tattoo, I call him Sputnik Kitty” and Paula lifted her shirt to show Clint and the others her toned tummy and hitchhiking kitty. Clint and the others grinned from ear to ear.
“Actually, it was a bit more than ‘Sputnik Kitty’ as you so call it,” Clint piped up. “Sonya told me that you had a massive raging hard on that was all too visible through your hot pink yoga attire.” Looking perplexed, Paula let her shirt conceal ‘Sputnik Kitty’ and in blushing manner fired back, “I am a bonafide woman, how dare you!” “I have never been so offended in my life” Paula exclaimed! “Well, you are not going to like what I have to say next,” Clint let it know.
“Listen “Paula,” you appear to be around six feet four inches tall in a one hundred and eighty pound frame, have an Adam’s apple that would make Andre the Giant jealous, possess a six o’clock shadow, and have a pair of breasts that would make any mere mortal refer to you as ‘tits on a stick.’ Can you honestly determine yourself to be a full functioning female?”
“Paula” had to think for a moment. “Well, maybe I am not a female, but let me reassure that I am all woman Clint. And I am six foot five, not six foot four.” In reality, Paula always was a tall “woman.” And a tall man too. “I possess a pair of nuts, but that in no way qualifies me as a squirrel does it Paula?”
“Listen Paula, let’s not turn this into a mud slinging fest. The reason we are having this conversation is because what happened at the gym yesterday traveled around town at warp speed, and Betty manages the roller derby league and so recognized your name and personal information on the registration list. Basically, every woman was asked whether they wanted to partake in a woman’s contact sport with a Goliath of a man that possess fully functional and non-controllable male genitalia, and ultimately seems to be unaware of the awkward position that you are forcing into the lives of ultimately very respectable and down to earth women, females, mother’s, daughter’s, sister’s while deserving of likewise companionship on their equitable terms. Let me assure you, if you walk in that door, they will all be walking out. That is the end of that Paula.”
“I have been quite respectful here. Though before we part ways Paula, can I ask what your birth name was?” Paula seemed to have taken it well enough. The water works did not come out for public display. “Richard, Richard Swaddle. No middle name” That’s right, Paula was indeed literally a big Dick. All six foot five of “her” tits on a stick protuberant dimensional representation.
Turning to walk that eleven minute stroll back to her new apartment Paula thought “Looks like it will be another rosé night for me. Two bottles should do, after all, I work from home everyday, I’ll just sign in and go back to bed. Whacking off and being paid to do it. If those C.O.C.W.A.D.S.I.N.G.O.V only knew the half of it. Maybe I will come across The Buggery on my way home.”
So walk home Paula did, smart phone in hand, going back to “her” old ways: TRANS&DENTALMEDICATION.COM. And as Paula had reached 3 likes by the 4 minute mark, she swiped left and could already taste the remaining half of her Cookie Monster cheesecake roundel waiting for her and her new beau in the fridge of her new apartment. And as Paula pushed the button on her 20 second voyage to the 13th floor of her new apartment, it became clear in “her” endorphin flooding mind, “He is sure going to appreciate having a sturdy place to sit as he motorboats my bazongas until the C.O.C.W.A.D.S.I.N.G.O.V come into my home.”
One never knows what ENDPOLITICIANS.COM is going to serve.