Monday, July 28, 2014

Fifty Shades of Satire (Chapter 11e)

After throwing up, I'm practically bouncing out of my chair with glee as I read the message that Christian has emailed me.
 
From: Christian Grey
To: Anastasia Steele
Date: 7-28-14
 
I'm sending you this via email because, as everybody knows, email is the most secure form of correspondence. There's not been a more secure form of communication since the mega-phone. I'd hate for any of this to be made public, like that unfortunate video I made with Kim Kardashian. Or was that Paris Hilton? I get the two of them mixed up, since they look so much alike.
 
     Eh? Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton look nothing alike.
     Ding!
 
Christian: From my angle, they did.
 
     How does Christian do that? It's like he can read my mind, or something.
     Ding!
 
Christian: Far from it, my dear. I know so much about you, Ana, and yet I know so little. 
 
Me: What would you like to know, Christian?
 
Christian: I'd like to know what makes you who you are. What were your parents like?
 
     My parents. Hmm...
 
Me: My parents, they always fought about the silliest things. The last time I saw them argue, they were fighting over the toilet plunger. My father didn't like being hit with it.
 
Christian: Well, that explains a lot.
 
Me: It explains what?
 
Christian: Like why you've never been on a date.
 
Me: I, too, so have been on a date, I type angrily. I remember my first date very fondly. I was so excited. My date wasn't as excited as I was, though. He never showed up. But what about you? Tell me something about yourself.
 
Christian: Well, I love fat chicks, baby. No matter where you grab them, it's like you're grabbing a boob. It's your turn, now. What was your first job?
 
Me: Well, believe it or not, my first job was at Hooters. I worked in the kitchen.
 
Christian: Your favorite food?
 
Me: I love a good burrito. They're like sleeping bags for beans. I used to like to drink carrot juice with them, but then I realized that carrots don't have any juice. What the heck had I been drinking all those years?
 
Christian: I've noticed, Ana, that there's not much you won't put in your mouth.
 
Me: Is that a bad thing?
 
Christian: Not from a man's point of view.
 
     I'm starting to get tired of Christian's arrogance and the feeling of superiority he wields over me like some kind of wieldy-thingie. It's time to bring him down a peg or two.
 
Me: How would you know what a man's point of view is? I mean, other than the fact that you're a man, of course.
 
Christian: Ana, dear, I didn't mean to upset you, but everybody knows that sex is God's cruel joke on humankind. As a man gets older, he loses his natural horniness. As a women gets older, she gets hornier, but, unfortunately, by the time that happens, her virginia is already past its expiration date.
 
Me: Are you saying my virginia is past its expiration date?
 
Christian: I'm not saying anything of the sort. I'm just saying that women don't age like wine. They age more like milk. You might drink a glass of milk that's past its expiration date, but, trust me, you won't enjoy it as much.
 
     Crap, the guy makes sense.
 
From: Christian Grey
To: Anastasia Steele
Date: 7-28-14
 
Knock-Knock!
 
Who's there?
 
Urine.
 
Urine who?
 
Urine secure, aren't you?
 
     What?
     Well, I never. I'll show him that two can play at that game.
 
From: Anastasia Steele
To: Christian Grey
Date: 7-28-14
 
Knock-knock!
 

From: Christian Grey
To Anastasia Steele
7-28-14
 
Who's there?
 
     "Idaho," I write.
 
     "Yes, you certainly are," he writes back.
 
 
Fifty Shades of Humor
jimduchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene
 

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