The Domestic Terrorist - Make Her Scream

THE EXTRA INCHES

Occasionally, I fall into a moment of opportunity so great, so enormous, that I really have no choice. You never know when these moments are going to arrive. But you know the old clich�, never look a gift horse in the mouth. I don�t know what that phrase means, (does anybody), but I�m fairly sure it means something.

Anyway, I had a moment like that today. I opened up my Hotmail account, and found the kind of email that you get maybe one email in twelve. A rare opportunity then, to be sure.

Addressed to my email address � which is an unusual spelling of my name, I was told directly that my name was �mrmarkreedcghyxyz�, and that I could �make her scream with an extra 1 to 3 inches�.

Now, I don�t know about you � far be for me to speak for anyone but myself � but I�ve never replied to any piece of unsolicited spam in my life. Not even when I had 1543 copies of the same mail on the same day.

Proof then, or another clich�, that if you throw enough spam, it won�t always stick.

SCREAMING INSIDE

But, if there�s one thing I know for sure, it�s that if I don�t like women screaming in my ear when I�m with them. So I don�t want to �make her scream with an extra 1 to 3 inches�. And what if I prefer men to women? Someone�s got to. I�m just glad most people who prefer men happen to be women. And I�ve never really understood quite why I�d want an extra 1 to 3 inches.

An extra 1 to 3 inches of what? Though the thought of making her scream of an extra 1 to 3 inches gives my hyperactive imagination gland a mental image of something out of �Evil Dead 4 : The Extra Inches� � standing at the mountain, chopping it down with the edge of my hand �

Why would I want an extra 1 to 3 inches?
Why would I want to make her scream?
What kind of person would that make me?
What kind of person would that make her?

In answer to the last two then, not necessarily the type of person I�d want to be or know. The type of person that would only be interested in me because of the extra 1 to 3 inches. The type of person who wouldn�t be interested in me for my personality, or my wit, or my charm, or any of the other things I might or might not have. The only thing she�d want would be given to me by a surgeon or created by three months wanking off into a retro suction pump.

And besides, those of us that are hung like a dormouse, know for a fact that size doesn�t matter. Wit, charm, and a good shirt will take much further than a surgically-enhanced banana stuck down your trousers.

THE MENTAL IMAGE

In fact, the only thing that would make her scream � and not in a good way � would be the image of whomever it is discovering her partner sat in the bedroom with some weird suction device clamped over their genitals, trying to engorge their adequate members to match their ego and vanity.

What type of person would I be if that was the only way I could attract women? That by the way is a rhetorical question � it answers itself. I�d be a sad man trying to prop up his collapsed ego with a pathetic string of shallow, meaningless encounters with people who only recognise parts of him instead of who he is : if there is anyone inside there underneath the artificial construct.

So I think it�s fair to say that if you�re going to indulge such things, the organ you should be working on is your brain. That�s the most erogenous zone there is, isn�t it? Use your brain.

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