I Was A Man For Halloween This Year
Halloween: it's probably a holiday that was originally designed to oppress women somehow. I can imagine the original "trick or treat" phrase meaning something involving a man's sexual organ -- oops, I mean dick sexrod baby shooter -- and harassment, just like every other holiday in history, including Easter and Christmas. Luckily, thanks to some very small progress in this century, us girls can at least celebrate Halloween without the fear of being impregnated over ten times an hour. Too bad we still have to deal with men talking about the big old game or the shape of their testicles.
That's why this Halloween, I decided to take advantage of the small iota of freedom this male society grants me by dressing up as one of my oppressors! It wasn't even really all that hard: all I had to do was place a few tennis balls in my jeans and I was good to go. That's really the only physical difference between a man and myself, since I grow leg hair and facial hair and take steroids because I'm not a slave to the man system.
Anyway, I decided to go trick-or-treating to show off my costume. It was a fantastic idea, because who should answer the first door I knocked on but a GIANT PENIS (AKA man)!
"Uh...how old are you there, son?" the man asked, which roughly translated into "SEX I WILL HAVE SEX WOMEN I HATE THEM MAKE ME DINNER".
"Why don't you give me some candy instead of oppressing me because of my gender?" I shouted, scratching myself under my arms to show him that JANE = FRIEND. "And I like the Reese's Cups if you have them."
"Sorry, but I think you're a little too old," he said, probably trying to masturbate through his pocket with a third arm that was hidden out of sight. "What are you supposed to be, anyway?"
"Can you stop thinking about sex for one second?" There was just no getting through to this man, who had decided long ago that women should not be allowed to Trick-Or-Treat or ejaculate semen. "Yes, I am a woman. Yes, I am trick-or-treating. Yes, you need to deal with it!"
"No," he said, and shut the door in my face! Of course he would do that, though: a man only understands brute force, not reason!
"OOH-OOH AHH-AHH!," I screamed, running down the street and furiously scratching my groin. "I'm a man, so my stupid behavior is okay! SEX FART BARF FOOD!"
I ran over a kid or two -- which are really just little men who will someday grow up to oppress me, so that's okay -- but since I was so cleverly dressed up as a hormone stew, I don't think anyone cared. A few of their mothers even made primal orgasm noises at me, which is no surprise, considering they couldn't keep their legs closed long enough to keep from being jizzed up by the quarterback.
And really, as much as I blame men, a little bit of the blame should be on the women like that who set the cause back. Women who don't realize that they have a right to abandon their children if they don't feel like raising them, because a man has no right telling us what to do with our own offspring. These women make me want to dress like a man everyday, just so I can smack them around and watch the big game that's on right now that I'm missing, so I have to stop writing now.
