Tag Archives: rape

Freakshow


I ran away to join the circus,

thinking I might fit in better there.

But when I arrived,

the ringmaster looked at me dubiously

when I told him I wanted to be part of the Freak Show.

Clearly, he wasn’t able to see my obvious freakdom.

When I tried to explain,

he nodded, as if he understood.

He wrapped his crimson-clad arm around my shoulder and said,

“Let me show you something.”

He guided me past the bearded lady,

who sat combing her legendary whiskers into a intricate braid.

Past the snake woman,

whose glorious scales twinkled amber and teal in the sun.

I thought he would stop by the two-headed man,

whose twin faces smiled kindly at me,

but he seemed to quicken his step instead.

Past all the other human curiosities we walked,

until we were standing outside of the colossal striped tent.

Only then did he wave his white-gloved hand

toward the crowd awaiting to see such oddities.

He pointed to one man in particular;

a man who, after a first glance, not a soul would remember.

He was plain, and insignificant.

“That man beats his wife.

His second wife, now. He killed the first one.

That child there,”

The ringmaster pointed to an adorable boy about ten,

whose hair stuck out in mischievous tufts.

“He tortures small animals,

before cutting their heads off and burying them in a hole.”

He nodded toward a middle-aged woman,

her ridiculously-enhanced breasts threatening to expose themselves.

“She,” He said, almost affectionately,

“has been married four times.

All of her husbands dead from old age.

She now preys upon younger men half her age.”

My eyes had begun to open;

he continued.

“That girl there,” a young lady, very pretty,

“was raped by her cousin,

her uncle,

and her father’s friend.

She has told no one of her pain,

but will kill the next man who is unfortunate enough to try to touch her that way.”

He looked at me then,

his eyes searching mine, before he asked earnestly,

“How can you join the Freak Show when you’re already part of it, baby?”

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Filed under Beauty, fiction, Humor, Life, Poem, Poetry, Sex, Uncategorized

Dream Rape


So, I would like to state that I have never found the thought of Ashton Kutcher naked a charming or alluring thought. Which may be the reason I was greatly disturbed upon awaking from slumber last night.

Let me explain.

Ashton made an appearance in one of my dreams last night. Sadly, I was going to write about my other dream, which was truly frightening, but it seems to have slipped my mind. So you get the Ashton dream.

I don’t really remember the whole thing, except that I had just moved into an apartment that resembled a Motel 6 room. (Creepy.) There was something having to do with hiding from some people who were after me, and then- there was Ashton. Apparently he was in the same situation of hiding as I. So here we were in this tiny apartment place, and then we were doing it. Very rambunctiously, I might add.

(I will clear up here that I have had only 2 other sex dreams in my life- one of them being not actual sex, but a dream with a shirtless Chris Meloni, so the fact that I started going at it hardcore with Ashton Kutcher in a dream has shaken me to my core.)

While we were making the bed bang up against the wall, (I said hardcore, and I meant it.) we were laughing and giggling, and then I heard a voice in my head say, “You guys are too in love, you’d never be able to make a porn outta this.”

(I wish to be clear again, I am NOT in any way in love with Ashton.)

But after the voice in my head said that, (I’m glad the voices make appearances in my dreams too and not just in real life) I started thinking, I bet I could get Ashton to shave and cut his hair and resemble someone who is not a goon. Why would I think THAT in the middle of him sticking his un-requested boner in me, I wonder?

Anyhoo, that’s all I can remember of my dream, but again I maintain that Ashton Kutcher raped me in my dream. Even if I DID enjoy it.

P.S. If it would have been the sexy Calvin Klein model Ashton of yesteryears, I perhaps wouldn’t have minded so much; but it wasn’t. It was the un-washed scruffy version of Ashton from Two and a Half Men. Blech.

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Filed under Entertainment, Humor, Life, Uncategorized