"Okay, let me see it," I said to the drunken bar slut.
"See what?" she inquired.
"This gold-plated vagina of yours. I'd like to actually verify this
fact," I replied.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, psycho," was her response.
"Lady, if your labia aren't covered in precious metals, then neither
yours nor anyone else's are as special as you like to think," I
explained to her. "Everyone seems to have this idea that they're
unique, valuable, or otherwise worth something above what the other
six billion humans are. The fact is, you're not. You're
interchangeable and ultimately, you're just going to rot like the rest
of them. You can throw out those thoughts of personal dignity because
we both know you're going to go for another idiot who spent more money
on clothing than I did. He's going to get you knocked up and beat you
a few times. Maybe you'll get some sense into your head and leave
him, maybe you won't. Maybe he won't actually hit you, only sleep
with your best friend behind your back and ignore your needs. Either
way, you WILL find yourself wondering where you went wrong. And I
still won't give a damn about you, because you're just one more hunk
of wailing meat to me," I mused.
Then three frat boys kicked the shit out of me for talking to a woman
they decided should be theirs, if one of them got the courage to
approach her.
