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A random story
In my mind, I am a hero. I’m courageous, intelligent and modest. My biceps bulge underneath my shirt, and my washboard abs feel like cement. But in real life, I’m nothing like that. I look like I’m pregnant, and I’m dead serious when I say that. The bulge looks as if a baby were going to pop out any moment. The only thing I’m missing is long hair, long eyelashes and boobs, and I would have random people down the street asking me when the baby was due. Now people just look at me wondering how a prepubescent dike as ugly as me ever got laid.
I get dirty looks everywhere I go. I had one old hag come up to me and start telling me that I could still find Christ even though I’ve made mistakes in the past. I told her off. Not lightly either. I told her I was a midget of 35, and had been trying to get pregnant for 10 years. After that I decided to spice it up. Not only was I a 35-year-old pregnant midget, I was also raped by a man who shortly thereafter killed my husband. It wasn’t my husband’s baby, and now I have to care for my husband’s murderers baby. She looked dumbstruck when I told her this, and then started to cry. She said Christ could solve all things.
“Tell him to bring my husband back...” and then I walked off. I’m a jerk, I know, but these Christians are like crack addicts.
I’m actually at the hospital right now. The bulge had started to appear over the last month, and it was growing fast. At first I ignored it, thinking I was just eating a little too much and getting some extra pudge, but it kept growing. My parents didn’t even care; I don’t think they’ve even noticed. So I decided I would go to the hospital by myself. I took their keys and drove all the way here. Believe me, it was difficult. I’m only 13 after all, and I had never driven to the hospital before. Especially not with a belly that stuck so far out, my arms could barely reach the wheel.
I walked up to a lady in scrubs and she smiled at me, I smiled back. Dang she was cute. If only I was 15 years older and didn’t have a belly that stuck out like I was pregnant.
Lo, and behold, the first thing she says is “Ahhh…is it a boy or a girl?” My smile immediately faded, seeing this, hers did too.
“I’m a 13 year old male with a stomach sticking 2 feet out. Tell me what it is so I can go home and kill myself before whatever this thing is becomes painful.” She stares at me with a blank look on her face “Hurry up, woman!”
Her frown deepened and she looked at my stomach. “You don’t know what it is?” I shook my head. “When did it first appear?” I mumbled ‘a month ago’ and her eyebrows shot straight up, and underneath her bangs, I swear they reunited with the rest of hair and never came back down. “Follow me…” she commanded and I obeyed like the obedient little monkey that I am.
We swerved through corridors until we reached a door and the nurse stopped. “Wait right here.” What service! Ignorant slag.
A few moments later the door opened and a doctor immerged with the nurse. “Drop your pants.” He said it, and I knew it wasn’t a question. And besides, how often do you get to show off your manhood to a pretty little nurse? I’ll just ignore the old man in front of me. I stared at the nurse and smiled and dropped my pants, and then took my underwear off too. The nurse tried to ignore the fact that I was smiling at her. I could see her checks light up like Rudolph’s nose.
“Yup, definitely a male. You can put your pants back on.”
“Are you serious? That was to see if I was a guy?”
“Is there any other way?”
“Asking?”
“You could’ve lied.”
“Why would I tell you im a girl?”
“I dunno, ask the guy behind me.” Somewhere behind him I could clearly hear a man imitating a schoolgirl’s laugh. My pants put themselves back on.
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Art is a lie that helps us see the truth
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