My father was a stern man. He would scrutinize my every action, accusing me of being inadequate. He would lock me up for days, ignoring my requests for fluids by asserting that only the weak thirst. He even whipped me on my first day of Kindergarten, just to teach me about the "cruel world in which we live." Oh, how I despised him. As a result of my childhood I am callous and aloof, incapable of expressing any emotion. To top it all off, my lack of human contact has left me psychosexually infantile. I remain polymorphous perverse; my sexual tendencies are confused and indiscriminate. Yet paradoxically, as my libido is hidden in the darkest realms of my psyche, I am physically incapable of love. Any positive feelings I have for a person are snuffed out by my crippling narcissism.
Fortunately, however, my neurosis is not without cure. You see, I am normally forced to release my pent up aggression and egotism by dealing with a pimp by the name of Lil’ Biggie, but prom is nearing. I will gladly pay the school 75 dollars to release some sexual energy. As Lil’ Biggie always says, " there’s nothing like an immature, yet socially normative, sexually gratifying experience to cure what ails ya." What is considered a social faux pas every other day of the year will be not only accepted, but also tacitly encouraged by the school administration this Saturday. But who’s complaining? It is juxtaposition of sweat, sound, light and shadow. An opportune chance to be introspective, finally conscious of my being, trapped in a cycle of existential angst, a perpetual state of becoming… plus I just really like to dance. The beat is irresistible. An overflowing well will finally be tapped. At last, my teen sexuality will be exploited. In the immortal words of Marvin Gaye, "lets get it on."
1 comment:
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