The River
“Yeah, your baby's father. How'd you meet him?”
Well Sugar, you know how they say 'Just go with the flow!'? They never tell you that sometimes the flow goes too far.
I mean there I was, as always, just taking a relaxing swim in the stream, same as any other day. Then gradually I noticed the stream swirling all around me. At first it was like a big comforting hug. But as the circles squeezed me tighter, I struggled to escape its hold. Yet the more I resisted, the tighter it wound around me. Before I knew it, I was carried to the river.
That's when it all became clear to me. Because I'm no dizzy, if I do say so myself - I got brains. You know - would you believe it - just because I always swim nude in the stream, a lot of guys think I'm a Lucy Goosie, and try to take advantage. You don't know how many times I've had to pry groping hands off my body. So I know that feeling - and guess what?
“What?"
This was that! I knew it had to be the river-god: he was all over me, all around me, all inside me - squeezing, pushing, throbbing harder and harder - and there was no escape. I was carried by his current, ravaged by his rapids, riding his big eddy, wave after wave. I was his prisoner until his desire was satisfied, his spirit energy drained, and his seed planted inside me.
Then, like every other male, god or mortal, after he got That One Thing he wanted, he disappeared - know what I mean?
“I know girl, of course a raping river-god would be a deadbeat dad!”
These days, a girl's not safe anywhere. My schoolmate was gathering flowers in a field when some strange sleazebag comes up and declares that she must marry him. Of course, she right away tells him to go straight to hell. And wouldn't you know it? This was the only time that worked - he took off.
“That saved her?”
No, he's the king of the underworld, so he took her straight to hell to be his queen. Worse - she later found out he's her uncle!
“Oh, my God!”
That's right, you guessed it. This god was her father's brother. And her father even helped his brother to kidnap her!
But wait - it gets worse...When her mother goes out looking for her, another uncle rapes her mother!
“No, get outta here!”
If I'm lying, I'm dying!
“Yuk - her father's brothers were a pretty bad lot!”
True, but this was her mother's own younger brother! A real nasty piece of work that one - he once raped a girl on the floor of a temple. When the temple goddess saw this, the punishment came swift and harsh - to the girl! The goddess changed her to a monster. Yeah honey, watch out for these goddesses who screwing us too - that's what's really meant by 'gender equality'.
God or mortal, men are still men, and women are merely the playing field they trample on in their sport: if he doesn't 'score', he's called a 'loser'.
The Woods
Now let me tell you how my boy's troubles began...
Even at birth his beauty astounded all who saw him. But, for his peers, the sparks only started flying after their pubes started popping, if you know what I mean. Before that, his school days were just nonstop taunting:
“Hey River Boy, who's your daddy?”
“Screw you River Boy, you must think you're a god's gift to the earth!”
Any wonder that he grew into a loner?
But by the time he hit sixteen, when his boyish charm became crowned with virility, all hell broke loose.
Suddenly, as if they were charmed by some magical spell, the hearts of all kinds of young men and ladies were aflutter with the lust they called “love”. Love? They knew nothing of him, because he always kept to himself. They only saw his beauty and were obsessed by it - yet they called that “love”!
But my boy was not like other males - not running around trying to rack up 'scores' with girls. And he didn't want to be touched by guys' grubby hands either. They say he was too proud but actually he never took on airs, just simply continued keeping to himself - unfazed by their sudden eruption of sexual delusions.
So when one of these wild-eyed stalkers shows up on our doorstep, screeching and carrying on about his “love” like a horny alley cat, we tried to ignore him but he just wouldn't stop his whining and pining. And who could we go to for help when everyone believes it's wrong to refuse suitors?
So finally, out of frustration, my boy goes out and tells him straight away to drop dead. And wouldn't you know it? This was the only time that worked.
“He took off?”
No, he killed himself right there. Now, just because this psycho's emotional regulator was on the blink, my son got a bad rap with some of the gods. I guess they'd rather see him follow in their rapist footsteps.
Even though that incident set off endless chatter around town at the time, the story now has been almost forgotten - maybe because a male's desire for a boy is not talked about as openly now as it was back then.
But you've probably already heard the other story that people never seem to get tired of retelling...
My boy was gathering deer in the woods when the strangest of these stalkers sneaks up, following him step for step.
But the poor girl had issues. A while back she naively got involved in a couple's domestic affairs - and stupidly sided with the male half. Always a big mistake, but monumental in this case because we're talking god and goddess.
So when the goddess finally realized the girl had been using her gift of gab as a cover for hubby's ho-humping, the punishment came swift and harsh. Not to hubby of course, but to the girl: she kicked the girl's captivating power of speech straight to the curb. Yeah honey, watch out for these goddesses who screwing us too.
While following my boy in the woods, this lovesick virgin dreamed of approaching him and opening her heart to him, to win him with the sincerity of her feelings with this poem she wrote:
So, emboldened by passion, she opened her mouth and let her heart speak:
“Hey Big Stuff, come get a mouth full of muff,
Sweet Mama's hot and can't get enough!”
Embarrassed that her words did not come out quite as planned, yet intent on expressing her heart's desire, she tried again:
'Hey Sugar Stick - come here quick,
Lady Cumgums'll grease your groin gooey!
Ram it up my poop-chute, cream my bowels,
Till I fart out your man-milk
Come on sweetie, do me!'
Again, she felt her words had diverged quite far from her feelings.
“Alas, as often happens, soul-mates kept apart by a language barrier”, she reasoned.
Resigned to her fate, she hastily retreated to a cave.
But hers is not a completely sad tale. Communicating to others through the cave's WiFi, she went on to create the wildly successful website talknastytome.com. And I hear she'll be sharing all the details of her journey to success in her upcoming self-help book: How to Talk Dirty and Influence People.
But, once again, my son got a bad rap for yet another encounter with a stalker with a loose screw.
The gods destroyed her charm as punishment. Then when my boy was not charmed by her, they punished him too.
The Clear Pool
That was the anthem sung by the local youth back then. You could find their curse scrawled in graffiti all over town.
They cry that they're starved for meat because the animals are too selfish to be captured. This is the gospel of gods and men: that it is the duty of the powerless to submit to the desires of power.
And so their prayers to the gods were answered. No need for me to repeat that absurd tale of River Boy's demise after gazing upon his reflection. I mean, please - ask yourself:
How could it be said that he was cold to others because he was vain and too proud of his beauty, if he'd never even seen himself before?
So why is this ridiculous story endlessly retold?
Each generation must be taught how far they can go - River Boy's withered body serves as an out-of-bound marker. His destruction is emphasized, while the power that caused that destruction is glossed over and forgotten, leaving the impression that it was his flawed character that destroyed him.
No - he was destroyed as punishment. What was his crime? At the ripe old age of sixteen, he dared to ignore the lust of others, not be a rapist, nor a breeder for the Empire's labor pool, nor some old geezer's gunsel, but to remain a virgin - an ice-cold smack in the face to this decadent social order.
In another society he might have been held up as a model of restraint and temperance - a son that makes his mother proud. But here, he had to be punished.
Before his example could spread around, he had to be sent stone cold dead in the ground.
And not a day passes that my heart doesn't feel the loss.