Today I was innocently walking through the supermarket on the way to its pharmacy to get my bottles of prescription ointments refilled, but I was immediately affronted by the most fear-inducing spectacle that you can imagine. In an eyeblink, the blood rushed to my face and turned it from a veiny cherry-red to a veiny deep crimson as I began to quake with primal rage.
There was a portly middle-aged man in a white hat and apron standing behind a glass-fronted counter. Strategically arranged at crotch-level, the counter was filled with hideous, OFFENSIVE things which were calculated to intimidate, threaten and humilate poor innocent womyn!
These filthy tools of harassment were diabolically masquerading as things like “All-beef Genoa salami”, “Polish Kielbasa”, “Garlic bologna”, “Pepperoni”, “Bratwurst”, “Cheddar-wurst” and “Lil’ smokies”.
The array of psychological weaponry was vast and varied. There was row upon row of so-called “Frankfurters”, “Thuringer Summer Sausage”, “Andouille”, “Chorizo”, “Bierwurst” and “Braunschweiger”!
It was a heinous vision right-out of my wildest recurring nightmares!
“HOW DARE YOU!” I hollered as I jabbed an accusing finger of righteous scorn towards his pusilanimous face. “How dare you intimidate me and remind me of my inferior social status!”
“What?” He oozed.
“YOU ARE ONE SICK FUCKER!” I exclaimed. “Trying to compensate for your inadequate member and hatred of womyn’s liberation! You surround yourself with phalluses and foist them upon my eyes in an obvious attempt to brag of your fecundity and advertise your patriarchal power!”
The bastard blinked. “Come again, miss?” He burbled in a sickeningly easygoing voice.
“Oh, you’d LIKE TO COME AGAIN, wouldn’t you?” I screamed, attracting a small crowd. “You’d like to COME AGAIN in my velvety-smooth vagina with the arsenal of fascistic rape modalities before you!” I was so shocked by his impudent hate-speech that I was now beside myself with fist-clenching apoplexy.
“What, the olive loaf?” He blinked and gestured downward, forcing me to choke-back my bile anew. His tone of voice suggested he was so accustomed to having his way with poor female passers-by that he was genuinely surprised the instant a “mere girl” dared to turn the tables and speak-up for once.
Little did this crass patriarch know that I was no “mere girl” but a strong liberated GRRRRL who takes no guff from no one!
“I bet you can’t even GET IT UP now that you’ve been confronted by a tough-talking, firey, fearless, independent bitch who has a brain of her own! The game is up, stop the pathetic ‘innocent sales-clerk’ routine, I know exactly what you’re thinking!” I suddenly turned to face the crowd. “This ASSHOLE was sexually-harassing me! I haven’t been this offended since I walked into that cigar-shop last week!”
The crowd murmured. My victimizer feigned shock, as if he didn’t even know what I was talking about- the swine! The ape! The animal!
I immediately tried to lead the crowd of shoppers with rousing chants of “One, Two, Three, Four! Take your penis out the door!” to no effect.
I stormed-off to the store manager’s office. Thank Goddess, it was a female manager. I pounded on her desk and thundered that a foul patriarch had viciously humilated me with his calculatedly offensive gestures and lied dirty lies to get himself off the hook. The manager expressed puzzlement that a so-called “model employee of nineteen years” would act in such a fashion.
I instantly began screaming that she was a “cock-whipped, servile stooge of the oppressors” who was blaming the victim. I also refused to stop smashing the trinkets on her filing-cabinet until justice was served.
Within five minutes, the harasser-dipshit was fired. And quite deservedly so! Score another point against the oppressors! Tally-up another victory for all womyn worldwide!
Sisters, let me tell you– it’s becoming far too dangerous for us vagina-warriors to go-out in public. We’ve got to TAKE BACK THE DELI!