i am feeling so much injustice. not for my sake because i could hardly care less about a bunch of people i would hardly consider to be significant, but for a friend, who is a victim of the tantrums of what seems like typical pre-pubertal behaviour.
so let me paint you a vivid picture of a fictitious scenario. although as you know, art has a funny way of imitating life.
once, there was a boy called J.
J ruled over a little group of people that he considered his pride and joy. oh, but J had some strict rules for his exclusive little club.
while the rules were relaxed when it came to the physical appearance of the males- possibly because J knew he could never live up to society’s ideals of a physically attractive man, the females were constantly subjected to emotional abuse because they did not conform to J’s version of the perfect female body.
like the cheerleading coach intent on whipping her girls into shape to fit into their standard size zero uniforms, J and his male minions acted as a force to erode the self esteem of the weaker females and make them feel ugly, unwanted, and thus, dependent on his ruling hand for guidance.
at the same time, J and his minions leered at other females, reducing them to sexual objects without ever once considering how these females would easily smolder their pea brains to dust academically.
despite all the hypocrisy, J eventually settled his elitist eyes on BB, who in most people’s opinion, would deviate vastly from the same ideals that J had so religiously enforced on his female friends. although, like the diva J always was, BB was not acquired without much drama. this is another story i would love to tell, because it involves the magic words ‘third party’ and ‘affair’. but let’s save that for another time, shall we?
thus, as much as J would have loved to be seated comfortably on his moral high horse, his crotch was constantly itching from the friction of riding a horse that no longer deems its owner worthy. still, stubborn as a mule, J continued to rule the group, more confidently now, with BB at his side.
eventually the tension was too great to take, with rumours of BB and the magic words circulating, she eventually left the group for greener grass. or rather, any grass that would have her, because she could simply turn it around in future and brag to others that ‘the grass was totally begging me to stay, how could i be so merciless and deny them my company?‘
if he could not keep BB without upsetting the others, it was a sure sign that the rule of J was crumbling. he willed the rest of the group to stay together. like a mafia’s blood-bound contract, no one was allowed to leave, and newcomers had to sacrifice their flesh and dignity to earn the approval of J.
but little did J know. a member of the group, P, grew tired of being subjected to the derogatory treatment. P had made some secret new friends. these new friends were not mere commoners, they were sleeping giants of terror. when unleashed, the tyranny of J would stand for nothing against the havoc and chaos that would ensue. like the Entings from the Lord of the Rings, they are normally peaceful, without so much as passing glance at a person like J if he were to walk past under their enormous branches. but when the time arises for justice to be served, the Entings would spare no mercy. if you want a war, you’ve got yourself one.
P decided to introduce the group to the Entings. ‘more social relations, J, surely there is no harm in that?‘, she pleaded. but J, ever so threatened by the thought of P sitting safely in the branches of the Entings, where he could not dominate her, deftly refused such a request. he explained that it was illogical as there was no need to seek friendship outside this wonderful circle of trust, ‘if you break it, we will break. and surely we don’t want that, do you?‘
word got to the Entings that they were unwelcome, and a storm started to brew in their ancient barks.
‘we shall fight in the name of justice, true friendship, and for every individual’s right to choose his company!’
J never saw it coming. and the Entings made sure death was slow, just like the luxurious amount of time he spent scraping away the dignities and self-worthiness of each and every single one of his followers…
moral of the freaking story: watch out pansies.