Charlies Journal

Congratulations, mankind. We fucked up big time.

There are rumors that the whole thing started as a biological experiment deep in a South American lab, somewhere. Others called it a military weapon designed underneath the streets of New York City. God bless the USA. Hell, I've even heard one person postulate that some geek in a Harvard lab accidentally discovered what became conventionally known as the Perfect Male Supremacy Virus. The PMS Virus. Isn't that cute?

How the hell do you accidentally create a virus that killed 99.6% of the entire female human population? Were you making a new form of birth-control, Harvard? Guess what . . . you did it.

Whatever caused this mess, we do know one thing for certain. We can't blame this one on God. Congratulations, mankind. We fucked up.

About ten years ago, sexually stimulated women started feeling the most terrible of cramps. It hit suddenly and the insides literally burst, killing the poor gal instantly. That's just not right. We finally get our woman to get off and her guts detonate from the inside out.

It didn't help the PMS Virus killed entirely too many woman before anyone knew what was going on. I wonder how many of the ladies lost it while making love for that very first time. I wonder how many discovered they were infected with the PMS Virus while fingering themselves in the shower.

That's where I am, right now. In the shower. My name's Charlie. For the record, no I'm not jerking myself. How can I when this discriminating apocalypse burns in my mind over and over?

Too many questions. How the elderly died so rapidly? Christ, from what I can remember from my sweet 1000 year old grandma, she could never get turned on enough to get the killer cramps. Sure enough, her insides blew up. They found her because of the smoke pouring out of her kitchen window. She had been making cookies. Nothing erotic about that, is there?

And this is my grandma we're talking about; understand? If you don't want me to kick your ass, you'll spare me the quips about where you stick a spatula, or how a dog will lick cookie dough no matter where you put it. Grandma's are sacred territory, man.

What a world we live in, today. I'll tell you, there's no such thing as a gay man in the closet anymore. And funny how there's suddenly no controversy about men marrying men. Not that suddenly every man is gay. Actually, I'd guess only about ten percent of them are.

The rest? Sexual release is sexual release. And without woman around, any guy is willing to take it up the ass. And a guy gets awfully lonely at night, too. Suddenly, curling your naked masculine body around another seems like a viable way to have a relationship.

I don't even know if any women are alive right now. Oh, I'm not saying the virus killed off every last woman. The rest were raped to death. It was impossible to be a woman and live, as man after man showed a primal array of true colors dating back to prehistoric times.

I heard the Chinese government collected all the pre pubescent girls and stuffed them safely away. The idea was that they would be necessary to ensure the continued procreation of mankind.

Yeah, it chills me that all these girls were torn from their mothers. But I have to admit, these Chinese doctors were the first to isolate the PMS Virus by studying these girls. Word was even leaking out that they were close to finding a vaccine.

But then, Mankind hit another homerun in the ball game of fucking up. A highly financed military group figured they could get rich selling those young ladies. God, the way they took every single girl out of that complex was a thing of pure beauty. Something like fourteen guys perfectly synchronized in the singular goal of ridding us of our self respect. And all there military-like discipline vanished as soon as they had their booty. Raped and killed all those little girls. Hope the payoff was worth it, you assholes.

Funny, the way the world's changed in some ways. Not just the big ways, either. Like, every time I visit a friend and throw down a few beers and politely decline sex with him, I go to the bathroom to take a piss. I'm telling you, every damn time that toilet seat is down. It's as though putting the seat down is a silent memorial to the beautiful nags of the past.

So, here I am, telling you my story - and that means I probably should tell you the really messed up stuff. I don't have to do this anymore, but it used to be everyday after my shower, I had to jerk off. I should probably say that with bigger letters. I HAD to jerk off. I was afraid if I didn't keep myself constantly sexually satisfied, then I'd be dead.

And no, I didn't have some twisted reverse virus of PMS. I was a freak.

I was afraid that being only human, I'd give into Larry down at the Convenience Store who had his eye on my ass more times I care to think of. There was the banker at First National who was actually pretty cute, too. But I had to tell them all, "No." Because when I get turned on, I mean really turned on, I become a woman.

I'm serious. Everyday, when I masturbate, eventually my dick shrivels up and instead of stroking seven inches of raw sexual power, I was plunging my fingers into a hot, wet pussy.

Damn, I was hot, too. I probably was a little too coarse as a Lady in the ole days; but what the fuck, I had spent most of my life as a man. And Christ, if someone found out about that, I'd be dead. Hordes of men would gang up on me and fuck me dead. Just like those poor little Chinese girls and all the rest.

And don't sit there and tell me you could control your hormones. I'd tell you, "No," and suddenly your world goes red in huge sexual frustration and your calling me a fucking cock tease. Next, I have to listen to how you're going to teach me a lesson and ram your cock into me hard.

Whatever.

By then, I'm so turned off, I got balls enough to kick your ass. When you wake up, I'd laugh about how piss drunk we'd gotten and that would be that. Far too fucking complicated.

Anyway, Julia's going to finish the story for me. She's a good friend and changed my life. And since she's going to finish up, I guess that means there's hope for the world, but we'll see. Jesus, she says my potty mouth is ruining the whole story. Like this is supposed to be a fairy tale.

Way to fucked up to be a fairy tale . . . and the strange times are just beginning to roll.