In a bold move to improve my luck with girls, I turn myself into one. Unexpectedly I fall in love, hard.
With myself.
For hours and hours I just stand at the mirror, head over heels for this new nudie she-me. "Oh you... babydoll...," I whisper into the glass, trailing slow feverish fingertips over my twin boobies with their foxy little tattoos by the nipples, over my wavy brunette curls here there and everywhere, over the warm naughty globes of my fine slinky ass. I lean close and plant a long wet kiss on my own pretty pretty lips. My heart feels like a love-soaked sponge.
The guy in the apartment across the way takes the whole thing in, me at my mirror. He gets ideas, believe it.
To improve his chances with me, he hits on the idea of turning himself into a girl. You can guess what happens.
The guy in the apartment beside me now spies this brand new girl across the way, sees her feeling her self up at the mirror, starts to burn and tremble. "Hey, to improve my shot at getting close to her," he thinks, "guess what? I'll turn myself into a girl!"
You know where this leads.
Eventually thanks to this Ping-Ponging of new girls at mirrors and guys getting ideas, the population of both apartment buildings becomes entirely female.
The tenants' organization calls a crisis meeting in one of the lobbies. A mob of pissed-off girlfriends and wives turn up. It's understandable, their anger, which is directed at me and the one other 'new girl' present (who used to be the bald guy down my hall). All the other 'new girls' are apparently too busy self-ogling to tear themselves away. "It's an outrage!" snarls the organization president, who's single but obviously takes the whole business to heart, generally, and specifically the behavior of us two 'new girls'--who can't help caressing our lovely new selves, right there in public. "It's sordid!' someone yells. "Disgusting!" everyone cries.
"Hey I'm sorry," I mumble. I blush, feeling ashamed. "Have you no shame?" the president demands. "Gee, I think he's kinda cute," grins a girl I hadn't noticed before, for some brain-dead reason. She winks at me. "I like cute girls," she whispers to me, after the meeting's broken up. "Hey, so do I," I tell her, with a grin.
We start seeing each other. Honestly, I'm still 'self-absorbed;' but I've been convinced it's probably unhealthy, that really I should direct my attentions on another person. All this started as a way to meet girls, after all. This girl who likes girls and likes me is cute as anything. And it's sexy with her, it's very hot and intimate in a sexy way. She has this pierced tongue. "But someone else keeps coming between us!" she accuses me, exasperated. "And she's right there--in the fucking mirror!"
"Girl, you shouldn't have done that, it's seven years bad luck," I tell her quietly, after she's smashed the culprit glass into pieces.
"You are one sick lady," she informs me.
It hits me that she's right. I go see a shrink. She's an older woman, with a sad wise face and sensible jewelry. I feel I can open up to her. I lie on the couch, going on and on about my predicament. "I understand, yes, I understand," she grunts beside me. Her grunts get stronger, stronger and animal-like. I turn around toward her, in alarm. She is licking her old bare shoulder, which is surprisingly hairy, and her hands are not where they should be taking notes on a pad. "You gotta love yourself, baby," she sputters, her eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "It's healthy, ooh ooh, it's so healthy," she cries.
So what do I do now, that's what I'd like to know.
"Barry Yourgrau manages to articulate your most bugged-out daydreams" - Adam Horovitz of the Beastie Boys
"There's no other writer alive like Barry Yourgrau."- Jerry Stahl (author of Perv & Permanent Midnight)
Writer & spoken-wordster Barry Yourgrau writes strange dreamlike books of short twisted stories. He also starred in the movie of his book, The Sadness of Sex, with Peta Wilson. Barry's earliest books are little classics--Wearing Dad's Head & A Man Jumps Out of An Airplane (excerpted here). His latest, Haunted Traveller, about fantastic travels, was an Amazon.com Travel Editor Top 10 Pick.
Barry was seen on MTV Unplugged's first Spoken Word special. He's often on NPR. As a film actor he debuted as an A-bomb scientist (Fat Man and Little Boy). But he's most proud of starring in an Anthrax music video, featuring Gena Elfman as a teen runaway.
Barry can be reached via yourgrau.com.
With myself.
For hours and hours I just stand at the mirror, head over heels for this new nudie she-me. "Oh you... babydoll...," I whisper into the glass, trailing slow feverish fingertips over my twin boobies with their foxy little tattoos by the nipples, over my wavy brunette curls here there and everywhere, over the warm naughty globes of my fine slinky ass. I lean close and plant a long wet kiss on my own pretty pretty lips. My heart feels like a love-soaked sponge.
The guy in the apartment across the way takes the whole thing in, me at my mirror. He gets ideas, believe it.
To improve his chances with me, he hits on the idea of turning himself into a girl. You can guess what happens.
The guy in the apartment beside me now spies this brand new girl across the way, sees her feeling her self up at the mirror, starts to burn and tremble. "Hey, to improve my shot at getting close to her," he thinks, "guess what? I'll turn myself into a girl!"
You know where this leads.
Eventually thanks to this Ping-Ponging of new girls at mirrors and guys getting ideas, the population of both apartment buildings becomes entirely female.
The tenants' organization calls a crisis meeting in one of the lobbies. A mob of pissed-off girlfriends and wives turn up. It's understandable, their anger, which is directed at me and the one other 'new girl' present (who used to be the bald guy down my hall). All the other 'new girls' are apparently too busy self-ogling to tear themselves away. "It's an outrage!" snarls the organization president, who's single but obviously takes the whole business to heart, generally, and specifically the behavior of us two 'new girls'--who can't help caressing our lovely new selves, right there in public. "It's sordid!' someone yells. "Disgusting!" everyone cries.
"Hey I'm sorry," I mumble. I blush, feeling ashamed. "Have you no shame?" the president demands. "Gee, I think he's kinda cute," grins a girl I hadn't noticed before, for some brain-dead reason. She winks at me. "I like cute girls," she whispers to me, after the meeting's broken up. "Hey, so do I," I tell her, with a grin.
We start seeing each other. Honestly, I'm still 'self-absorbed;' but I've been convinced it's probably unhealthy, that really I should direct my attentions on another person. All this started as a way to meet girls, after all. This girl who likes girls and likes me is cute as anything. And it's sexy with her, it's very hot and intimate in a sexy way. She has this pierced tongue. "But someone else keeps coming between us!" she accuses me, exasperated. "And she's right there--in the fucking mirror!"
"Girl, you shouldn't have done that, it's seven years bad luck," I tell her quietly, after she's smashed the culprit glass into pieces.
"You are one sick lady," she informs me.
It hits me that she's right. I go see a shrink. She's an older woman, with a sad wise face and sensible jewelry. I feel I can open up to her. I lie on the couch, going on and on about my predicament. "I understand, yes, I understand," she grunts beside me. Her grunts get stronger, stronger and animal-like. I turn around toward her, in alarm. She is licking her old bare shoulder, which is surprisingly hairy, and her hands are not where they should be taking notes on a pad. "You gotta love yourself, baby," she sputters, her eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "It's healthy, ooh ooh, it's so healthy," she cries.
So what do I do now, that's what I'd like to know.
"Barry Yourgrau manages to articulate your most bugged-out daydreams" - Adam Horovitz of the Beastie Boys
"There's no other writer alive like Barry Yourgrau."- Jerry Stahl (author of Perv & Permanent Midnight)
Writer & spoken-wordster Barry Yourgrau writes strange dreamlike books of short twisted stories. He also starred in the movie of his book, The Sadness of Sex, with Peta Wilson. Barry's earliest books are little classics--Wearing Dad's Head & A Man Jumps Out of An Airplane (excerpted here). His latest, Haunted Traveller, about fantastic travels, was an Amazon.com Travel Editor Top 10 Pick.
Barry was seen on MTV Unplugged's first Spoken Word special. He's often on NPR. As a film actor he debuted as an A-bomb scientist (Fat Man and Little Boy). But he's most proud of starring in an Anthrax music video, featuring Gena Elfman as a teen runaway.
Barry can be reached via yourgrau.com.
VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
cymagen:
twotoast:
mmmmmmmmmmmm very interesting!!