Written by: Mark. A. Pritchard
Released on: The Rorshach Rant- 25th March 2015
‘The tunnels of intolerance are everywhere my silly, muddled headed little daughter. When you think that you have closed one, another two open. That’s how it works, that’s how it has always worked. You might know me by another name….THE DISSENTER….Yes, it is me. The gang of criminals known as the ‘Politically Incorrect Scoundrels’ is my little group. I set it up when I faked my death and abandoned your stupid mother to get away from you. How is your mother nowadays anyway LOVE? Ha ha ha. Yes it was me who forced her to take those drugs; it was me that drove her into an early heroin induced grave. Ha ha ha ha, you women don’t know what you are up against. Your feminist resistance is doomed to failure, doomed I tell you, ha ha ha ha ha’
‘Daddy, I…. I…I…I can’t believe it…’ she stuttered, unable to respond to the hatred laced revelations coming from her own father.
‘Shut your cake hole, you spoiled brat. If you can’t talk without stammering, don’t talk at all. Did you really think that I was dead? Did you really think that my kind had simply died out, gone extinct like the dinosaurs? No, I simply bided my time, laid my trap, and you fell straight into it, like the stupid GIRL that you always were.’
Now he was bragging, really starting to enjoy himself and his final victory. Miss Morality slumped to the floor of her prison cell, unwilling to look into the face of evil, the face that was her father.
‘Get up LOVE,’ and he spoke that last word with particular spiteful relish, enjoying the connotation of sexist degradation that the word carries.
‘I have another surprise for you SWEETHEART. Stand-up, take it like a GIRL. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.’
And as his callous laugh taunted the very air around him a familiar voice spoke up from somewhere very near.
‘Brother? Is that you?’
Miss Morality had bravely found her voice, and as she stumbled to her feet, there waiting, at her tiny prison-cell window was the leering face of her brother Ruthus.
‘The tunnels of intolerance run deep Sis. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Yes, I am one of them now. Daddy has cured me of my evil homosexuality. I am a real man now, and the Politically incorrect scoundrels have welcomed me with open arms. I even have a girlfriend. Her name is Claire. She is reaaaalllly pretty, ha ha ha ha. She is a secretary, ha ha ha ha ha ha.’
Miss Morality was on the verge of passing out. Her father always was an evil bastard, but he was a dead evil bastard, or so she had believed. Now, not only had he had returned from the dead, but he had brainwashed her poor innocent, homosexual brother Rufus as well. This was simply too much for her to take.
Rufus was no longer the confused, bumbling, effeminate sweetheart of a man that she had known and loved. He had been brainwashed, changed against his will (presumably) into something evil, something beyond human. Yes, those monsters had changed him into that worst of all creatures, the straight, white male.
The horror was almost too much for her to bear. Everything about him seemed different. He was wearing a football shirt. He smelt like cheap lager and his nails looked absolutely awful as he gripped her prison bars before delivering this final taunt to his despairing sister.
The evil lager enthused laughter was punctuated only by the screams of a desperately clawing at her cell bars Miss Morality.
‘Noooooo, you monsters, you monsters, nooooooooo.’
‘See you in the pub later Dad. Champions League tonight, later mate.’
And with these final Hellish words coming from the now obscenely manly lips of her unrecognisable, brainwashed, not gay anymore brother, he was gone.
The last words in this awful scene of patriarchal brutality came from the woman hating mouth of the uniformed Police officer standing infront of the cell that contained a now curled up, weeping, convulsing Miss Morality.
She could no longer speak. All she could do was cry, and the evil incarnate that was her father, THE DISSENTER, delivered his final words like a knife in her back.
‘I’ll have custody of your darling baby girl in the morning LOVE. My Politically Incorrect Scoundrels own the courts. We own everything. Baby Sojourner will be taught to respect her man. No more feminism for her, she will never, ever taste the sweet, sweet air of emancipation and freedom away from our manly, hairy mitts. Goodbye DARLING, and remember. You can BITCH, you can whine, you can moan and complain, but the tunnels of intolerance run deep. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. The tunnels of intolerance run deeeeeeeep.’
END (Or, is it?)
And so ends my story. The message that it contains should be very clear. The tunnels of intolerance run very deep indeed dear reader. The world is a terrible place, but together we can break down those tunnels of intolerance, those hidden, underground networks of sexism, of racism, of homophobia and err, all of the other evil stuff like that. We can stop the evils of white, male, middle class, straight, privilege. Together, we can free female warriors like Miss Morality. We can save young girls from the evils of marriage, from motherhood and a wasted life loving and caring for their patriarchal prison construct called ‘family.’ It’s going to be a tough battle, but we can do it. Join the social justice warrior movement, and together we can rid the world of the evil that is patriarchy, forever.
* If any artist would be willing to illustrate this story, then please let me know.
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