men who hate women

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At an Undisclosed Location, 11:27 P.M: “Child, it’s not safe on the roads and it’s getting late, want a lift?” Nina looked sideways; the middle aged man looked like he was kind and his offer sounded tempting, especially when she was not dressed for the chilly night. “Don’t worry my child, I’m a bishop at the local Pentecostal church and I am no harm” Confused as she was Nina didn’t know what to do. The harsh winter wind did no good to her mental state. It had been a terrific evening for her. She t asted alcohol for the first time in her life. But could she believe the stranger? “Little girl, I can’t see God’s precious creation frozen in the night can I? Get in and make yourself warm” Nina had no other option; there was no transport at that time of the night in her town. She had to o pen the door for opportunity to come in. She bit the nail. “That’s my dear, get in child” He opened the door and Nina we nt in. The only way to bring a c hange in the society is to write a book. “Fuck man, they wear those skimpy outfits and expect us to stay quiet!” “Yea, who can resist them? Exce pt the testosterone deprived and earthworms?” “You’re wrong mate, earthworms too copulate” There are three kinds of men in this world, men who love women, men who love men and men who hate women. We hate the first kind, have no stance upon the se cond and love the third. Yes, we are men, who hate women. “We need to send a message” The only way to bring a c hange in the society is to write a book. “What do we do? Shout at every girl? Form a gro up? Rape the skimpily clad?” “Better than that, let’s write a book”

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Page 1: Men Who Hate Women

8/6/2019 Men Who Hate Women

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At an Undisclosed Location,

11:27 P.M:

“Child, it’s not safe on the roads and it’s getting late, want a lift?”

Nina looked sideways; the middle aged man looked like he was kind and his offer sounded tempting,

especially when she was not dressed for the chilly night.

“Don’t worry my child, I’m a bishop at the local Pentecostal church and I am no harm”

Confused as she was Nina didn’t know what to do. The harsh winter wind did no good to her mental

state. It had been a terrific evening for her. She tasted alcohol for the first time in her life. But could she

believe the stranger?

“Little girl, I can’t see God’s precious creation frozen in the night can I? Get in and make yourself warm”

Nina had no other option; there was no transport at that time of the night in her town. She had to openthe door for opportunity to come in. She bit the nail.

“That’s my dear, get in child”

He opened the door and Nina went in.

The only way to bring a change in the society is to write a book.

“Fuck man, they wear those skimpy outfits and expect us to stay quiet!”

“Yea, who can resist them? Except the testosterone deprived and earthworms?”

“You’re wrong mate, earthworms too copulate”

There are three kinds of men in this world, men who love women, men who love men and men who

hate women. We hate the first kind, have no stance upon the second and love the third. Yes, we are

men, who hate women.

“We need to send a message”

The only way to bring a change in the society is to write a book.

“What do we do? Shout at every girl? Form a group? Rape the skimpily clad?”

“Better than that, let’s write a book”

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Bikini Straps and the Men behind:

The light flickered over head. P was blowing smoke rings all over.

“What shall we name it?”

“Bikini straps and the Men behind”

P coughed and spat the phlegm on the floor. The smoke wafted lazily through the air.

“Catchy, but will the women read it?”

1/3 rd’s of women hide their sexual feelings.

“I guess they will, they say curiosity kills a woman, here it sells the book”

“What will we write upon? Why girls shouldn’t wear minimalistic clothes? Or on how cleavages defy

morals? Or on how men rape women.”

“Neither, words rarely create the tension but a picture does, a hundred page book with a thirty page

description will do the kill”

“Now, who will turn to be a photographer? How..”

“Those cholesterol fuelled, make up masked, ‘I am still 16’ type of mothers with daughters half of their

age should know, those ‘I love attention’ daughter’s of bitches should know, those..”

P didn’t exist. He was just an illusion just like the smoke rings.

“So a book with photographs right?”

“Yes, more or less the idea is the same”

“So who will our models be?”

P doesn’t exist.

Jack threw a list onto my lap.

“Hundred fine bitches, born in the richest families in the city. Families that live on a name, families that

spend more time with cosmetics than learning ethics. Families scarred the by the change of face.

Families that rear bitches”

P exists only when Jack says he does.

P coughed again. This time Jack kicked him in his stomach. P spat blood.

“What the fuck do you think?”

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“What?”

“Okay, let’s think you have shot the photographs, compiled the shit and filled in the pages, do you think

that will do the trick? It’s not a fuckin sex magazine, okay? Who’ll publish it? You? Do you have any idea

on how a book is brought out? Do you think the police will rest their asses while we heat them from

below? This, my friend is no Hollywood movie. This, is fucking reality. Submit the pile of shit, the verynext moment you’d know how shit tastes.”

“He’s right!, he is fucking right! Our names will be written all over, we…”

“SILENCE!”

If Jack was out of his mind, we had to forget that we had one too. Smoke rings, pale, smelly and surreal.

We were drenched in nicotine fog; we had the ‘up’ it gave. My eyes started burning.

“There has to be a way out, we are not fuckin prom rapists right? We are not grave diggers. We can

think. THINK!, you measly little fucks."

There could be only one thing which could bring a change in the society other than books, the media.

“What if we fuck with the media?”

“What?”

“Yea, you’ve heard it right. Let’s give a call and say some stupid building crashed down and many people

are dead. And when they arrive at the scene, let’s fuck with ‘em!”

“Are you out of your fuckin mind?”

I’m dead.

“It’s like scratching your arse with a Swiss knife; do you think the journalists are a pack of shit brain

nitwits? You’d become popular, but the message you want to convey becomes contaminated too. Is the

smoke getting on your nerves? You fuckin…”

P coughed. I coughed. Jack had the power to unleash us, but he never used it.

“Movies!”

What? Smoke, cock and the shock? But it was Jack talking.

“Movies!, Fuck man, where can you get better coverage than them? Take a movie and put it on the

net!”

I now know why Jack is a genius. He used some parts, unlike us.

“But what’s the story?”

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“Dunno. Maybe a teen film or a documentary, who knows? A kind of film every one watches like

crime...”

Books had a wide appeal and media a wider one. But movies? Not everyone watches every kind of 

movie. What kind of….

“Porn”

“What?”

“Yea porn. Every single person in this fuckin world must have watched porn at one time or the other. A

fifteen minute video is enough to shake the foundations of a 15 year old and a 55 year old equally. In the

internet age it can be easily procured without any hassles and the age bar is just like a gate to a bank

which does not exist. Porn is addictive and effective. It has the mass appeal and also the emotional

edge. Make a porn film and let the emotion flow, half the fathers in the world will take more care about

their daughters, more girls will actually realize that something shown in the film can actually happen to

them. We’ll raise the cocks to kill the chicken. We, will make our message clear”

“But, won’t our faces be visible?”

“Dude, it’s porn, we can mask our faces, it’s the chick that’s important.”

“And the actress? The money?”

“We should know better, come on, let’s go, let’s grab a drink apiece”

Rum. It’s more like a cough syrup, just that it’s more pungent and more high rising.

“How chick!”

“Motherfucker, mind your own business”, the guy with the chick shouted back. P was on fire.

“Bitch, whore, you are the fuckin dynamite between innocent men. You…”

Jack kicked P at a place which men tend with care. P rolled out in pain,

“Mothe…”

“Fuck it man, have you lost your brain? It’s singles we are after, not fuckin sluts and traffic police”

11:32 P.M.

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P, the silent man did his job. One straight kick in the man’s face, it banged against the door. And the very

next moment P was behind the wheel and the old man on the street.

“Where to?”

“The room”

Action. We took turns.

Jack was the first to go, I was taping the sound.

He slowly worked his way into action. He unbuttoned her dress. She kicked him but Jack was more like

Hawk, precision and timing was all it required. And amidst the drama he started the avt.

“Every crime has a motive. Every crime has a reason. The reason for this is the oomph. It’s someone’s

kid, but it might be yours next time or it maybe you. For every Centimeter decrease in length, there is an

exponential increase for the probability of a rape.”

P fondled her. She couldn’t resist, she was like a roasted chicken, tied and helpless but bearing the pain

all the time.

“And always the cocks win over the chicks”

And I entered the frame.

©Pawan Maruvada.

http://m4maruvada.blogspot.com/