The Doctor Hates Women, But Won’t Screw A Dude

Story by Dr. Rodger Entwistle 

| Published Nov 11, 2008

Women.

You can’t live with them, you can’t live without them.

Jesus Christ that was a cliche!

Have I really stooped so low? Dammit.

I was at the bar the other night and a woman came up to me, pretty plastered. She had her friend with her. She started to talk to me. She obviously couldn’t see how drunk and/or ugly I was.

She told me her name was Shelly with an “i” at the end. I don’t give a shit here because that’s not how you spell ShellY!

I told her my name was Richard because she wasn’t that attractive and I didn’t want to see her ever again.

She said she liked my name and started talking. She wasn’t really talking any sort of sense, but her friend kept laughing at everything she said.

“Oh, isn’t she just so funny Richard? You should listen to her because she’s just so funny. I don’t know anyone else who is as funny as her,” said Linda, her friend.

ShellY continued to talk and her friend continued to remind me of how hilarious this one-sided conversation apparently was.

She talked for about 20 minutes and I downed seven shots of Canadian Supreme in the process.

Anything to drown the pain.

She wasn’t funny.

I hate women like this. They live in a fantasy dream world perpetuated by the people they surround themselves with.

This ShellY woman was by far one of the least interesting people I’ve ever met in my entire life, but I’ll bet my ‘87 Pontiac that no one has ever told her that.

ShellY was probably someone popular in her small town high school. Her dad was probably a banker, so she had a car and clothes and could do whatever she wanted because her dad had everyone’s money.

She was the prom queen and the quarterback’s sweetheart and all that shit.

When she got to college, she didn’t know anyone so she immediately joined a sorority so that she didn’t have to deal with social situations.

She would simply surround herself with like-minded people so that she didn’t have to try making it on her own.

She didn’t pay for college.

She quickly found that she was no longer the most popular anything. She was merely a drop in a menstrual ocean of completely identical people.

She had a breakdown. She then found a mopey, awkward girl who wasn’t in a sorority and invited her in. This girl is now Linda.

ShellY knew Linda would be forever indebted to her, because she knew Linda was an insecure idiot.

So now, Linda follows ShellY everywhere, constantly stroking her ego and belittling herself until one day when she’ll have an emotional breakdown and slauter ShellY, turning her stomach into a hat.

This is the only solace I can take from this situation, that some day, all of the subpar, average, nothing-special, ultra-typical, hyper-bland, archetypal, indicitive, old hat, ordinary, paradigmatic, prototypical, stock, standard ShellYs of the world will one day find that they are everything I just mentioned.

I pray that death soon follows.

There are so many ShellYs out there though, the majority of women, I think.

It’s times like these I wish I liked penises and anal sex, but I don’t. Maybe I’ll just have to keep trying to like fat chicks.