A man struts and huffs and puffs and expands like a blowfish, but all the old women close their eyes. Deny him the female gaze. Refuse to be a witness to his Almighty Greatness, let alone a cheerleader.
And not only does he deflate, he disappears in a puff of, well, nothingness. Existential nothingness. Beauvoir would be delighted.
Camus would be pissed though.
Cool. So … very cool.
Yeah, it’s not that we’ve stopped reflecting men at twice their size, thank you Dale Spender and Sally Cline; we’ve stopped reflecting them at all.
*
She kills him.
WTF!
He consented. She paused. Did anyone hear him say ‘No’?
Next time she drugs him. Then kills him.
WTF!
He consented. She poked at his inert body. He didn’t resist.
Next time, she asks him. I’d really like to kill you.
What?
Do you consent?
What?
She looks at the others. I swear half of them are too stupid to live.
She shoots him.
WTF!
Relax, no one saw me. I’m an old woman. Invisible.
Unfuckable.
Same thing.
Yeah.


















