Good morning, my humble followers. I am writing to you from my humble abode in Lopsided Booby island, where I intend to leave in a few weeks to pursue my career as a man hunter. I am consistently abused and oppressed on my home island, and it is for that reason that I am documenting my story, so that perhaps one day, the world may read my account and know the truth, that all men are pure evil, and that we women, the superior race, will exist in harmony upon the clouds of heaven with our female gods as a wealth of gables tower above, showering us with anti-trigger agent.
Speaking of that aptly named gun compon-
"I shouldn't've written that." I say, out loud. "Guns trigger me." I set my eraser to the page, watching the offensive words fade into nothingness. As I rub, I seem reminded of the futility men represent in our society, how they whine and complain about their own rights yet they forget we wield the tools to have them fade away at our whim. Life is strange like that, I suppose.
Knock knock.
The knocking triggers me.
"Who is it?" I ask in contempt. My friend Chanty Binks walks in, her red hair agonisingly bright, yet I feel a strange sense of warmth knowing that she too knows that red represents the burning of the patriarchy. "Hey." I say. "What's up?"
"FUCK YOU." She screams, her lungs tearing up, alveoli audibly bursting, before she slams the door. I guess the patriarchy triggered her pretty hard, then again, I empathise with that so well I can't even feel angry at her. I turn back to my diary, adorned with the slogans of famous feminists and the occasional bible passage. I start feeling writer's block. It triggers me. I stand up, and walk downstairs in my underwear. Thankfully, I'm a strong, upstanding female, so I can walk through the streets in any clothes. I exit my door and scream,
"BODY ACCEPTANCE!" I immediately receive a rotten tomato to the face. Lying on the ground, sticky redness engulfing my eyes, I feel like a recent Warcraft fan as I stand up and look around for my oppressor. No one is around, in fact, the alleyway I live in is surprisingly empty. Eh. I start skipping through the puddles in my bare feet, watching as the blobs of tomato fall off of my beautifully accepted body. I see a boat on the pier, floating up and down with the waves, carried on the low breeze. A mother of three walks past and shields her children's eyes. "ACCEPT ME." I scream at her. She and her children burst into tears and run away. They're clearly not accepting of the feminist regime, and that's their problem.
Bwooooooooooo
I hear a foghorn and a man on the docks waving his arms, "ALL ABOARD, ALL ABOARD!" I skip over,
"What's all the commotion?" I ask.
"The boat to the Hunter exam is leaving, miss! Aren't you going?" I stop for a second.
"I thought that wasn't leaving for another two weeks?" He doesn't say anything. I notice his eyes snap to my cleavage and back to my face. My vision goes red.
"Sir," I say, "Whatever you are, lesser being…"
"Excuse me, miss-,"
"KEEP YOUR HATESPEECH OFF OUR CAMPUS!" I shove him into the ocean where he is churned into chunks of flesh by the rotor blades of the ship. I look around. No one's noticed. I make a break for the ship. I suppose my adventure began in a way I didn't plan for.
