THE GREAT GENDER WARS
By: Undercooked
Disclaimer: Hellsing does not belong to me. Nor do unicorns. Nor does icecream. Nor does joy!! --sob--
A/N -- This is a weird, short thing about my friend Brittany and I arguing over Integra's gender. I was right. (Go me.) It's somewhat dramatized (no kidding) and takes place in our art class. Manga is art, right? Right. Anyway, enjoy, and remember...if in doubt of the creature's gender, call Jess, the head executive of It's-Not-Over-Until-The-Fat-Transvestite-Sings. Haha...get it? ...No? Well, screw you.
This may end up being the first in a long series of awkward drabbles, but that's not up to me. That's up to my computer. --looks warily at computer-- Shhh! It's listening!
Brittany and Jess stared each other down, each determined not to give in, each silently praying that Mrs. Paige wasn't looking.
"That's a woman." Jess finally stated, hand on a figurative pistol.
"No. It's a man." Brittany replied slowly, her eyes blazing.
"Look at her eyelashes!" Jess demanded, pounding the manga in front of her. "That's a woman!"
"I'm telling you, it's a man!" Brittany cried. "There are no boobs. NONE! It even says 'sir' here!"
"Well, it says 'ma'am' here!" Jess growled.
"Man!"
"Woman!"
"Man!"
"Woman!"
"Man!"
"Brittany?"
"Yes?"
"What bathroom is he/she going to use?"
"The men's! BECAUSE IT'S A MAN!"
The doors of an imaginary saloon blew in the imaginary wind.
Jess coughed.
She'd breathed a little imaginary dust.
Brittany tipped her imaginary cowboy hat and twiddled her imaginary moustache.
Jess' imaginary spurs twirled in the breeze.
"You guys realize that this is just a book, don't you?" Lee put in, looking confused.
Both of their heads snapped to look at her.
"Blasphemer." Brittany spit.
"Traitor!" Jess cried.
Finally, something they agreed on.