My neighbor Officer Partridge molests little girls. From what I understand, sticking his King Kongesque cock 'n' balls into bunny-loving baby trousers is where it's at. Sure, he can get his kiddie kicks, but what about me? As a red-blooded, all-American woman who orders her chemically fattened prime-rib steak bloody raw, I can't pluck from the wealth of 'round-the-clock girl-gash resources that Morgan can. I mean, fuck. I don't even shake hands with women; somebody might think I'm a dyke if I do. So what pitiful molestation opportunities do I have at my disposal? Little Boys.

I look at the short-pants-wearing swing monkeys riding around on their razor scooters and feel a twinge of regret that I'm never going to molest one of them. Why? Because it's wrong? Sure, I guess so...whatever. The reason I don't want to fuck the wee male sex is simple. They're just too little. What the hell is a two-inch pecker going to do for me? As the Cum-Hungry Genius, I want full loads of man sauce. Buckets and buckets of pure-white baby mayonnaise shot from the hugest of Aryan Super Dicks. Sperm showers sent down from the heavens above. A tall glass o' cum. Little kids don't even start squirting out their man-jam until they're like thirteen or so. Tiny boys with tiny dicks that only twitch at the apex of their tiny orgasm seconds after entering my sweltering love chasm just don't turn me on. I can understand wanting to frolic in the prepubescent love park of goodness with golden-skinned girl
children, enjoying the mysterious ecstasy that can come only from devouring the forbidden fruit of the neighborhood nymphets. Could one write so
eloquently about their male counterparts? I think not. Boychiks are short, smelly bastards stinking of grape soda and the dog shit that's encrusted on their Nike high tops. I need a kid who's a man. Give me a boy like Nelson Muntz any day. That lad could show a lady a real good time. Technically he would be considered a minor, but I bet he's hung like an ox.

 

Okay. I'll tell you the truth. I tried it once. I just couldn't go through with it. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon and I was babysitting my nephew Ricky...

Have you ever held a boob, Ricky?

"Do you watch Digimon? I've got a plush Tentomon in the other room if you wanna see it," he offers.

No. Ricky, listen to me. Do you touch your penis?

"My favorite foods are lemon-meringue pie and pork!"

Pork, huh? So you like to eat pork, Ricky? I'll give you something to eat.

"No, I'm not hungry right now."

Criminy, this kid was getting exasperating!

Ricky, I want you to put your finger in this hole.

"Can I have another Totino's Pizza Roll? Will you teach me how to make ice cream?"

I'll teach you how to give a rim job.

Glassy-eyed, he continued playing level three of his Mario Brothers video game and promptly forgot the sexy topic at hand.

Goddamn it, you little cross-eyed brat! Pay attention to me! What about that rimmer?

It went on like this the entire time....

So I gave up, and little Ricky lost out on becoming a full-fledged man that sad, wet, November night, but what I realize today is that he already was a man. He's not interested in sex, all he thinks about is food, and on top of it all, he ignores me. Sounds like every man I've ever been with.

I know it's an uncool opinion nowadays, but I'm going to go out on a limb and state that it is just plain wrong to molest little boys. Not exactly wrong for them, but wrong for me.