Content warning for descriptions of violence
1. Go to that cool new bar you’ve been wanting to check out foreeever—(Rooftop!? Fairy lights!? That raspberry beer that tastes like wine but is actually beer?!). When that guy in the Patriots jersey that’s been leering all night follows you to the bathroom, let him follow you right on in—everyone’s welcome! —then kick him in the balls (that’s easy), and when he falls to his knees, kick him in the neck like Scar-Jo, Avengers-style! And when he falls to the ground and wraps his hands around his head like a knuckle-helmet, forget that he has a mother or a sister or a girlfriend and kick him in the throat as many times as it takes for his legs to stop twitching. Then get back out under the stars and kill it on the dance floor, girl!
2. The next morning, go to the grocery store when you’re hung over in search of something cheesy and salty. When that forty-something man shuffling beside you in the dairy aisle keeps smirking at your chest while you’re trying to hone in on a decent cheddar, ask him—could you help me pick out a beer? And when he says, “yeah sure,” with that shocked expression on his face meaning he didn’t realize you could speak, lead him by the hand to the beer fridge. When inside, throw him a quick knee to the groin and when he’s on the floor, slip a craft beer out of one of one of the many cases emblazoned with logos of woman humping/thrusting/licking and plunge it into his skull. Scream at him, “YOU FUCKIN PIECE OF SHIT FUCK YOU.” Then get back to that cheese aisle girl because you’re feeling something that you can sizzle on a cast iron—something oozy-goozy while watching Will & Grace reruns. Doesn’t that sound nice?
3. On Monday, hop on the T to go to the job interview you’ve been excited about for weeks. Even though you’re tired because you’ve committed sooo much murder, you’re still excited. And when the man breathing down your neck for the last four stops grabs your ass right before you step out onto the platform, turn around as fast as you can so you can punch him in the stomach. But the train doors—they close. And the T takes off to the next stop. The hand that touched you, and the man attached to the hand, is gone. He gets away.
4. Go to the happy hour that’s being hosted just for you because of your big interview. Tell everyone that it went fine, because it did. Don’t keep reliving how much of your skin was bunched up in that man’s fist this morning. Don’t keep itching the spot on your backside where he made contact. And later, after a few warming drinks, after that feeling has dissipated a bit, don’t say yes to the offer of a free drink from the fresh young punk that’s brushing your shoulder for the past hour. Don’t say yes. When you do say yes, you feel bad, because something about your face must still read as nice. Don’t ask him to come back to your apartment. Don’t allow your friends to encourage it—to tell you that you deserve a little fun. You ask him to come back with you. You tell yourself you deserve it—(what do you deserve exactly? You're not sure).
5. Don’t let him in. Don’t sit on the couch. When you do let him in and you’re sitting thigh to thigh on the couch, don’t let him fumble with your bra--show him how to take it off. When he fumbles, reddens, flaccifies, don’t assist with the zipper on the back of your dress—make him learn. You assist. You coo. You tell him that he’s doing great, that his hands feel so good. Don’t let the life build back up inside of you. Don’t let the hardness of his waistband sear the skin of your stomach. You're burning. When he finally grabs your backside in the way he’s been taught from years of porn and Eli Roth films, and when he slides his fingers around the base of your neck and his eyes close and his body relaxes because he’s finally on track and he’s going to get his--yeah—he’s going to get to tell his friends about the girl he screwed from the bar last night—
6. DIG YOUR THUMBS INTO HIS EYE SOCKETS UNTIL FLUID LEAKS DOWN YOUR FOREARMS AND SCREAM, “GET YOURS, GET YOURS, GET YOURS."
7. Feel no moral qualms. Decide to keep murdering and to never change anything about yourself. Turn on Will & Grace and watch the old seasons that remind you that big hair is in, and straight guys? —So out.
Samantha Tkac holds an MFA from Butler University and has work published or forthcoming in The Squawk Back, Drunk Monkeys and Writers Resist.