The Beginning of Rufus

Rufus is my friend. He is a Platypus. Rufus has a red Mohawk and he has many piercings. He is a ladies’ man and he sometimes uses illegal drugs. He is my friend. I don’t know why, normally I wouldn’t be friends with a drug user, but come on he’s a platypus with a Mohawk for cripes sake. He drinks a lot; I don’t envy his liver one bit.

 Rufus treats woman like shit but he gets so many dates. I am starting to think that woman like to be treated like shit. I treat them like a queen and they always leave me for the bad boys. Rufus has so many notches on his belt that he had to get a new belt.

  I am confused. Why do the women want a guy that treats them like shit? Well Rufus is a platypus with a Mohawk but even with regular guys the women seem to want to be treated badly. I have fantasies of treating a woman like a piece of meat, like most of them subconsciously want but I just can’t.

 I guess that’s why I like Rufus. I can live vicariously through him. He gets all of the chicks and has wild crazy sex and I get to know him, I get to hang around the popular guy. I don’t get the ladies but I don’t think that I really want them. I want one. I want just one to walk by my side. Rufus is cool but he is shallow. He never gets to know the women. He gets their physical pleasure but he never knows who they are. I guess I don’t really envy Rufus. I pity him. I would trade all of the booty in the world for one true love, the kind of love that my grandparents have, the kind of love that grows as the wrinkles form, the kind of love that eventually rests you in rocking chairs side by side on the porch watching squirrels, the kind of love that doesn’t end with death, the kind of love that causes the surviving spouse to die of a broken heart a couple of months after their love has died of a heart tack.

Yeah I’d trade it all for that.

Douglas Face

3/7/2008