”“No, of course not! I very much like loving with you. But I am jealous of other girls.”“I understand. Don’t worry. I meant to ask, are there any events coming up in DC that I need to plan for?”“There is a May Day event at the Embassy, but that is a Wednesday night. We would both have to miss school to go to it, and it is right before when you have your exams, I believe.”“Yes, May 10th is our last day of class before exams. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”“Me either. My exams are one week after yours. There will be something in the summer, I am sure. I will let you know. We can talk about the future then.”“Have you decided what to do yet?” I asked.“No. I wish to talk to you in January before I make a final decision when the school year ends. Is this OK?”“Of course!”“Good!”We spoke for a few more minutes and then I went to make dinner. Only a few of our friends stayed for dinner that evening - Dave, Jorge, George, and Charlie. Jackie had left late in the afternoon taking Jeremiah with. However, I do find myself quite bemused by a lot of the plot devices present in the stories here; most particularly those, which focus on the protagonist being turned into some item of clothing. So I thought to myself: Aha! I could write a parody of that!Sadly, my parody failed. The Factory is not so much a satire as it is a manifestation of years of self-loathing. So here it is.And before you ask: no, I don't think people who read/write those sorts of story are sick, even if sometimes I don't understand them. I face too much prejudice myself to justify spreading any more. The only really sick person is, in the words of Ash, "Just me, baby. Just me."The original version is at the website above, and it's got proper italics and everything. Italics were used in the original layout to signify thought; in this plaintext version I've substituted hash signs (') that sit on either side of the text, in the style of HTML quote marks. Hope that's clear. There are one or two edits for clarity,.
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