When did you first hear about Fifty Shades of Grey? Was it when it blew up and everyone’s aunt, grandma and mum started reading it? Or when they decided, hey this book has an excellent ‘oh my’ to ‘every other fucking word in the book’ ratio, let’s make it into a movie!? Either way, here we are, discussing the popularity of something I’ve heard described as ‘Twilight Smut Fanfiction’ and ‘Mommy Porn.’
Now, I’m not averse to smut or S&M, not at all. It may not be my cup of tea, but that’s not what made the book so damn fucking awkward. I’m averse to horrid writing and cardboard characters. I’m averse to poor prose and shitty vocabulary. And you can bet your bottom dollar that I’m a-fucking-verse to the underlying storyline that seems to promote not only a misogynistic ideal, but one so naive and farfetched that a better storyline would simply have been if she met him, stabbed him in the face and walked out. Instead we got a 500 page book that could have been summed up with:
Her: Oh my, you are so beautiful and rich and dark and brooding and I must needs fix you!
Him: Bitch, you better be a lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets! Let me cane you.
Her: I wish you wouldn’t physically assault me, but I feel like this could lead to something more.
Him: I wanna gag you.
Her: You’re the one.
Except she’s not a freak in the sheets is she? What’s her face, Anna McNeedsAThesarusSTAT ISN’T a freak in the sheets. She’s a Vampire-less Bella Swan cut-out of an English major with the vocabulary of a 12 year old.
I’m getting into a rant aren’t I? Somebody stop me.
The thing is, people are eating this shit up like it’s good, but I’ve seen better fanfiction. It seems fitting that Fifty Shades stems from D Grade fanfiction. I can’t with the world. Unfortunately[?], I wasn’t strong enough to make it through the entire novel, forgive me fellow critics but I was weak. But what I did manage to read made me cry salty tears of red-hot regret.
Okay, I’m getting a ‘slit throat gesture’ vibe from the wonderful Jessica, so I should probably get to the point. And no, the point wasn’t to rant about the success of the misogynistic, poorly written Fifty Shades of Shit.
Here’s the real deal. Remember how the Edge was running a competition called ‘Forbidden Fiction’? Jess and I decided it would be high-larious to submit our own entry. We got together and decided our entry had to be the most ridiculous thing we could come up with. Just a quick disclaimer: We do not in ANY way condone the breaking of the Health Code, even if it’s for hanky panky. Come on guys, be Health Code wise. (I may have riffed on the Fire Wise motto a bit there.) Also, any resemblance to any institution or fast food brands are purely coincidental.
Jawkward Forbidden Fiction Entry.
You know, it’s not true what they say about Asians, because Chang was big. I could tell, he was a big bucket, if you know what I mean.
“You take the breast, I take the thighs?” He asked from behind the counter as we locked up after work, his slightly high voice cracking. Like a cookies and cream krusher poured down my pants, I melted. Walking towards him, I knew what I was about to do went against both company policy and the health code but I didn’t care. He made me feel like wicked wings, hot and spicy.
“No, you take the breast.” I said breathily, grabbing his hand and putting it on my chest. “And I’ll take…you.” The radio started playing the only song that got me hot and bothered, Flo Rida’s Whistle. “How about I blow your whistle baby?”
Finally he got the hint and ripped my uniform open, I gasped and unbuttoned his pants. He lifted me up onto the chicken bench, before he dipped his hand into the pot of lukewarm gravy and lifted it up to my mouth for me to lick off; there was so much of it that it dripped down throat and onto my breasts, soon our tongues were playing oral twister. Our hands, his hot and sticky from the gravy and mine moist from the chicken grease, were all over each other.
I licked the gravy off of his fingers and he tongued the gravy from my chest, murmuring ‘Say my name!’ I tried to form it, but my world was dissolving as we became one. “Say it!” The sensation was overwhelming and I gasped for air,
“Yes! COLONEL! COLONEL CHANG!” I screamed. I fell back against the chicken rack, spent and trying to catch my breath.
Chang bent down to pick up his cap, which I had knocked off in the throws of passion. “How was that for you babe?”
I took out my inhaler, administering it before wheezing, “God, that was finger lickin’ good.”
Yes. That was Jawkward for all of us.