[JimmyDimples]

I didn’t vote, because I didn’t see the answer I wanted…

If I’m a character, do I get to change the plot and hold my own a la Monty Bank?

Then I realized, if I did hijack the story like that, it wouldn’t be a Marknew story anymore… it’d be a JimmyDimples story. 😛

[JimmyDimples]

To: Marilyn Knewsome (marknew742@gmail.com)

From: Morty Bank

Re: My Mom and Dad

Sorry I’m way late on this. I didn’t have anything to add to our pow wow with the other students. But something happened this evening in the wake of the Big Muscle Switcheroo that I’m kind of concerned about.

One evening last week, I had to go down to my mom and dad’s bathroom since the toilet upstairs wasn’t working right. Passing by their bedroom, I heard them getting ready for … well, what they said tells it better than I could.

Mom said, "Monty, I don’t feel like it, I just want you to hold me."

Dad said, "Say WHAT now?!"

Mom sighed and said "You’re just not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for me to satisfy your physical needs as a man."

Dad went, "Wh… wha… wha?"

"Can’t you just love me for who I am and not what I do for you in the bedroom?"

And it was totally quiet after that. Realizing that nothing else was going to happen that night I went to the bathroom, looked out for number one, and went back to bed.

Then the Big Switch happened. Last night, I went down to their bathroom to get some hydrogen peroxide. I didn’t hear what they were arguing about, but then the door swung open, and Ma carried Dad in her arms right out of the bedroom, toted him into the den, and dumped him into the couch with a blanket and pillow. They didn’t want to talk about it.

Anyway, this afternoon after school, Dad got off early from work to do some clothes shopping; Ma’s wardrobe was too small, and Dad’s and mine were too big.

But we didn’t go to Wal-Mart as usual. No, we went shopping at a big, big fancy department store.

I walked around with them while Mom tried on several different very expensive outfits. She couldn’t decide which one to take so Dad told her we’ll just buy them all. She wanted new shoes to go her new clothes, so he said lets get a pair for each outfit. Then we went on to the jewellery department where she picked out a pair of diamond earrings. Let me tell you…she was so excited. I hadn’t seen her this giddy since Arielle and Merita won free tickets to the Great Honking Flejeebers concert.

I was worried about how we were going to pay for everything. And we hadn’t even gotten clothes for Dad or me.

Mom then asked for a tennis bracelet and she doesn’t even know how to play tennis. Dad said, "That’s fine, honey." I realized something was up.

Well, Ma was so excited, I thought she was going to make out with Dad right there in the store right then. Smiling with excited anticipation she finally said, "I think this is all dear, let’s go to the cashier."

Dad folded his arms and simply said, "No honey, I don’t feel like it."

Her face just went completely blank as her jaw dropped with a baffled "Huh?!"

Dad then said, "Really honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for awhile."

"WHAT?!?"

"You’re just not in touch with my financial needs as a man enough for me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman."

And just when she had this look like she was going to kill Dad, he added, "Martissa, dear, why can’t you just love me for who I am and not for the things I buy you?"

She dumped all the stuff, grabbed my wrist, stomped off to the SUV, and we left him at the store.

Something tells me Dad’s sleeping on the couch again tonight.

Should I say or do anything?

Morty Bank

[JimmyDimples]

To: Marilyn Knewsome (marknew742@gmail.com)

From: Merita Myrick

Dear Ms. Newsome:

Arielle passed this address on to me. I wasn’t in your session Wednesday; I had been in school in Indonesia on a foreign exchange program this semester, and I’d just flown back that morning. I had to hurry back to the States when the Islamic village we stayed in had a very bad women’s revolt. Sadly, our school got torched by the men in response. So while it’s great to be home, I wish it were for a better reason.

Anyway, all this muscle changing had gotten me in the dumps. My mom and dad decided to cheer me up by taking me out to my favorite all-you-can-eat country style steak buffet for a welcome-home dinner.

Well, like Arielle, I like the power of my new body, but not the shape. Say all you want about muscle being the new feminine look, get used to it, yadda yadda yadda. Well, I. Like. The. Old. Look. And so do many of the boys. And while I’m not going to become an anorexic, I figured I can preserve the female curves by plumping up a little. Hey, like Ms. Dooda kept telling me, it’s MY body. X-P

Of course, I’d work off the fat around the abs, but I figured the chest and butt could use some more. It’d keep me huggable like an old-school girl, anyway.

So Mom and Dad and I packed up in the Buick and took off to eat. The place was crowded! All the women were swarmed around the buffet line stacking up their plates! It was like a Saturday sale at Wal-Mart!

I quickly realized why: it took me eight trips for me to feel the least bit full! Trip after trip, trying to elbow my way to something I liked, things kept disappearing. And the chicken kebabs and cheesecake vanished as soon as the server put it on! Even the waitresses were getting tired!

Finally, the manager came out and said, sorry folks, we’re out of food. They had to close the buffet down. It sounded like a Jerry Springer episode! Mom, Dad and I paid up, but lots of others wouldn’t, and stormed out angrily without coughing up a cent.

On the ride home, it dawned on me: all these appetites are now multiplied by about 3.2 billion now! And we already have 800 million people facing hunger and malnutrition worldwide! Not only that, in 2003, 36.3 million people in the United States, including 13 million children, had to skip meals or eat less just to make ends meet.

Sure, the men might have smaller appetites now, but that’s nowhere near enough to offset things, what with women’s muscle bodies inflating like wildfire.

You say that the battle of the sexes isn’t a war. Well, at least wars are organized. Starvation riots aren’t! I’m scared that this new change is going to result in a total breakdown in civilization!

What do we do? Anorexia’s looking a lot less unpleasant. :~(

Merita

[JimmyDimples]

From: Arielle Sharper

Dear Ms. Knewsome,

Looking at all these posts, there’s one major thing about Sue’s "Big Sister" idea that I don’t like.

I should have thought of that myself, and didn’t. u.u

Here I am, blessed with the power to help others and set things right, and I’m only worried about how my body looks.

Someone tell Sue to deal me in on this one. In fact, I just had a chat with some of my girls in my church’s youth fellowship. We still have a lot of nun’s habits left over from our production of the play, "Nunsense!" last week. Well, we can’t fit into the robe parts anymore, obviously, but we can still throw on the headgear.

So guys, if any girls are harrassing you at all, and you need an escort, protection, or just someone to talk to, just look for the penguin-heads. And ladies, remember… please be sweet. A nun can do nasty things to the knuckles with a ruler. >;-D

To Pat and the guys in the girlcott… you gotta do what you gotta do. And I say more power to ya. But remember… if you never trust anyone, you’ll never find the good guys.

Jill, Bennett… please: for the literal love of God, give up and turn yourselves in. Your anger will hurt yourselves way more worse than a punch or bullet ever will. And boys, if you have a gun, please turn it in, or at least keep it at home.

There is no shame in turning to someone who wants to help. I’d like to think you’d have done the same back when we girls were the less muscular sex.

I refuse to say "weaker." That’s not weakness. That’s letting them do the Golden Rule.

In His love,

Arielle

[JimmyDimples]

Well, it’s no secret… I’m not in this for the erotica. I find myself going, "Ecch. Bla bla bla, where’s the plot?" and scrolling on down the story.

I’m in this one for the socialogical changes.

But I seem to suffer from Slasher Movie Syndrome. I keep reading a work, and thinking, "I wouldn’t have done anything that stupid or butt-headed." In fact, that’s how I’d been thinking when I wrote Power Play. A scene or two were inspired on how Monty would’ve run the table if he’d been in a similar deal in Transfer Student.

Another thing… I hate it when the good guys get abused with the bad and get nothing to turn it around when the story’s over. I want to see the good guys come out ahead, or at least the baddies put on their shelf. That often isn’t the norm in this genre AFAIK. 🙁

And I guess I like an observer who gets pushed into making a move to affect the story. That’s what happened when I came up with Jimmy Templeton, Patrick O’Brien, Arielle Sharper, and Bennett Maple.

Four characters for the price of one. Wow. That story must’ve REALLY done something.

[JimmyDimples]

To: Marilyn Knewsome (marknew742@gmail.com)

From: Bennett Maple

Re: I AM Dealing With it.

Marilyn (and whoever else gives a rat’s rosy red):

No point in hiding my name, thanks to Mr. Anonymous. Whoever you are, traitor, remember what I said about fingers. Unlike Jill, though, I can mask my IP address, thanks to Mr. H4X0R. And he’s eleven steps ahead of Mr. Norton and Mr. McAfee. So if you want to fry your hard drive or motherboard searching for me, that’s no skin off my nose.

I won’t be in school tomorrow, for obvious reasons. But I’d better set the record straight here.

Thank you for telling me. To be honest, this is far beyond my ability to help. The school authorities are now aware of the situation and with the help of the police will take steps to protect students at the school. Obviously weapons cannot be permitted in a school environment.

"School authorities"? "Help of the police"? Spare me! Have you seen the literal shape of the cops and military lately? And the attitude of those recruits in the military… don’t get me started. The cops couldn’t even keep the guns out the schools BEFORE the Great Muscle Rip-off. And you insult me by saying that a bunch of outnumbered buggy-whips that can barely heft their badges are going to even spook a bunch of monstrosities four times their size?

I know some boys feel they need guns to protect themselves. Let’s think about this for a few minutes. Males have had bigger muscles for all of history. Suddenly the tables are turned, and only now does it become clear that the weaker sex needs murder weapons to protect themselves? Do any of you see the problem here?

The original murder weapon started at the shoulder and ended at the fingertips. And here it’s already killed one guy, probably killed another, and sexually abusing a third. And that’s only what’s been written about here.

And it was the abuse of that murder weapon — by the males in the first place — that inspired Samuel Colt to invent the revolver.

Before the Rip-Off, if a woman felt she needed a handgun to protect herself, would you have talked HER out of it? If a man did, I’d have called him (or her) either an idiot or a predator. And Marilyn, I’m calling you a hypocrite.

You were right on the money on head shots, Andrew. But Anthony can’t wait for the cops to get its little mallards in a queue. And there’s not going to be enough SWAT teams against ALL 150 million women in this country.

The boys have to give up the idea that they are somehow entitled by natural or god-given law to have ultimate power in the battles of the sexes.

What about my Constitution-given right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? We’re not looking for ultimate power, lady! We’re looking for STAYING ALIVE! I am not a slave driver. In fact, before the Rip-Off, I preferred girls and women as friends because they weren’t the buttheads that guys were. But now they’ve proven themselves worse.

That is NOT the same as saying they should be victims. They have to learn new strategies to cope with the Changes and hold their own. I’ve been a female for all of my 24 years, and until last week I’ve been the weaker sex. Guys: Believe me, you can be weaker than girls and still survive very well.

Deal with it!

Survive, maybe. But it’s no way to live.

And "Deal with it" sounds a lot like "spread your legs and enjoy it." I don’t think so. Didn’t before, don’t now.

I hope Anthony is still alive. But the way the world has turned out, I’m wondering if he’s not better off dead.

PP, I feel for you. I honestly do. Sue, thanks anyway. But you’re too late with too little.

To the true guys, remember: we won’t make the first strike. But we fragging WILL get the last one.

[JimmyDimples]

Oh, one last thing, Marknew: if/when Thursday morning rolls around, Patrick O’Brien’s not bringing his gun. He’s leaving it in his sock drawer with the ammo. He believes that the girl-cott and Bennett’s cautions before he flashed his .38 will be effective enough

[JimmyDimples]

To: Marilyn Knewsome (marknew742@gmail.com)

From: Arielle Sharper

Dear Ms. Knewsome,

First off, I am, and always will be, a girly girl. Love it, got the pink lace bedroom and dresser top full of plushies to prove it. ^_^y

And I don’t like the change in strength much at all. First off, I hate the way I look. Sure, my face still looks okay, but I can’t stand looking at myself below the neck. -_-;;

Yes, I know it’s not all bad. It came in handy moving the church piano, I feel great, and all that. And I love being able to say no to some horndog boy more easily. As my great-uncle Max would say, the best sex protection is keeping your legs shut in the first place.

I thought that seeing my girlfriends stronger would be okay. I thought that with more muscle, we’d see a bit more sexual responsibility on both sides.

But from what I see, it’s worse than ever! Many of my girlfriends think they’re bulletproof. They haven’t stopped to think that their muscle won’t protect them from getting pregnant or getting AIDS. ;_;

And they’re parading around and acting so cocky about it. They’re acting like… boys. >.<;;

And this is a little thing, but last Sunday, I was singing a solo for our church’s anthem before the sermon. I used to be a soprano. But all through the piece, I cracked and sounded like Peter Brady on The Brady Bunch! o.O;;;

I tried testing my vocal range at choir practice last night. I’m now a very low alto, if that high! And when we all practiced the hymns, there was very little soprano or bass. It’s all one big mass in one tone! No variety at all!

What are we going to do? Will we have to recruit kids for the high parts? And what if I get bigger?! I don’t want to end up sounding like Barry White! T_T

Crying for help,

Arielle

[JimmyDimples]

Dear Ms. Knewsome,

Thanks very much for your words of support. They mean a lot.

And you’re right on thinking on the next step. I figure, why stop with just my school and internet friends? I think I’ll try writing a letter to the school newspaper. Probably a letter to the editor, too.

Heck with it. I’m going to write a press release about the girl-cott, and send it to the other school newspapers, and the neighborhood radio and TV stations.

It’ll probably wind up in the last two’s circular files, but if so, what have we lost?

Thanks again, Ms. Knewsome. You are one person I’m going to give an exception in all this.

Respectfully yours,

Patrick O’Brien

[JimmyDimples]

To: Marilyn Knewsome (marknew742@gmail.com)

From: Patrick O’Brien

Re: Some Time Apart

Dear Ms. Knewsome,

A buddy of mine passed this e-mail address to me and told me you were reading our notes.

Recently, one of his buddies, Bennett Maple, got rolled in a trash can by Tenny, a girl he used to eat lunch with. Word was he spilled a coke on her by accident. Anyway, after cutting class yesterday afternoon, he came back this morning, and told me to come meet him before Chemistry class. Some of my live-action role-play crew (we play Dungeons and Dragons with foam rubber swords and costumes instead of dice, pencil and paper) did just that. And after talking to us, he suggested we band together so none of us get ganged on by the girls. He had a big bag of stuff from his grand-dad’s military surplus/camping store. He gave us some kind of survival manual. Had info on fistfight dirty tricks and how to improvise self-defense stuff.

We passed notes to him at study hall later that afternoon. He then suggested we remember the buddy system, and keep at least 15 feet away from any girls.

I had been thinking more, and suggested to take it up to the next level: a girl-cott.

Many of my buds have gotten smacked across the hall for just looking at a girl the wrong way. I make a point to keep my eyes trained on their face, but lately, I’ve gotten dirty looks for even that. Well, for the next week, I’d like to try not looking at them the wrong way. Or the right way. Or at all.

No comments. No dates. No help with math homework. No going to girls’ sports. No watching the cheerleaders at boys’s sports, either. No sitting with them at lunch. No watching them at any plays. No free tech support with their computers. Not even for pay, either.

If there’s a guy at the Wal-Mart checkout with a line, or a girl with a register wide open, I’m taking the guy. If there are only girls present at the registers, I’ll shop at another store.

If I have to pair off with a girl on a school project, and the teacher won’t let me choose a guy instead, I’ll take the F.

Obviously, I’ll have to talk to my teachers. And I’ll read your answer if it’s late. But for the next week, I’m going to totally ignore, look past, and sidestep anyone that’s female. In fact, I was planning to stay at least 20 feet away from them, too.

Bennett said he liked the cut of my jib. But he said 15 feet’s plenty. Said he’d explain why at his dad’s paintball range this evening, and said to share the plan with my buds, and invite them along.

I plan to shotgun my girlcott plan to my Internet friends, too. I may extend it if I don’t see some noticeable improvement in girls’ attitudes in general. I don’t know if anyone will read it or take part. But I gotta try. By myself if I have to.

This isn’t easy. This means I’ll have to stop going to LARP. Shame; Jacqueline plays a cute thief.

But something my dad told me… If You Don’t Have Respect, You Have Nothing At All.

Not sure why I’m writing you, since I’m going through with it anyway. Guess I needed to vent. Thanks for that.

Patrick

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