Political Fiction Flash Stories
© Copyright Cupideros, Wednesday, December 23, 2015
1,392 words 

Tessie "Pinkie" Zange stumbles upon two male colleagues arguing that feminist women are dumb and stupid; she decides to jump in, defending the man who asserted women are not dumb and stupid, only things do not turn out as she expects.


Tessie "Pinkie" Zange was doing something for feminism.  Today, she wore black yoga pants and a pink top, having donated all her dresses to the Goodwill, last week.  She recently decided to drop the T(rans) members from her radical feminist activities, to keep consistent with her theory, for improving feminist discussions, at the same time to clear her mind about her goals in her graduate Women's Studies program. 
"Women are dumb. I'm telling you, Cliff.  If you asked them to sabotage themselves, they'll do it, not just once, but every time, ten times in a row."
Leo wore an orange shirt and blue jeans.

"You're crazy, Leo Flamel," the buff straight man Cliff, in a yellow shirt and red shoes, commented and pointed an accusing finger at his equally straight male friend.  "That's why tons of women are faking like they're lesbians, to stop trolls like you from asking them out."
The two men came closer and closer to Tessie who strolled directly toward them, for her car was parked twenty feet away behind them.
"What?  Sit back and wait for ages, for you, Cliff to wheedle your way into their friendszone."
"I never get friendzoned."
Cliff had a load of books, as did Tessie.  Leo had a small book on political science.  Leo looked good, but Cliff looked downright gorgeous.
Tessie smiled.  Now here before her, a man approached worthy of dating, possibly even more.
"I don't want to hear any more about it, Leo.  You're an ass."
"I'll prove my point,” He turned away from Leo to Tessie, as they now walked within five feet of one another.  Tessie walked on the right side closer to Cliff.
"Hey broad," Leo called out.
"Don't call her a broad. She's a woman."
"I'm not a broad," Tessie decided to stand up for herself.
"I'm tired of your shit, Cliff," Leo said, "Get friendzoned again.  I'm going to watch the football game."
Cliff stopped immediately.  He snarled, at his college friend.  "Good riddance.  Jerk."  He turned to Tessie.  "I apologize.  I'm sorry you had to hear that.  I was afraid he'd embarrass me, again.  It's the second time he's done that this week."
"I'm glad you support women.  Are you a feminist?  Because, we could use a few good men."
"No, I just don't think women are that dumb.  We had no sisters, grew up around brothers."
"What's his problem?"
"He thinks a woman is a concept, an idea?  All that Trans nonsense."
"Women grow up female he can't understand.  It's a lie men saying they feel like a woman."
"I understand some of what they think.  Men can do some things a woman can?"
"Like what?"'
"Have a baby?"
The disbelief shocked Tessie.  "Have a baby?"  She chortled, so hard, her college books almost fell."
"You don't think I can have a baby?"
"Not one in your mind.  It's an involved process."
"How much you wanna bet I can have a baby?"
"You're kidding.  Don't be ridiculous."
"Bet, bet, bet," he said angrily. 
"Bet you can have a baby?  I'd win without thinking about it."
"Okay.  Whoever can have a baby first has to buy the other person lunch and cannot change the topic of conversation for a year."
"That so freakin easy.  I have to go.  I don't want to take your money, Cliff."
"Or lose your own hard-earned money--graduate student."
"How do you know I'm a graduate student?"
"You're gender studies books, Man and His Place in Society; Women in Man's Environmental Science."
"You sound like a decent guy.  I can't take your cash."
"Scaredy-cat.  Lay down woman; rollover feminist."
"I rejected all that 90s advice from psychological experts that women should lie down and let themselves get raped or assaulted; that survival at all cost is the safest option B.S..  And I can have a baby before you.  Simple biology.  I have a cunt, uterus and breasts to feed it."

Tall, gorgeous history graduate student, Monica Poindexter, Tessie's best friend sauntered up from the political science building behind her.  "How's your day, Tessie?"
"Annoying.  This guy says he can have a baby before me."
Monica shook her head, "I'm tired of this Trans nonsense with a capital T.  Bullshit in your head doesn't make you a woman," she barked at handsome Cliff.  You can say you're a unicorn next week.  I won't believe it, even if you strap a pointed candy cane to your forehead.  Stop wasting, your time, Tessie.  I have to finish Sun Tzu's Art of War before the end of the week," Monica said stomping off.
"Your friend is a scaredy-cat, too."
"I'll do it just to show you, Cliff.  Neither she nor I is afraid."
"Yeah!" said Cliff stoking his anger and need to prove Tessie wrong.
"Heck, Yeah!" said Tessie, totally fuming at the idiocy of his proposition.  "I'm warning you, I come from a fertile family.  I can get pregnant like that," Tessie snapped her fingers, and pushed her long brunette hair back behind her back.  Where shall we meet in nine months?"
"Right here!" Cliff huffed, his blue eyes, fiery and intense.
"You got it," countered Tessie, her bright-blue eyes rumbled as excitement filled her being.  "I'm always walking by this way, every three days." 

The two unlikely contestants vigorously shook hands, each convinced of their position.

Tessie got in her car and finally relaxed.  "What the fuck?  I can't let him beat me.  I'll have to get pregnant.  I'm getting old anyway.  I've been in college like a decade, forever trying to get this PhD." 
Tessie drove home and talked it over with her ex-boyfriend.  He was delighted that she returned to him and finally wanted to have their child. 


Three days later, Tessie didn't feel too good.  In fact, she planned to buy a pregnancy kit.  If pregnant, she would beat Cliff from having a girlfriend deliver a baby in nine months.  It'll take Cliff's girlfriend at least a month deciding to interrupt her life, potentially, to take care of a child for eighteen years.  Men were so damn irresponsible. 

Tessie's feet walked lighter over the dover-white sidewalk as she neared the political science building going home, when Cliff rushed up to her, carrying something in his arms and said, "I have a baby?"
"Awe.  That's cute."
"I won the bet.  I have a baby."
"It is not your baby."
"It is so."
"You can't have a baby!"
He held it out for Tessie to see.  "Cute little baby boy."
"Yours? You already had a child?"
"I did not.  But I must say three days isn't bad for speed in gaining one.  You feminist think you're so damn smart."
"Wait a second, Cliff," Tessie cleared her throat.  "That is not what I meant.  I meant have a real baby.  I went and got pregnant.  I'll have to struggle to juggle finishing my PhD."
"Not my problem.  I have my baby.  I don't care that much about the lunch, Tessie, but the conversations," he said in a sly tone.  He laughed, too.  He leaned back bragging, "Those conversations, I look absolutely forward to."
"But you won't have the baby for eighteen years like me."
"I'm sorry you didn't clarify the terms of our agreement."  He held the baby up, placed it on his shoulders and burped it.  "That is a good little man."
Tessie stood there aghast in shock, her cupid bow lips open, and subtly enticing to Cliff.
"You have a sexy mouth.  I bet we're going to have a fun time talking about porn, and how much women like to suck cock, and how men created everything in history--worth creating."  He swayed back and forth holding the baby, as they stood in front of the political science building.  "I'm a politics graduate.  I've studied history.  Women just don't have a good grasps on the competitive nature of inspiring change."
"You lied you sneaky bastard!"'
"Could be, but under the terms we established, Tessie, you agreed, too.  I'll expect you to be here tomorrow about this same time, for lunch and some good old-fashion man to woman communication."
Cliff ambled off talking to the baby boy.  "We taught that hoe a lesson in politics didn't we, boy?  Didn't we?"
The baby boy gurgled.


Political Fiction Flash Stories
© Copyright Cupideros, Wednesday, December 23, 2015
968 words 

Ava, former high school track sprinter, is pulled into a contest with Eaton and the winner has to reject or accept feminism.


On the back of Ava Marcado's light-pink shirt read the words "Feminist Forever, Down with the Patriarchy," her tight black shorts, white little socks and pink shoes flashed a fashion statement treat me like the high-maintenance woman I am.

The man running around Ava circled her six times.  And six times, Ava ignored the movie-star jock dashing around the track, lapping her, with his spiky waves of rich black hair and superfriendly-looking blue eyes enticing the mom-woman in her to surface.  She needed some cock bad.  Two weeks passed since her last sexual fling. 

Now Eaton Stumpy bent at the waist holding his knees, breathing hard in his blue shorts, yellow wristbands and a red cutoff-sleeve shirt.  He cut a shapely figure of a man.  He raised his handsome, sweaty faced and stared at the hundred yards ahead.  He turned back and watched Ava approaching him, slowing down her jog strides.

Ava knew what was coming. 

He's going to try to ask me out.  He'll act all cocky, and sure, to give off an Alpha male aura.  Ava had seen it all before, a hundred times a thousand times.   She slowed and came to a stop beside Eaton.  "Hi, I'm, Ava."
"I'm Eaton."
Ava caught her breath.  "You're fast."
"You have great stamina."

Isn't he going to ask me out?  I should tell him I'm BI or a lesbian to shoot down his hopes.  "I can run fast, too.  Most days, I jog for endurance to keep my weight down."
He laughed.  Eaton shook his head.  "If every girl was overweight like you, all the men would be married by now."
"I'm a feminist, too."  Ava paused.  "That slows some men down."
"Yea, you're right.  Feminist.  They think they can do everything."
"We can."
"If that was so, how come women in positions of power are still acting like men?  It's not making a world of difference with women being in power."
Ava pulled the rubber band off her shoulder-length black ponytail.  "Not enough of us."
"You really think you can beat me to that hundred-yard road marker in the grass?"
"Of course."
Eaton scratched his head.  "I wanted to date you, but now it seems I must put myself in the friendszone for competition's sake."
"We don't have to race," Ava said, after smiling.

"I'm afraid we do.  It's the principle of the thing. You can't beat me--I'm a man."
"I can."
Eaton moved three feet from her toward the inside lane of the track.  "First one to that orange and white horizontal road sign wins and," he paused, "the loser has to apologize and if it is you, you have to admit, feminism is bad for women and men."
"You, Eaton, have to admit feminism is good for men and women if I win."  Ava flashed a bright-tooth smile.  Ava ran track in high school, but gave it up to become a premedical student.

Eaton jumped up and down.  He shook out his arms and fingers trying to relax his entire body.
"Loosening up.  That's good, Eaton.  You're a professional sprinter."
"You're coming to your senses.  I wanted to date you, but let's postpone that," he said bending down on his knees placing his two hands on the yellow start line."

"Beat him, Ava!" yelled, Ava's heterosexual friend, Pazia Katz.
"Hmmm, even the audience is stacked in your favor."  Eaton winked at Ava and narrowed his eyes seductively.
Ava finally bounced on her toes, alert, readying herself to sprint. 

Suddenly, Eaton stopped and stood up.  "You're so freaking attractive," his voice almost sang to her.  Standing so close, their eyes locked.

Ava felt the pull of love or lust or some inexplicable tension. 
"I'm really a chivalrous kind of guy.  Let me tie your pink shoelace that came loose."

Eaton bent down,

Ava blushed and looked up to Pazia her friend. 
Pazia glared, sending back a baffled look.
Ava shrugged her shoulders and grinned.

Eaton stood up.  He looked at her for a long time, for three seconds that lasted an eternity to them both.  He returned three feet from her and got on his hands and knees.  "When I say three?"
"You can count if you want."
So seductive and easy to listen to him, Ava loved to hear his voice.  "No.  You count Eaton."

Both started running.
Pazia shouted, "Get him, Ava!"

Ava crashed flat on her face after just two steps.
Eaton dashed fluidly and effortlessly, his head held high, his dark spiky hair dancing like bent fire in the win and he crossed the finish line first.

Ava laughed.  "Damn sneaky idiot tied my shoe strings together."

Eaton jogged back.  "Told you I can beat you!"
"You don't seriously think I'm going to apologize and admit feminism is bad when you cheated."
"Ava, if I'd have lost to you, I'd admit feminism is good for men and women.  Unfortunately, I won."
”You cheated," Ava said, standing up after she untied her shoe strings and retied them properly on each shoe.

"First rule of any contest is never trust the competition.  A win is a win; so how about it, Ava?"
"One lie deserves another," Ava said, staring him in his eyes and she turned and walked off the track toward her friend.
Eaton yelled, "Men have been at competition for a longer time.  I suggest you read up on Sun Tzu or the Hagakure and other martial books or patriarchy will always win!"
Ava turned back and shouted, "You're friendzoned, Eaton!"
"Another woman will get me out; you can bet on that!"
"Not all friendzones look-alike, Eaton; some just come with a jailer--woman attendant."



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