A Story Of Drunken Sexual Agression, as told in the style of Jane Austen


I wrote this re-telling in 2012 and liked it so much I thought, “Why not re-blog it.”

If you don’t like reading Jane Austen its okay, not all of it is written in this style. You’ll see.

 

The setting, a quaint country inn amidst the revelry and splendour of the country.

The protagonist, a thirsty gentleman of noble quality, kind and sincere with the utmost regard for humanity. (me)

The Antagonist, an ill reputable woman of abysmal character with nefarious purposes.

Whence upon my journey I found the need, nay the necessity to imbibe a little. The roads being that they were excessively boring and fraught with much grief, I embarked upon a local watering hole to quench my inexhaustible thirst.

Trotting down a cobble stone road on my trusty Horse “Nissan” I spotted what shall forever be remembered as a fateful stop.

Upon entering this “tavern” (if one could call it that) one was met with the aroma of yeast mixed with bleach and a strong stench of air freshener. This particular tavern hadn’t seen a good year since the early Victorian period. (Or as I like to call it, the Nixon administration)

Behind the bar counter stood a man resolute and with the cracked expression of the laborer class. He coughed up a question, “What will you have?” “Bar keep, give me your finest beer, the thoroughfare is quite exhausting this afternoon,” I stated proudly. The beer shot forth from the tap like a gryphon swooping to the kill. The finest glass of beer was set beforth me and I duly imbibed. Upon releasing the beer from my quenched lips I set my glass down,  and that is when I heard….. it.

Or rather a thing. A creature unknown to any archaeologist NAY an exorcist, crept forward from its shadows. This creature with a cigarette in its hand stepped toward me intent on its purpose of destruction. “YAH GOT A LITE!? It screeched. “Um no, sorry.” I offered, not trying to make eye contact. “Yah know? I should quit these things,” it countered trying to strike up a conversation trap. I begrudgingly raised my eyebrows, not reciprocating any sort of reply.

The creature offered small talk the same way a small child shats its diapers thinking it has accomplished a great task,  “You ain’t from round here…. Yah got a girlfriend?” “You are right young lady I am not from these lands, I hail from parts west…. And no, I do not have a lady friend.”

This last piece of information was my undoing.

The creature delighted at my admission, moved closer to me. Its cheap vodka breath splashing my face like vomit hitting the pavement. “Now hold on there Stella!” Said the bar keep sensing some kind of danger. “Ain’t nothing wrong, I jus talkin,” said the creature.

Before I could say anything the creature had placed its hand on my lap and looked longingly in my eyes for a spark of sexual appetite, “my name’s Stella, nice to meet you.” Utterly aghast, “young lady please take your hand off of my genitalia” I said with firm resoluteness. “Stella get your hand off his junk!” Said the bar keep.

“I WILL NOT!” said Stella, daring nay HOPING one of us would touch her and thereby ignite a fire in her loins. Like a slippery eel I slipped from her clutches WITHOUT placing a hand on her warm mole bespeckled stretched skin. The bar-keep sensing a moment of escape screamed at me, “RUN! Get out of here!” Much to the arguing between Stella and the bar keep I retreated to my trusty steed trying to forget this entire moment.

That, Ladies and Gentlemen is how I drank half of a free beer and escaped from the clutches of a most horrid woman.

Yes…. That was a true story.

About MaximumWage

Everyday I put on my "I can do it" underpants followed by my I'm trying to lose weight pants, followed by my "I'm still kind of young" shirt followed by a belt and then polish it off with a nice smile to finish the ensemble. I don't wear shoes.
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11 Responses to A Story Of Drunken Sexual Agression, as told in the style of Jane Austen

  1. Andrew says:

    So many good parts to this. It’s nice reading something that grotesque can be written so beautifully. Well done sir.

  2. I have a tough time picturing a healthy male running like a screaming girl. Please enlighten me in my blindness. The story is good reading but if it is true…..

  3. Meghna N says:

    Haha! Enjoyed this. But why would the bartender shout “RUN! Get out of here!”? Its just good ol’ Stella!

  4. Pyx says:

    For a moment I thought you might have been caught in Pride and Prejudice and Zombies – and were going to be left with no alternative but to decapitate good Ole’ Stella but clearly you have such an admirable quality in gentlemanly restraint and chose instead to run.

    Well done!

  5. I really really want to read part II of this.

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