Qualia

But what about Jacob? His swollen thighs are affectionately called “yams” as they protrude through his basketball shorts, that he arrogantly shows off everyday and props on his desk as if he’s trying to attract the next wolf in a dark literature smut novel. Im used to being told to cover up my body, but not in front of a man who so eagerly wants attention for his. Why haven’t they told him anything yet? 

Let me guess, they are trying to protect me. The bad man in the bushes must have made it in the building to rape me specifically because my thick yams are easier to spread than Jonathan’s. Telling me to put on longer pants so the savage, flesh hungry clients don’t harass me, but I don’t think he understands that they harass me anyway, even when I wear turtle necks and dress pants. The thought of being pretty at work brings me great shame. 

I hate to break it to my company though, my need to be free in my shorts supersedes what they believe, and the violence that rages in me   wishes one of them would touch thy thee. I’ll cut necks and fingers, put them on display, like Jonathan does with his thighs, and smile like a wolf at play. Are they scared of the man the bushes? 

Are they scared of what he may do? Or are they scared of me? A hurt woman can make violence look true.  

Well, the manager telling me to go home is telling me to hide, and hiding is something I don’t do. Will they tell Jacob to go home and hide inside his catacomb? I think not. If his safety isn’t at risk with any man than neither is mine, and today I will take stand against workplace policy, and show off my thighs for 8 hours at a time.