The Unusuals: A True Story

Following is a piece I wrote in response to an essay I had written on prostitution. Paul laughed when he read it, so I figured it might be blog worthy.


The Unusuals: A True Story


It started out like any other Saturday. The per usuals were on the usual channels, my eggs and onions had just come off the frying pan, and my cat was fat and happy after devouring an amount of food that would feed a German shepherd.

I came prepared. Sources? Check. Pencil? Check. Wit? Still asleep, but will arrive soon. Wit was never prompt.

I sat at my computer, opened the file containing my drafts, and began writing. Round two was going a lot better than round one. I relied heavily on my outline to guide me through the paper. Hours went by and everything seemed to be going well. Sure my paper lacked finesse and smooth transitions, and maybe my citations were less than brilliant, and perhaps I sounded a bit repetitive… but who’s counting? It seemed too good to be true; the paper was coming together.

Maybe all those writing center handout were working! With ample resources to answer my questions, I felt unstoppable. What could get me down? Semicolon issues? Not you. Lack of tone and style? Sorry Charlie not today! The paper was far from perfect, but definite progress had been made.

I hoped to make prostitutes everywhere proud. I felt like Joan D’Arc riding in with my banner in hand, come to rescue the sex workers. It was a noble cause. Why rob the rich and feed the poor when I could help prostitutes worldwide? Think of the difference this paper could make…

I was mistaken. This was a very abnormal Saturday.