Hello, I’m Saint Stupid — the Patron Saint of Dumb-asses.

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When She Took Control

Gasping for breath while clutching the meat cleaver and continuing to crash head-long through the dense undergrowth, she ran for her young life. Her cape tattered, her breasts slashed and bloodied, she heard them — but did not listen.

“Stop! You’re the victim,” cried the deer.

“Wait for the woodcutter to save you,” called the tree.

“Go back, you’re jus’ a girl,” whispered the path.

“But this isn’t how the story ends,” complained the reader.

“Fuck that shit!” she shouted to the differing voices, “I saw what that asshole did to Granny and besides I think I only wounded the son-of-a-bitch!”