A FEATURE presentation from themanwhofellasleep:


Jack rolled over and lazily kissed Sheryl's stomach. They were lying in bed on a Sunday morning and shafts of dusty sunlight were waking them from a hot, restless slumber.

"Don't kiss me there. I'm fat. My stomach's huge," she said.

"I like your stomach," he said, nuzzling her.

"It's fat and I am ugly. My arse is huge.'

"Your arse is not huge. It is normal. You shouldn't read those women's magazines. They give you the impression that you ought to be some kind of supermodel," he brushed the sleep out of his eyes, and flicked it again the room.

"They liberate me..." she said, glassy eyed, "...from the tyranny of patriarchal oppression."

"And anyway,"she continued,"They're better than your bloody men's magazines - all topless girls and cars."

"You're probably right...and yet.." Jack stared at a fly crawling across the far wall.

He KNEW he was right!


Jack piled the magazines into a heap in the garden. By now he was sweating heavily and cackling. He struck the match and the flames licking higher, illuminating his twisted features. It all went up in smoke - the exclusive interview with Kylie, the pros and cons of cosmetic surgery, the fifteen all-new-sex-surveys. He would show her...he would show all of them...

Maybe he couldn't get Sheryl back, but he could show her that he was more man than Christian, more man than any of the impossible himbos spread over the centrfolds of her magazines.