Ivy steps onto an empty stage, a single spotlight on her. Behind the curtain, you can hear a group of teenage girls playing pool. She bites her lip and waves at the poor reader. Taking a deep breath, she starts to speak.

"Before you read, you should know.

This is pure, unredeemable smut. Smutsmutsmut.

Why? Because, woman and I like smut.


Now, we also like boys.

Sometimes girls, too. But that's usually woman, anyway.

Well, yeah. So, we like it when there's lots of boys and no annoying female heroines.

None whatsoever.

No female love interest.

So naturally, we like slash.

You know, boys humping boys, yaoi, shounen ai, slashiness, june, gay, whatever.

Is fun.

So don't come crying to us if this scars you.

If you think you can handle the homos, go right ahead.

Oh, and don't kill us for making a blatant parody of a key fic. This wound up being more social commentary smut, and we do enjoy reading key fics. Even the bad ones. Okay! Go on!"

Fifteen boxes of candy cigarettes.

Fourteen days away from email access.

Thirteen viewings of Wayne's World 2, Little Nicky, and Monty Python altogether.

Twelve hours of sleep a week, total.

Eleven references to nipple piercings.

Ten years of Catholic education, respectively.

Nine refrains from Tom Jones songs.

Eight air hockey matches.

Seven naughty t-shirt slogans.

Six too many "key" fanfics.

Five talented music groups and artists.

Four hot foreign guys.

Three bottles of Moxie.

Two bored teenage girls with hyperactive, perverted, and yaoi-friendly imaginations.

One pair of faux leopard fur lined handcuffs.

A parody asking to be made.