By Michael O'Hare
Forward by Josef Stalin

Josef Stalin is dead, and therefore cannot write anymore. I'm sorry. I really am.

It was a beautiful day. The sun cast its warm, lifegiving rays upon a world vibrant with life and joy, as the sound of birds singing mingled in with the sounds of human civilization driving onwards. To simply step outside was to witness the full beauty of life.

I, however, would have none of that. I had chosen to spend this day inside an air-conditioned building, commonly known as a mall, and uncommonly known as Steve. Having accomplished my primary goal of buying a cookie, and my secondary goal of eating that cookie, I went on to find a place where I could possibly buy the DVD version of American Psycho, with the hopes that I would get drunk later that night and recreate the "DO YOU LIKE HUEY LEWIS?" scene with an unwitting and unfortunate friend.

Perhaps that is how this day would have gone, were it not for the fact that I spotted a pantsless man stumbling through the mall, a panicked look of fear in his eyes, his boxers stained with what I presumed, and hoped, was only urined. Normally, one would choose to ignore this pathetic sight before them, but I was raised to take action when action was needed. So, seeing the gravity of the situation before me, I decided to act.

"Hey, buddy," I said, "you're not wearing pants. Ha, ha, ha. I laughed at you because of your lack of pants. Faggot. You're a faggot. I've deduced this from the fact that you're not wearing pants. You're not wearing pants, and that makes you a faggot, faggot."

When I said I was raised to take action, I should specify that the majority of that action was mocking and taunting those worse off than me. Usually through using the word faggot, even though I don't really have anything against homosexuals. After all, Freddie Mercury was gay. So was Alexander the Great.

Anyway, upon hearing me, the panstless man ran up to me, his eyes full of fear and desperation.
"You've got to help me!" he screamed desperately
"What happened?" I asked. "Someone steal your pants? If someone did, I'm sorry I called you a faggot."
"NO!" he yelled, on the verge of tears. "I took them off on purpose!"

Upon hearing that, I honestly should have just dropped my cookie and run like the devil himself, pitchfork in the air and cloven hooves shattering floor tiles. However, I made the mistake of staying put and listening to the mad, pantsless man.

"Why'd you do that, you faggot?" I asked.
"My rights are being violated!" he responded.
"You took your pants of because your rights were being violated?" I laughed. "By who?"
"No!" he yelled. "My pants were already off before my freedoms were stolen from me!"
"Oh, I see." Despite the clearly comical situation I was in, I decided to try to take as much of it seriously as I could. "Well, if the government is robbing you of your rights, then there's only one man to turn to: El Santo, the Sliver Maskman, the greatest professional wrestler, vampire and demon hunter, and all around human being to ever exist. If our prayers are strong enough, he shall rise from his grave in Mexico to do battle with - "
"No, it's not the government that's oppressing me," the pantsless man interrupted. "It's the mall security."

I paused, a combination of anger and confusion washing over me. The anger came from this pantsless son of a bitch interrupting my El Santo speech. Let me tell you something: Nobody interrupts my goddamned El Santo speech. I've killed people for that, you hear me? And don't think I won't slit your throat if you ever interrupt my El Santo speech. You don't think I'll do it? Come on, bitch, I dare you.

Anyway, the confusion came from the fact that the mall's security had somehow found a way to violate someone's government - ordained rights. Curious, I pressed on.

"How are they doing that?" I asked.
"They stopped me from masturbating in the middle of the mall," the man responded.

It was at that point that I realized that I was talking to a complete and utter idiot, and that I should never have spoken to him any further than the taunting I gave him, much less asked what he did. One would think that the lack of pants would be a strong enough hint, but I had to choose to ignore it.

"You were masturbating in the middle of the mall?" I asked. "Why the Holy, Blazing Hell were you masturbating in the middle of the mall?"
"Because I wanted to."
"That's not a good reason!" I said angrily. "You can't just commit a crime in the middle of a public place because you wanted to!"
"What crime was I committing?" he asked with an incredibly indignant tone.
"Indecent exposure, you idiot." The vacant, confused stare he gave me in response the response I got for about ten seconds before he finally sprang to life again.

"No, you don't."
"No. Shut up."
"No," I quickly interrupted. "We're not having a revolution because the police won't let you jerk yourself in the middle of the mall."
"What about my rights?" he screamed angrily.
"You do NOT have the right to masturbate in public," I responded, before quickly taking another bite out of the delicious cookie which I had bought with my own money, which I had earned instead of having it given to me like so many other people.
"It's freedom of expression!" he yelled back angrily.
"Expression of what?" I asked.
"Of my imagination and my inspiration!" he yelled. "I'm expressing my soul through my works!"
"Bullshit," I replied. "You just want people to pay attention to you and your vulgarities, is all. You're an attention whore with no understanding of what you're doing, or its implications." I threw my cookie at him and bought a new one, as the previous one had lost its taste. The pantsless activist, stunned by the combination of my words and white chocolate chips, could not respond.

"But... But..."
"Sorry," I said, "but you're wrong. Take him away, boys." With that, the police who had arrived while we were talking carted the pantsless crusader away, his once defiant voice cracking and shattering into a high-pitched whine of "I HAVE MY RIGHTS! I HAVE MY RIGHTS!" Upon hearing this, I grabbed him by the shirt collar and stared angrily into his eyes.
"What about the rights of that little girl?" I asked angrily.
"You're a loose cannon, O'Hare!" the chief yelled angrily. "You're breaking every rule in the book!"
"Yeah," I responded grimly as I shoved the scumbag away from me, "BUT I GET RESULTS!"

With that, I left the scene, sliding across the hood of my police car to the driver's side, and speeding off to fight more crime of some manner or another.


This story is in sole ownership of the author. The 80's police show references are in ownership of me, as well. I own everything. I am the Ever-Living. I am the All-Consuming Spiral at the center of the void. In all of the world, you must fear one thing: You must fear the All-Consuming Spiral.

Kids, let's sit down and look at what's happened to on these days. Apparantly, Xing decided that would be a better place if the NC-17 stories were all removed, and never allowed back on again. Well, okay, that's alright, I really can't see any bad coming out of this. Let's see what's new at OH MY GOD IN HEAVEN LOOK AT ALL THE PETITONS AND WHINING JESUS CHRIST ON A SCARECROW HE'S USING AS A POGO STICK TO SAVE PRINCESS LUNA WITH THE HELP OF A RACOON NAMED ROCKY YOU PEOPLE ARE EXPLOING INTO A GIGANTIC RIVER OF CRYBABY!

I suppose it shouldn't be incredibly surprising to see that so many people are exploding with flavor and anger over this decision, which I am trumpeting as the forces of decency and civility triumphing over the barbarians and their depraved atrocities, and declaring to be a victory for the people's party in memory of Comrade Stalin himself. But, shit, people, don't start screaming about your rights being violated like the KGB just came in and beat your parents to death because they were protesting Stalin's rise to power. They're crappy sex stories about fictional characters, some not even old enough to do that sort of thing.

And, yes, they're crappy. They're all so very crappy. So very crappy and bad and just... Jesus, they're crappy. Really...

... Crappy.

Bailing that, I can understand that you're upset because decided it didn't want to show off your dirty Digimon rape fics, anymore. But, this isn't something you compare to the Nazi persecution of Jews. Seriously, kids. Xing just said he didn't want your dirt all over his house, I don't think he's shot anybody yet. I don't think he's gassed writers. So far, the NC-17 people have yet to be turned over to Dr. Mengele for horrible, horrible experiments.

Do you see where I'm going with this? Do you? I really hope you do, because it's really fucking annoying that you people are comparing your pissy little problems to one of the darkest moments in human history.

And, as for the First Amendment yelling, please stop that, too, okay? According to the First Amendment, congress is not allowed to create or pass any law prohibiting free speech. I'm not exactly sure when Xing became a member of congress, but he should have told us about... Oh, wait, you mean he's NOT a member of congress. Well, shit, folks, then I guess you're out of luck, eh? Looks like your rights are still intact, but your stories just kind of blew up because you kind of took advantage of a website's generousity.


So, in short, your constitutional rights are NOT being trampled on. All that is being denied is the ability for you to display your incredible sexual frustrations through Harry Potter and Cardcaptor Sakura sex stories. Go start a Geocities site and conduct your pedophile fantasies over there, in private. I think they're illegal, anyway, so you might want to take that into consideration, as well.

I'm very glad we were able to have this talk. I really do hope we were able to connnect. If not, I hope you'll at least keep in touch with me. You're a special friend.