Saturday

Staging Your Rape

Apparently, every rape report is a potential false accusation. You, as the victim, are actually guilty (of the false allegation) until you prove that you're innocent. This scenario isn't about the perpetrator, it is about your character. So, I'm going to help you stage your rape, so that it will have a better likelihood of going into the investigation bin, instead of the trash bin.

Make sure the day is Sunday. This is an optimal day as it is a day that the Lord has made. Put on your Sunday best and brightest colors. Carry only the Bible in your purse--your thickest, heaviest version. And of course, attend service--all day and afternoon.

Afterward, return home the scenic route. It would be best if your path was through the woods, or another area where there are homes that are spaced by acres. Mid-way through your trip, find a good spot, preferably by a tree, and get ready to do the dirty work. Lie down in the dirt and grass. Dig the soil with your nails. Roll around. Rip your jacket open so that the 3 buttons are popped off. Remove your underwear and throw them somewhere. Tear your skirt. Frazzle your hair, picking up a few leaves and other debris to place within. Take your purse, and beat the ground with it. And last, scream as loud as you can.

Get up and go directly to the police station. Please make sure you are crying, sobbing, and hysterical. Tell them you have been attacked--but let them inquire about whether you were raped. Give your best description of the latest 40 year old bum or greasy auto-mechanic that you've seen. Please don't describe him as anything you would consider attractive or kempt. If you are White, consider describing a dark, chocolaty Black man.

I know you're thinking, but what about evidence of anal, oral, vaginal penetration? Well, hopefully, you didn't have sex on Thursday, Friday, or Saturday, else they may accidentally manhunt your lover. Don't fixate on this too much. A little old lady, resident of one of the homes in the woods, heard you scream. She saw that bright pink outfit that you're wearing--it contrasted the dimly lit sky. She thought it was odd to see your car to the side of the road--but hey, you don't run over animals that cross. And she (the old lady) had heard that some Black man was on the loose. She called the police before you ever showed up.

You're safe now.

Please return so that I can tell you how to fake your death.



Image courtesy of ArtConstellation.

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