ADYNATON

There once was a pig, single as can be. He spent all his time mansplaining and manspreading. When he wasn't doing that, he was misinterpreting people's pronouns and generally being a sexist, ageist, housist, beingist, speciest, genderist, traditionalist, ableist, appearanceist, judgementalist, and a horribly discriminatory being.

 

After encountering three  independent, genderfluid, non-binary, mature, capable, wolves, he went on his way in his patriarch mobile.

 

He met the first wolf and said, “Hello! You are a very pretty wolf!”

 

“Excuse me, I do not identify as a ‘wolf’ or however your patriarchal mind labels me.I identify as a straw house, but a cis-pig like you wouldn't be able to understand why an oppressed being like I would have to do such a thing, as you have never experienced the trauma I have. From a young age, I always enjoyed hanging with my house, rather than other ‘wolves’, or however normie scum refers to them. It occurred to me that I, an independent organism, was actually a house. From then on, I identified as a house, or more specifically a straw house. Now unless you are over  seven feet, make seven figures, and will follow my every command, leave.”

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The pig's privilege was then checked.

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He felt very sorry for misidentifying the straw house's gender and was working on his speech that he was hopeful would not offend the next pig, but probably would, since he was a pig.

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He walked up to the second house, knocked on the door and said, “Hello! You look very lovely today!”

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“What did you just say? I'll have you know that I am not to be compared to your general beauty standards. All creatures and objects are beautiful in their own way and DO NOT need validation from inflammatory, offensive, ignorant comments by a dumb, labeling, childish pig.”

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“Forgive me! I do not wish to harm anyone!”

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“Did you just assume that I identify as one? You are making a mockery of my life and what I identify as. I am a sturdy, strong, no mortgage, 17 acre backyard, no down payment, stick house. And if you can't appreciate that, then you can leave.”

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The pig’s privilege was once again, checked.

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He desperately wanted a fresh start, so he left, and proceeded towards the last house, positive that in some way, maybe he could get this next wolf to like him. His strategy this time would be to only say hello, as anything else he might say could offend her.

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The pig got to the house and knocked on the door.

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“Hello,” the pig said.

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There was for a moment silence. The wolf looked befuddled, confused. Then after a few seconds, red with rage.

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“Is that all you’re going to say?! ‘Hello’. GOD WHAT a bland line! Of all the men I could have matched with, I had to be grouped with the worst of the bunch. And no compliment? No flowers? No chocolate? No present? No horse drawn carriage? UGH! Chivalry is dead.”

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And she slammed the door.

The End