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How to Make Rape Funny

So.... this might be a little awkward.  I don't normally post short stories on my blog (I think I've only ever done it once before), and I also don't normally write introductions to my stories before I tell them.  But in this case, I think a brief warning might be warranted.

The following story was written after I watched that abysmal movie, A Haunted House 2.  Among AHH2's many crimes against comedy is a scene where a guy goes to prison and is about to get raped by a bunch of other men.  (You may recall that I complained about this at length about a month ago.) The scene was terrible - more for the lack of effort than for the subject matter.

I'm all for freedom of speech and being politically incorrect as the next guy, but if you're going to do something that's blatantly offensive and in poor taste, you might as well try to be funny about it.  I thought that was the point of a joke?

Anyway, I know that every six months somebody makes a joke about rape and then everybody starts getting cranky about it, so I figured I would challenge myself by trying to make prison rape funny. This is the best I came up with on short notice.

(PS - I'm sorry in advance.)

Fresh Fish had a gait that just told the world he was asking for it.  Hi-Ball knew it.  Mick knew it.  All the lifers on the East Block knew it.  Just a matter of time before somebody stretched him out and made him sing the Folsom Prison Blues.

Really, it shouldn't have been a surprise for him when he came into the shower that day.  Fish trembled with every step, eyes darting nervously in all directions to guess at who'd come after him first.

Hi-Ball grinned as he sloshed lather over his neck.  They didn't have to take him - there were guys who'd bend over willingly if they were in the mood.  But Fish couldn't even put soap to his skin without every motion in his body screaming, "Rape me!"  How do you leave a pussy like that alone?

So Hi-Ball rinsed off and nodded knowingly at the other East Block boys.  The Yellow Menace?  They didn't care about a white guy.  They bailed.  The Brotherhood?  They still owed him one.  They left.  Anybody that wasn't part of Hi-Ball's crew rinsed off and hightailed it.  Just Hi-Ball, Mick, and the other four who didn't actually have a clever name yet, but who ate together and thought of themselves as "The Gang."

The Gang crowded around Fresh Fish while he was awkwardly poking his armpit with the soap, soft squeaks of misery coming out of him.

"Yo, Fish!" Hi-Ball shouted.  "You need a friend?"

Two of The Gang shot out suddenly and grabbed Fish's arms, pinning him against the wall.  Hi-Ball reached down to make sure he had a hard one, then laughed, "Don't worry, brother, I'll still respect you in the morning."


"Jesus Christ!" Mick shouted.  "Jesus Christ!"

Hi-Ball froze in terror, one fist still wrapped around the base of his erection.  It was now covered in a thick glaze of liquid shit.

"What the fuck?" he mused.

"Please don't!" Fish squeaked.

"Yo!  What the fuck?!" Hi-Ball's fury came out suddenly.


A stream of hot brown flew out of Fish's anus, a perpendicular Old Faithful from Hell, aimed squarely at Hi-Ball's crotch.  The blast spattered him up to his nipples.

"Sorry!" Fish trembled.  "I'm so sorry!"

"Oh... oh, you fucker!"  Hi-Ball motioned to The Gang at Fish's arms.  "Crack his fucking head open!"

They loosened their grip enough to make fists and pulled back for a swing.


The one on the left caught the diarrhea spray on this knees and stumbled backward with dismay.  The one on the right managed to dodge the stream and simply put his hands up in surrender.

"No way, man," he said.  "That's above my pay-grade."  He backed away from the shit puddle that was pooling on the floor, rinsed his feet off, and left.

Hi-Ball stammered and wriggled with anger.  Fish turned around to catch a glimpse of his snarl and apologetically mumbled, "I'm so sorry!  Sorry!  I... it's this disorder I have.  Ever since I was a kid.  When I get really scared, I just... I just...."


Another jet caught the wall behind him, staining it suddenly.

Mick whistled, impressed.  "How much do you have in you?"

Hi-Ball pointed at Mick and boomed, "Shut up."  Then, to Fish, he said, "You just disrespected me.  If your ass ain't up for the task, then you better get down on your knees to make up for it."

Fish looked down at Hi-Ball's shitty boner and turned pale.


The flood of vomit streaked in a perfect arc, unpersuaded by the shower-heads above, and landed right on the tip of Hi-Ball's urethra.  For a moment, he could swear he felt a chunk of digested cornbread make its way partially in.

"Gah!" he yelped, tugging his penis away from the flow and waggling it in the shower.  "Watch it!"

"Sorry," Fish said, wiping a corner of his mouth.  "Sometimes I vomit, too."

"Son of a bitch!" Hi-Ball shrieked.  "You know what?  I don't even care if you're shitting!  You're getting this!  Pin him down!"

At that, The Gang grabbed Fish again and put him to the wall as Hi-Ball slung a damp hand full of mess off to his side and charged, dick-first....


The spray of diarrhea bounced off of Hi-Ball and splattered forward, smothering his compatriots, while at the same time the flood of vomit that came from the front bounced off the wall and showered back at them.

For a moment, all they could do was stare while pieces clung to their skin, then smacked wetly against the tile below.

"Sorry," Fish said.

"Fuck this," said one of The Gang, retreating from Fish.  "Jerry was right, man.  We don't gotta take this." Then he shot a finger into Hi-Ball's face and said, "You didn't even share those Twinkies."

"Yeah," said another.  "I ain't dealing with this shit."

They let go of Fish and went off to take a proper shower.  Mick and the last of The Gang looked at each other and shrugged.

"They got a point," Mick said.

Hi-Ball gagged on his words.  "Fuck you!  Both of you get the fuck outta here and I'll take him myself!"

Mick sighed and patted Hi-Ball on the shoulder on his way out.  "It's okay, man.  I'll tell everybody he screamed."

"Get out!"

Soon it was just the two of them, the running water, and the contents of Fish's bowels.  The smell was somehow getting worse the more it ran down the drain.

Hi-Ball just stood there, staring down at Fish with flaring nostrils.  Fish trembled and offered a nervous smile.

"Did you want to rape me now?" he asked.

Hi-Ball grunted.  "Yes."

"I'm sorry.  I'll try not to do it this time."

"Just... just don't say anything.  Alright?"

Fish nodded.  "Okay.  You want me to face the wall?"

Hi-Ball nodded.  "You're not going to do it this time?"

Fish shook his head.  "No.  I think I'm out."


A tiny turd popped out and landed with a ripe splat.

"I'm pretty sure that was the last one."

"Just turn around."

Fish did.  He put his palms up against the cleanest part of the wall and spread his legs apart slightly.  Then he waited.  And he waited longer.

"You okay back there?"

He turned around.  Hi-Ball was furiously tugging on his dick, which wobbled flaccidly in one hand.

"Don't look at me," he demanded, still tugging.

"Sorry."  Fish turned away.  "I hope I didn't ruin this for you."

Hi-Ball let go of his limp noodle and slapped his hands against his thighs in frustration.  "Well, you did.  You did.  Thanks a lot for that."

"Did... did you want me to...."

"Man, quit talking to me!  Jesus!"

"I'll still tell everyone you raped me, if you want."

Hi-Ball grabbed a bar of soap and started scrubbing, balls-first.  Fish watched him with sincerity.

"I normally do my face first," Fish smiled.  "That way it's like the soap hasn't touched my no-nos before it touches my cheeks."

Hi-Ball ignored him and went to the corner to finish his shower.  They wrapped up their routines in silence, and eventually both left the shower stalls while trying their best not to make eye contact with each other.

Later that day, when Hi-Ball was getting ready to go to bed, he looked out through the bars of his cell and surveyed East Block.  The Brotherhood grinned at him.  The Yellow Menace laughed about something he couldn't hear.  Even Mick seemed unable to look at him with respect.  The only one who could actually look at Hi-Ball without a grin was Fresh Fish.

Hi-Ball couldn't stand to see his face.  He climbed into bed, turned to face the wall, and cried as quietly as he could.

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