LOVE ME, LOVE MY HOMUNCULUS

To the lady it may concern:

If you are reading this, you have most likely locked yourself in my bathroom. I apologize for not saying the following to you personally, but this sort of situation happens often enough that my neighbours have complained about the noise of me talking through the door. Hopefully, this pamphlet will answer the questions you likely have and encourage you to come out of the bathroom.

First, I told you plain and simple: “I have a homunculus.” You didn’t have to stick around after that. I’m kind of surprised you did. What the hell went through your mind? Why the hell would I say that if I didn’t really have one? It’s certainly not funny. It’s a fucking weird thing to joke about.

Second, when I invited you up to my apartment, I reminded you about the homunculus. Again. “Remember, I have a homunculus.” Didn’t any alarm bells flash then? How did it slip past your guard twice? What is wrong with you? Why did you not ask about this homunculus I kept talking about? There must have been dozens of opportunities over the course of the evening! Did you think I was talking about my penis? That’s even weirder than just talking about my homunculus!

Third, I guarantee that he will not bite you. He simply gnashes his teeth upon meeting a stranger – like a chimp will bare their teeth to intimidate a potential threat. He is harmless, and had you not locked yourself in the bathroom you are currently in, he would have smelt you and grown accustomed to you by now.

Fourth, it was a gift from a friend. A friend I wouldn’t even consider a friend anymore.

Fifth, when I say “harmless,” I mean he will not intentionally harm you – I do not mean he is hygienic or healthy. Obviously, he has escaped from his jar, and he often eats things off the floor when I am out of my apartment. While I might ask you to not be afraid of him, I would not ask you to not be wary of him and minimize your contact with him.

Sixth, no, he does not have a name, nor will he ever. I dislike him enough even without an identity.

Seventh, I do not know where the friend got him from. It was a “hey, can you hang on to this while I’m gone” kind of thing. I don’t know when he’s coming back, and it would be rude to simply get rid of it.

Eighth, I do not know if there are lady homunculi, or where I would get one. I have not done any research into their existence or history. I only know the basics of homunculus care.

Ninth, I assure you, I am not offput by your panicky episode, and am still willing to sleep with you tonight.

Tenth, the homunculus is in no way involved in my sex routine. I am offended you might even think that, and am upset by the series of insinuations you have wordlessly vollied at me since I first mentioned the homunculus. It bodes poorly for any future, post-sex relationship if you are going to think such thoughts and lessen your opinion of me for them without even giving me a chance to defend myself. I assure you that poor communication, and not the homunculus, has ended the majority of my relationships.

Eleventh, if nothing else, you can leave through the bathroom window without having to see the homunculus again. You may contact me via telephone, email or Facebook and we can arrange to meet again in a different location.

(Hopefully) Yours,

Murray

 

To the lady it may concern:

If you are reading this, you have most likely locked yourself in my bathroom.  I apologize for not saying the following to you personally, but this sort of situation happens often enough that my neighbours have complained about the noise of me talking through the door.  Hopefully, this pamphlet will answer the questions you likely have and encourage you to come out of the bathroom.

First, I told you plain and simple: “I have a homunculus.”  You didn’t have to stick around after that.  I’m kind of surprised you did.  What the hell went through your mind?  Why the hell would I say that if I didn’t really have one?  It’s certainly not funny.  It’s a fucking weird thing to joke about.

Second, when I invited you up to my apartment, I reminded you about the homunculus.  Again.  “Remember, I have a homunculus.”  Didn’t any alarm bells flash then?  How did it slip past your guard twice?  What is wrong with you?  Why did you not ask about this homunculus I kept talking about?  There must have been dozens of opportunities over the course of the evening!  Did you think I was talking about my penis?  That’s even weirder than just talking about my homunculus!

Third, I guarantee that he will not bite you.  He simply gnashes his teeth upon meeting a stranger – like a chimp will bare their teeth to intimidate a potential threat.  He is harmless, and had you not locked yourself in the bathroom you are currently in, he would have smelt you and grown accustomed to you by now.

Fourth, it was a gift from a friend.  A friend I wouldn’t even consider a friend anymore.

Fifth, when I say “harmless,” I mean he will not intentionally harm you – I do not mean he is hygienic or healthy.  Obviously, he has escaped from his jar, and he often eats things off the floor when I am out of my apartment.  While I might ask you to not be afraid of him, I would not ask you to not be wary of him and minimize your contact with him.

Sixth, no, he does not have a name.  I dislike him enough even without an identity.

Seventh, I do not know where the friend got him from.  It was a “hey, can you hang on to this while I’m gone” kind of thing.  I don’t know when he’s coming back, and it would be rude to simply get rid of it.

Eighth, I do not know if there are lady homunculi, or where I would get one.  I have not done any research into their existence or history.  I only know the basics of homunculus care.

Ninth, I assure you, I am not offput by your panicky episode, and am still willing to sleep with you tonight.

Tenth, the homunculus is in no way involved in my sex routine.  I am offended you might even think that, and am upset by the series of insinuations you have wordlessly vollied at me since I first mentioned the homunculus.  It bodes poorly for any future, post-sex relationship if you are going to think such thoughts and lessen your opinion of me for them without even giving me a chance to defend myself.  I assure you that poor communication, and not the homunculus, has ended the majority of my relationships.

Eleventh, if nothing else, you can leave through the bathroom window without having to see the homunculus again.  You may contact me via telephone, email or Facebook and we can arrange to meet again in a different location.

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