EZ was lugging newly bought textbooks back to 128 Knox when he saw a tall lean guy in lots of tweed standing by his door. "Are you EZ Bell?" the stranger asked.
"Who wants to know?"
"I'm guessing you were meant to be my roommate over in 128 Cox."
"Oh! You!" EZ set the books down and shook hands. "I'm glad to finally meet you."
"I'm Chuck Schmuck," said Boss Tweed. "I'm campus president of SMUG, the Sensitive Male Unity Group. Interested in joining?"
"First things first." EZ looked around, pleased to see no female passerby who might guess he was inhabiting forbidden territory. "What are the odds of my getting transferred to Cox Hall?"
"That's up to you. As the Rhuud scholar, technically, you don't have to move at all. I must confess I envy your opportunity to study the plight of today's woman up close."
As Chuck spoke, the door swung slowly inward, and EZ saw Terry standing there in bikini panties, a T-shirt, and a smile. Somehow, "plight" was not a word she inspired.
Still, EZ recalled what he'd heard in the bathroom. "I don't know if the girls are going to go for my staying here."
Chuck looked puzzled. "The term is women, EZ, not girls. Please watch stuff like that. Listen, if you're picking up any bad vibes, you're free to stop over, but you can't make any switch without first attending your floor meeting tonight. But I would love for you to come see me, and join SMUG, and meet my equal partner, Connie Stahl. You would relate to Connie, EZ. She and I have had the most beautiful Platonic relationship for four years now."
"You don't say." EZ was finding it difficult to think in Platonic terms, as Terry was really getting into her little dance, wiggling her hips and ass while wildly shimmying her humongous rack. He noted that her T-shirt said RAPISTS in large letters.
"Oh, it's the greatest," Chuck assured him. "Gentle, spiritual, intellectual, unhampered by all kinds of petty, silly, grubby, patriarchal desires."
"Ah, sure, swell, Chuck. Listen ... I've noticed T-shirts, pennants, all kinds of stuff ... all saying RAPISTS. What's up with that?"
"School heritage," said Chuck. "That's what female students here call themselves. When this school first started, the students made a social statement by wearing really short butch-style haircuts. They called themselves Rapists, in honor of Alexander Pope's poem The Rape of the Lock. Kind of a nice pithy gutsy defiance to it, don't you think? I might have thought it ill-advised myself, but of course, since I'm only a man, my opinion counts for nothing. SMUG has been trying to come up with a name for us guys; we're torn between Counselors and Nurturers. You know, something very far from the aggression and phallocentrism of Rapists."
EZ nodded absently, watching as Terry stripped naked and danced nastily with her Louisville Slugger bat, sensuously sawing its hand against her pussy while shoving its large blunt tip up through her cleavage, where her tongue snaked out and lovingly licked it. EZ had to admit that his mind was positively on fire with much of the "aggression" and "phallocentrism" about which Chuck Schmuck was babbling on about.
"Anyhow," said Chuck, "we can always use your input. Good luck, and see you around!" He left.
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Tue Dec 30 09:46:17 2003