Randy was drunk off his ass and masturbating when Zadie came home from work earlier than he had anticipated. His pants were down by his ankles when he heard the front door being fumbled with. “Shit,” he whispered as he hastily shuffled into the bathroom, clutching his cock and his vodka. Randy tumbled into the shower, pulling the curtain closed behind him to shield himself from view.

'This wasn't supposed to happen. Zadie usually works til 6 on Fridays. What is that slut doing?' Randy thought.

Randy had arrived 15 minutes prior, already drinking from a pint of vodka. He hadn't even bothered obscuring the bottle beneath a brown bag, just stumbled around, waving the liquor bottle as he walked.

He was supposed to borrow his parents car and pick up his belongings on Thursday while Zadie worked, yet it was now Friday and here he was, yet not planning to claim the boxes piled up outside the door. Instead, he let himself into the apartment. 'That dumb cunt didn't even change the locks,' Randy internally chuckled.

Randy walked through the small studio that he and Zadie had shared for so long. The place felt wrong now, like a dead husk of the vibrant room it was when he was an active presence within it. With his vacating the premises, the place had lost all its luster, like his aura had been the lone candle lighting the small establishment.

'She thinks she can kick us out of our home? She has another think coming,' Randy thought.

He plopped down onto the bed that they had once shared as lovers. While he took a swig of vodka with his right hand, his left hand crept into his pants. 'We'll drop a creamy load right on the bitches pillow,' decided Randy.

Yet moments before he could climax, Zadie had arrived home, sending him scurrying like a roach fleeing light. Now he was hunched in a bathtub, still nursing his throbbing hard-on, trying not to make any noise that Zadie could hear. Randy was fairly sure he would be safe here, as Zadie always showered in the morning before work, not after. But she also never left work early, so he worried that he might not be able to rely on her previous schedule for his predictions.

Meanwhile, Zadie had asked if she could leave work an hour early to get ready for the party. She was embarrassed to admit to herself that she was overwhelmed with excitement for the evenings events. It was her first real public outing in over a year. And she had found that Steve fellow cute, and was wondering if this night might not swerve into date territory. She wanted to put on her best face tonight, after spending her relationship with Randy never worrying about how she looked because she knew he would never even look twice. She didn't know much about Steve, maybe she would wind up hating him, but she knew only one way to interpret the look in his eyes when he had looked at her, and she had a feeling she had been returning that subtle impression of attraction.

Zadie knew that most women would be in shock from suffering such an act of domestic abuse, but Zadie had always been a fighter. None of those women would have made the move of pounding their boyfriend back the way she had in lieu of calling the 5-O. Instead of wallowing in reliving the horrific day, she instead was focusing on the positive of that event. Because of that violent occurrence, she had discovered the caring community around her, people willing to fight for her without even knowing her and treated her as a friend without hesitation.

As Zadie disrobed her work attire to select something more flattering to wear to the party, Randy peered through the crack at the edge of the shower curtain. He rubbed his erection as she removed her underwear to stand nude before him. Feeling that he was close to cumming, Randy got on his knees and aimed his cock at the drain of the tub. He suppressed a moan as the orgasm came. He shot his load all over the tub walls, watching it drip down towards the drain he he tried to catch his breath without panting loud enough to be heard.

Randy unscrewed his vodka bottle and downed the last of it. 'Fuuuck, we need more liquor,' Randy thought. Then he remembered his stash in the back of the toilet.

As Zadie was trying on different dresses in her closet mirror, Randy quietly crept from the shower in the unlit bathroom. From the mirror Zadie was using, she could see into the bathroom, but Randy hoped that, with the lights off, she would never notice the shifting of the shadows while being so absorbed in the vain act she was currently engaged in.

Randy carefully lifted the lid to the tank and set it down on the toilet seat. He couldn't see clearly in the dark and had to feel around to find if his stash was still intact. “Bingo,” he whispered as his fingers made contact with the large liquor bottle he had hidden away.

After replacing the lid to the tank, Randy stealthily crept back into his bathtub secret headquarters. As he tucked the shower curtain shut behind him, Zadie suddenly spun around, facing the bathroom. Randy almost gasped. She was just standing there, staring at the bathroom. After the longest 5 seconds of Randy's life, she turned back to her mirror, stripped off a green dress, and went back to trying on clothes.

'You'll pay for scaring us like that,' thought Randy as he opened the new bottle of liquor and began to chug. 'Who are you dressing so slutty for, anyways? Are you going to fuck that long haired fruit who tried to fight us? We would have creamed that hippie scum if the new neighbor hadn't caught us off guard. Well, tonight will go differently. This time, those bastards will pay.'

Randy slid his hand into his right pocket to make sure his collapsible knife was still there. It was. 'This time, if those fuckers try fighting dirty again, we'll fill them full of holes,' Randy thought.

Over the last two days, Randy had been struck by multiple epiphanies about the nature of women. Randy had realized that all women were involved in a massive conspiracy. It all stemmed from their menstrual cycle. Randy didn't know why he didn't realize it sooner, but that monthly bleeding period was a sign of witchcraft, the body displaying the burden of their sins. For don't you see: All women are witches, all women are psychics! They were all mentally connected to a hive-mind that the male half of the species would never tap into or even realize the existence of. The women had all teamed up through their pussy magic to make sure they always had the advantage over the males of the planet. That was how they always seemed to know the exact right time to either give of withhold their love or praise, they could also look into the male mind, yet the men would never have the insights of how the female mind worked. The unfairness of it had almost driven Randy to ending his own life when it first hit him on Wednesday night. But on Thursday, Randy had realized some more important knowledge: the reason men drink alcohol is to keep their minds hidden from women. It didn't work 100% of the time, but it kept things foggy enough where they could never get a good read on them, like static over a radio. That was why Zadie was leaving him, because she was sick of not being able to read his mind to properly brainwash him.

Randy planned to fight these newly discovered pussy powers with his own personal power source: booze. His mind was as protected as it could ever be. Zadie hadn't yet detected via her psychic powers the thoughts of another being right in her bathroom. Dumb twat!

Once he had killed this nasty skank, he would go public to the men of the world his discoveries. He would be hailed as the Charles Darwin of the modern era, liberating mankind from the tyranny of cuntdom.

“Sir Randy, how did you make your Nobel Peace Prize winning discovery about Pussy Magic?” the reporters will ask.

“Well, since you ask, some skanky spic-nigger dumped me, I got drunk, and realized that the liquor was her weakness,” he will tell them.

The audience will cheer. Every man will turn to the man beside them, lock eyes, and shake hands. The gender will be united behind a common cause. Men will be proud to be men, damn it! Many men who hear Randy speak will break into tears, happy ones, even holy ones, some men even crying biblical blood at his rousing rhetoric.

All men will start drinking 24/7. Women will lose their hold over the gender and now give blowjobs whenever they are requested, not just when the woman is in the mood. No more boggarting the blowjobs! Never a-fucking-gain!

Randy hated that women, because they could make life, were closer to God than the male species. The pussy was like a portal to Eden, the garden from where all life springs. You stick your dick in and, abra cadabra, like a rabbit from a hat, a living human being claws its way through that gore-strewn portal into this plane of existence, soul tethered to a fresh meat-cage.

The vagina was like a walkie-talkie to Paradise, the way Randy saw it. So his plan was to use Zadie's cooter to make a collect call direct to God. Randy was going to give God a piece of his mind. Randy had a laundry list of grievances to air against his unelected leader, and planned to hold Him accountable for giving women such dominance over his gender. If Randy had his way, God would yield to his iron will and reverse the gender roles in the world, granting the psychic and life-bringing powers to the men instead of the broads.

'We are the harbinger of change,' thought Randy as he pissed into the bathtub drain, still watching Zadie repeat the pattern of model then disrobe before her mirror. 'We will become the God of Men and lead our people to reclaim dominance over the Fascist Furburgers!'