ec wishes: dear evil genie, can you get me laid? it has binawhile

Evil Genie replies: A darkly handsome man wearing a well-cut black suit picks you up in one swift motion and lays you out on a velvety cushion. He forces your hands to your sides and holds you there. You let him control you, doing what he pleases with your flesh, moving you to his whims and desires. You silently and thoughtlessly obey his every push and pull. He secures you, and you can’t move a muscle. Your entire body is rigid in anticipation of what is to come.

“Don’t move,” he says, and laughs a little.

As you lie still, he lavishes you with attention, tending to every inch of your body, making sure you’re immaculate and ready. When he’s finished you look perfect and pristine, but soon you’ll be low down and dirty. As he looks down at you, his creation, people start to file in from the side door. Kinky. Ex-lovers are there, and men you wanted but never told. Also, friends, co-workers, high school acquaintances, your third grade teacher, your neighbor Jim, the old lady that taught you piano, your Aunt Linda, your Mom, your entire extended family…

You’ve been laid… to rest. You’re dead and at a funeral home! I know, TWIST, right? TWIST. But, if it helps, you totally died in a brutal sex-related accident — strangled after getting caught in the ropes of an adult swing. Get it, girl! Also, that handsome funeral director — a degenerate necrophiliac as every single funeral director is and don’t let anyone tell you different (this includes the Dan Akroyd from My Girl) — will be back for you, so you have that to look forward to.