the man trap

The bait is released, a beautiful girl of only nineteen. The unsuspecting beast is lured to her lair with whispered promises. That is when the trap is sprung. The entire pack moves in for the kill, submitting the victim to hours of physical torture. We've done it before; Tuesday night was not the first time. It will not be the last.

Chris was victim number one that night. He wanted to learn to dance, and Julie had seemed a promising teacher. What she hadn't explained was that she would force him to move his body in extreme fashions to absurd music with her roommates watching. But oh! We did more than just watch. We heckled. By the end of the night he was sweating and utterly disheveled. All the while he is of course aware of what he is undergoing. Or is he? Does he know that every look, every step is being analyzed for future discussions, so that when Julie asks us at the end of the night what we think of him, our answers will be full of over-killed observations. He was innocent, and we destroyed him.

Unfortunately for the male pack, our hunger was not appeased. As Steve walked below our window, carring home a supply of cupcakes, Emily's impromtu soliciting secured us dessert to top off our earlier feast. Dance for us! Dance he did. He spun Emily with the naive belief that he was demonstrating his lack of dancing talent to the group. What he was actually doing was submitting to our psychoanalysis. Did he look at her the way I think he did? We examined him over and over, telling him what to do and when in order to observe his alacrity. We, the sick-minded females of laboratory 99, decided to play Pavlov. Drool puppy! Drool for Em! And when you go, leave the cupcakes here.

We have pictures to document the evening, the proof satan will use against us in the judgment day.