A word of warning: This document is not meant for those with weak minds. Indeed, those with weak minds will find their intelligence insulted.

Browsing over the infinite abyss of putrid crap that Fiction press houses, I came across an unsavory document that was, simply put, pathetic on all standards. While it eventually lead me to discover fellow detractors- nay, kindred spirits, the greasy imprint it left on my conscious could not be washed away. Therefore I've decided to solve the problem to only way I knew how: to illegally rip on it on a website that strictly forbids such copyright infringement.

While the story only lacks two essential traits (talent and quality) I find satirizing this work to be all in good fun and hope those who have come across the same story enjoy it.

Also, I'd like to apologize to a friend of mine and humbly ask her forgiveness in regards to me stealing her "thing." She cleverly chose a much more subtle and legal approach to mocking this particular work, one that I greatly enjoy, but I simply can't let her have all the fun.

Without further adieu, the story to shake the ages:

Chapter 1

Andrea Made an Oopsie!

Andrea Traincart was a girl with a problem. This problem didn't relate to her frequent bouts of ignorance, compulsiveness filling up the gap where common sense ought to be, or her utter lack of any admirable qualities on a whole. Actually, it sorta related to all of those, but we'll get to that later. The problem was with the note she had just given the girl to pass on to her boyfriend. The girl's name was Katlyn. Katlyn was her friend. Andrea enjoyed Katlyn. Andrea enjoyed Katlyn because Katlyn was Andrea's friend. Andrea frequently thinks in "See Spot Run" format, by the way.

Andrea had trouble writing that note. She was note proud of her deadly sins, and was deeply concerned how her boyfriend would handle it. She had poured all of her thoughts and grievances over the past few weeks into that letter. Incidently, it was very short.

On the totally opposite side of the city with absolutely no transition whatsoever to bring us there, Katlyn gave Andrea's boyfriend, Donny, the note.

Donny was a caring, sensitive young man who suffered the grave misfortunate of being romantically involved with the twenty-first century's equivalent of Mary Magdalene. On crack. To say that Andrea was a little slow on the rebound was something of an understatement. A more accurate metaphor would be to say Andrea was a wet match in the middle of the ocean. If the average human mind is a marvel of biological and electronic engineering, then Andrea's brain would be the tinker toy of an infant. She would be the construction of a cheap sweat shop or enforced child labor camp. She would be the Mayonnaise in the back of the fridge that probably should have been removed when it mysteriously appeared upon the appliance's purchase. It's not readily apparent as to what Donny saw in Andrea, but if he set his standards any lower the numerical value of the potential dates could only be described as an imaginary number.

"This is a note from Andrea." Said Katlyn.

"Cool! It's not like we don't have cellphones or anything. Or aren't psychics."

Oh, by the way, Andrea and her friends were all enrolled in the most prestigious psychic academy in Italy, Constellation'o's. Don't question it.

Donny had a good idea what the note was about, but he wasn't positive. Most men don't have sneaking suspicions of their girlfriends being raped by mobsters, but Donny was a bright young lad. Anyway, I digress and we're getting way ahead of ourselves, the note in question said:


I've got something very important to tell you. Come to the restaurant at noon. Y'know, that one downtown that just opened up. I'm not much for names. Ask for the table with a buncha roses. No need to actually ask for me by name, that'll just complicate things.

While Donny left his college of psychics to meet Andrea, Franklin Hamper was studying for his next test. The surname "Hamper" brought fear into the hearts of Italians everywhere, for reasons that will be neither explained nor elaborated on in this piece. Franklin was the heir to the mob, although his actual knowledge of mafia affairs were limited to the ten minutes of The Godfather Three he watched once on the Spanish channel. When Franklin wasn't involved in mobly affairs he was spending his time not actually studying but thinking about Andrea.

As luck would have it Franklin had stumbled upon Andrea, the subject of frequent sexual harassment at his very capable hands, drunk at a club. Andrea had previously tasked the bartender to give her a ride home, but Franklin convinced her otherwise. Why the bartender saw no problem with allowing an infamous crime lord to walk away with a drunk chick will not be discussed in this piece. Franklin was currently daydreaming of the after effects of this night:

"Franklin!" he heard her cry. "Oh Franklin! Make totally non-descriptive love to me!"

"Andrea!" he remembered himself. "You're so fine! I learned everything I know about sexual banter from dollar store pornos!"

"Franklin! Touch me!"

"That'll move the process along a lot quicker, yeah."

"Ben! Hold me!"

"My name is Franklin. How am I doing baby? One explanation point for 'bad' and two for 'good.'"

"Oh Franklin!!"


Franklin was awoken from his inebriated sexual fantasy by one of Andrea's friends. Mob bosses were very easy to locate and on first-name basis with all random pedestrians. He snatched the offered note to her and read it. For details of said note, read above to save me the trouble of copy and pasting it. It's the one she gave to Donny. Yeah, that's the one.

Franklin got into his fancy European car (which is even more European in Europe, if you didn't know) and sped off at the speed of light. Psychic superpowers. Don't question it.

Franklin and Donny met at the restaurant in question, arriving at the table with the flowers and whatever. Being competitors for Andrea's frequently intoxicated body, Donny and Franklin were at odds. Donny never actually made an attempt to stop Franklin's continual sexual advances, but was always there to give his long lived lover a supporting pat on the shoulder when it was all over. Franklin, on the other hand, hated Donny because Frankin hated to share women that were not his. He was a crime boss. He's just badass like that.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came for Andrea! What are you doing here?"

"I came for Andrea, too!"

Five minutes of awkward silence followed. Both were sensible young men and did not choose to resort to petty name calling for something as simple as rape.

Andrea came and sat down, and all ordered various Italian dishes because the group lived in Italy. In a mansion. Near a mob boss. While attending a psychic college. God, I need a drink.

"Soo . . . Donny . . . IgotreallydrunkandmackedFranklin'smuffinsohardthathesquealedlikeacheapswine!"

"That's okay, Andrea, I forgive you." Said Donny. He was still a little upset at his girlfriend for being raped, but understood it was really nothing to worry himself over.

"There's something else . . ." Andrea started. She was very nervous. She was about to reveal the totally obvious and premature plot twist. "I'm pregnant! And I don't know whose the baby's daddy!"

It all hit Donny and Franklin like a ton of bricks. If the baby was Franklin's all his dreams would come true. Because all young men dream of a night of drunken grouping leading up to an unwanted pregnancy. He would be filthy rich, and have his number one ho at his side. There was something about a baby in there too. Franklin also wanted something else from Andrea, and it wasn't the school Constellation'o's, but something for himself (it's really s-e-x but SHHHH! Don't tell anyone!). Nothing could stop him! Not even competent legal systems with easier accessible knowledge of his whereabouts and crimes. Donny, on the other hand, would stand by Andrea no matter what. It was a long, crazy road, afterall, and he might as well see it through.

"Can't we do a blood test or something?" Franklin asked.

"No, it's too early." Andrea insisted.

"What about our highly focused psychic superpowers honed by years of college education. Certainly they could . . ."

"No! They can't! Shut up!"

"Don't worry," Donny said. "I'll be there for you."



Franklin was jealous that his latest rape victim wasn't paying him enough attention. He scooted over to her and put his arms around her.

"There, there, baby, it'll be alright."

"I wanna go home." said Andrea.

"We should go to my mansion." said Donny. "Since nobody owns a house or apartment in Italy."

"No, you should come with me." Franklin insisted.

"I don't know who to go with . . ." Andrea sobbed.

"How about your understanding boyfriend who doesn't intentionally put you through misery."

" . . . Okay . . . I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, by the way. One of you should probably come."

"I'll come" Donny insisted.

"No, I will." Franklin growled.

Quiz time! Do you think Andrea will: A) Politely but curtly deny Franklin's involvement with her future child, B) Develop common sense and report Franklin's sorry ass to the authorities, or C) Invite her daily tormentor to accompany her and her loving boyfriend?

"You can both come! What harm could it do?"

Andrea knew of course that Franklin had an obsessive craving for anything involving her bikini zone, but could see no fault in allowing him to come with Donny and herself. Perhaps it was due to some bizarre idea that a downward spiral of agony and self-loathing was romantic, or Andrea's base and entirely questionable intellect, or possibly some twisted fantasy of the authoress, who Andrea is clearly based on, who secretly desires the attention of an insidious mob lord. Whatever the case, it's easiest just to say "Andrea is stupid" and move on with the plot.

Andrea felt horrible. She knew she should have left long before that twelfth jug of moonshine, but she just couldn't help herself.

"Did Franklin get you drunk?" Donny asked.

"No. I remember the barkeeper was trying to get me to go home with him, so I figured I'd keep drinking. It made sense at the time. Then Franklin came along and we did that thing he always wants from me. I didn't tell you because I thought you'd get mad."

"My range of moods is pretty much limited to 'lethargic,' actually. Are you keeping the baby?"


"What if it's not mine?"

"I haven't thought that yet."

"Wha- what? I . . . I mea- Wow. It's like a fifty percent chance that it's Franklin's, you stupid shit. And you haven't thought to consider it? Jesus Christ, was it the paint chips or the power lines that made you so frickin idiotic?"

author note: For your convenience the previous quotation has been reformatted into AndreaVision, who pretty much sees the world in rainbows and unicorn fairy princesses.

"I love you, Andrea. You make me the happiest psychic in Italy with your unsatiable lust for all men who aren't me!"

"I love you too, sweetums!"

Andrea and Donny lived in a triad of mansions with multiple friends of there's. First there was Katlyn and Jim, who were planning on moving out after their recent marriage. Being the only two people in this piece who actually know how sexual activities function, Katlyn and Jim frequently made noises that disturbed the other house guests. The other house guests were Caroline and Jonathan. About what smart people argued about, which infallibly left Andrea out of the loop."

"How did it go?" Katlyn asked.

"Surprisingly well." said Andrea.

"How did it go?" Caroline repeated. Probably for emphasis. Something only smart people could understand.

"Surprisingly well." repeated Andrea. She enjoyed difficult mind games like these. "What are you two people arguing about?"

"Invisibility." said Jonathan. Feel free to bash your heads against the wall to release the pent up aggravation at the poorly implement fantasy elements.

"I don't know how you can get along so well with my brother who shows no aggravation at my rape whatsoever."

"We get along just fine, thanks." said Caroline.

"Turn that music down." Andrea demanded of Katlyn. Katlyn was listening to the authoress' favorite song(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), Dip It Low, where she learned all of her sexual knowhow.

"You can't tell me what to do just because you got knocked up!" Katlyn retaliated.

A pizza was ordered and hogged by Andrea. Katlyn explained to her befuddled and wide-eyed friends that it was hormones, and she knew this because of her nurse mother. The Constellation'o's school district decided to stop teaching Health and Sex Ed to students after the recent referendum. It was agreed that if boys and girls didn't learn about their respective body parts they'd have no idea how to make pre-marital whoopie. The success rate spoke for itself: A trifling 3/4 teenage population impregnated.

Andrea ate her food. Then she went to sleep. She had no idea that spending more time with her rapist would lead to a living hell.

Tune in tomorrow for the highly unneeded continuation of this crap. Actually, don't bother tuning it at all. This was just a one shot to get it all my hate for this piece out of my system. Once again, I apologize to my friend for stealing her bit, but I really, really needed this. Not my best work, but it relieves the stress nicely