Gem's Parody: TheNextBruisedEgo.com

This piece was selected as the winner of a TheNextBigWriter Parody Competition by the site's members. We do have a sense of humor :).

Gem's Parody: TheNextBruisedEgo.com

Okay, last evening I reviewed two whole chapters from top-ranked novels, five erotic-political poems by barry n davidson (he's not fooling anyone with that pen name) plus so much shaggin' Gorillagram that I'm starting to see Margaret Thatcher's silhouette in my wine glass. I can't wait to scroll down to "New Reviews of my Work."

Let's see how many I got today...there should be a gazillion new reviews.

What? What's that?

"No new reviews listed."

How can that be?

Is that fair? I have read other people's work, and they don't have the decency to read my...what's that? Oh, a new review. Never mind. It's from...oh, who really cares who it's from? Let's see what they gave me.

A two? They gave me a two? What idiot rated my work a two? On this site I give three's for anything a step above greeting-card smarm. I wouldn't even wish a two on Austin MacDonnell. Must be someone new to the site who doesn't realize we writers are as fragile as pizelles poised on Pavarotti's tongue, as shaky as a top-ten standing in the short story rankings.

Now what do I do? Should I be magnanimous? Should I say, "I wasn't feeling quite slummy enough today, and your two made all the difference." Hmmm. Let's see. I could kick the dog. Won't work. Our dog has gone on to meet his eternal reward. I could kick my neighbor's dog. But then my neighbor has a double barrel shotgun--I'm in the heart of Bush country after all, my friends. I could send a venomous email to my former Jewish boyfriend who wandered into my miserable life four years ago. But if if weren't for him, I'd have nothing to write about really and never would have gone on a creative writing tear in midlife.

How about this? "Dear Scribbler. Thanks so much for the two. It was a gift. Truly. One more point than I expected really. My talent is but a speck of sleepy dirt compared to the mound of earth you possess between the ears."

How about, "Scribbler, you sure know how to put a girl in her place. My talent is but a nib while yours is the whole ballpoint. My talent is but a single longish butt hair where yours is a big Amish farm fanny."

No, I have to be diplomatic, or I'll get "invited" to join TheNextBigLoser.com. "Dear Scribbler. I am humbled by your two. A two from you is like Christmas in July, really. No, more like getting a mammogram. No middle-aged woman looks forward to having her nipples squished and her breasts compressed between cold metal plates, but we all need to have it done.

Plus, the next time an agent sends me a rejection slip that says, ‘I just can't get excited about your work' my blood pressure won't raise a point because of you. lol.

Oh, and BTW, if you're in the mood to dispense two's, I think dee's fabulous ratings are inflated. Her book isn't fiction. Not really. All those stalkers who pretend to be famous people? I see right through that little plot device. That's what dee does since she retired from civil service--she goes around stalking people and writing bad poetry. Nothing fictional about it. Go read her stuff. Give her a two for a change."

That's what I'll say.

Okay, forget the bad review. Let's check out the rankings. At least they love me in the rankings. Number six? My story is number six? My story that everyone raved about has been booted to number six? I'm chopped liver.

It's a conspiracy, I tell you. A conspiracy. No one wants my story to be in the top three when June 7 rolls around. That much is obvious. I think I will write an elegiac arrivederci and post it in the forum. Then they'll be sorry. They'll be sorry they have only read forty-three pieces about my stupid old farkakte boyfriend once I'm off the site, baby.

But where would I post it? There's nowhere to post personal stuff in the forum any longer. I know. I'll send it to myself as writer feedback: "Hey, gem, I just want you to know that I am going to remove all my posts from this site and say 'tata' to your sorry little tushie." Then I would reply to myself, "Don't let the door hit you on the way out...Gale. Sayonara, sister."

Okay, before I sign off for the night, I'll check my account one more time.

What's this?

A review? It's a review! A review...from...IveyBanks! I scored a review from IveyBanks! That means it's going to be 700 words long, and she'll have dutifully caught every mechanical nit in my 56,900 word piece.

Okay, let's see what she gave me.

Ladies and gentleman, it's...a...five. A five! I got a five. I got a five. I got a five from IveyBanks.

God, I love this site.

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