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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: Write in the HUMOR genre (04/12/07)

TITLE: Testosterone Does Not Rule Here
By Val Clark
04/16/07


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ĎItís not negotiable,í I said. ĎThe dog will be a female.í

After all, one husband and two just-turned-teenage sons is enough testosterone to fill a football stadium. It was time to address the gender balance and, since we couldnít have any more kids, this was the only way.

Honestly, I had tried to help my boys (henceforth a term that will also include my dearly beloved husband) develop a more sensitive side. Painting, dance, theatre, art galleries, chick flicks, Cliff Richard even. Oh, and ironing, cleaning and cooking. But some things are inevitable, like dead socks under the bed.


It wasnít until I fell ill that I realized what an abysmally poor job I had done teaching my boys to care for the sick and infirm. AKA me.

The realization came as I lay in bed. After twelve hours of no food, no water and no company while the TV blared action movies from the lounge and the computer annihilated one of my boys yet again I suddenly understood. It smacked into me like a one of those huge balls that knock down walls on demolition sites. It left me breathless with shock. I had not only failed to teach them to care about the sick and the infirm, I had failed as a mother.

Somewhere, despite my carefully laid plans, nature had won out over nurture. My strategies to raise Sensitive New Age Guys had gone terribly astray. My SNAGs were in reality CHOPs: Chauvinistic, Hopelessly Obdurate Pigs.

I buried my head in my pillow and wept.

OK, I could have understood the enforced starvation, at a pinch, a very small pinch mind, if we lived in a castle and the kitchen had been located maybe twenty floors down and at the opposite end of the house. But it wasnít. It was next to the master bedroom.

I would have got more attention on the moon! The challenge of feeding me there might at least have got their testosterone going. Plus the destination was a lot more exciting than the master bedroom.

Master bedroom. How different this story would be if the master of the house were sick. But letís not go there. For once, this is about me!

I couldnít call upon the only other female in the house for help. My ever faithful dog (albeit the correct gender and a womanís best friend) was, after all, a puppy and not yet up to mastering the finer points of making cold coffee, mishandling the ratio of breakfast cereal to milk or burning toast. Iím sure, given time, she would have.

I canít say I suffered in silence.

But however hard I tried to bring the family into the bedroom, with or without dry bread and water, I failed. Failed abysmally. Failed miserably. I was destined to shrivel up and die a lonely death of dehydration and hunger.

Alone I pondered the error of my ways. Alone I prayed to the One who created male and female. Didnít he know the inner working of the hearts of my boys? Hadnít he promised wisdom in seemingly impossible situation? Was I asking for too much?

Strains from Mission Impossible filled my brain.

That was until I hit upon a master plan of epic dastardlyness. (Yes, that is a made up word but it fits so wonderfully. Dastardly: treacherously cowardly.)

In retrospect I am hard pressed proving this solution was an answer to prayer but I knew on that day if I had the strength to implement such a plan it would force them to endure my presence.

While they were at school and at work I dragged my sickly self from the bed and implemented a plan that I knew would cut at the very heart of their happiness. I had struck a blow that I was sure would bring them running, not kicking and screaming but willingly, into my presence bearing nutritional gifts.

They had not been home five minutes before the cries of outrage and distress filled the house. A veritable rampage ensued. Doors slammed. Feet clattered. Accusations rang out. They were on the verge of calling the police when they burst into my bedroom full of the dreadful news.

My faithful dog barked and wagged her tail.

The windows were open, ready to suck out all traces of testosterone.

They stood, crowded at the door, their mouths hanging open, their panicked voices silenced.

I had taken possession of the TV, the VCR and the remote.


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This article has been read 1115 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Joanne Malley04/19/07
Ahhhh...the poor lone female! Bless her heart and her sanity! Thanks for the laugh and the fun. Blessings, Jo
Shannon Jackson04/19/07
Your ending is victorious! Great job!
Teri Wilson04/19/07
Oh my gosh, can I relate! Why do you think my two dogs are both girls? Loved it.
Sara Harricharan 04/19/07
I absolutely LOVE the end! Hilarious! I felt so sorry for her there all by herself and with no one even bringing some canned chicken soup, at least! You did a great job with the character, keeping her real and engaging. ^_^
Anita Neuman04/19/07
This was such a cute entry. Good thing no man would think to employ such a tactic. One thing to watch: repeating the same phrase. You used "failed abysmally" twice. But I really enjoyed the story. Great job!
Anita Neuman04/19/07
Oops - okay, you didn't use the EXACT same phrase twice. But "abysmally" stuck out after the first time. Sorry.
terri tiffany04/19/07
On of my favorite so far - Great ending - loved the sentence structure and fast pace - great job!
Julie Arduini04/20/07
You definitely painted a great picture of a mom surrounded by testosterone. The end was just great.
Mo 04/20/07
Ah, the remote control trick! Well done.
Pam Carlson-Hetland04/20/07
A truly wonderful story of a valiant and resourceful mother. You go, Girl!!! Loved the story, loved how it moved swiftly and kept interest, and the ending was superb! Good job.
Christine Miles04/21/07
LOL! I must be sick too cos I was reading this and thinking 'What's she got? What's she got?' and OF COURSE it's the TV, etc etc. I love this. I am laughing! Go, you!
Brenda Welc04/21/07
Great story! Why do you think all 4 of my cats are female? Girls Rule!
James Wood04/21/07
Well told. Your overexaggerated tone peppers the comedy very well. However, the phrase "like a one of those huge balls that knock down walls on demolition sites." slips up the reader like "one of those yellow slippery things left from a used bananna.", if you understand my meaning. Still, the fact that I am laughing as I am typing that is a good sign.
Jacquelyn Horne04/22/07
Your an attention getter. Both in writing and in real life.
Cheri Hardaway 04/22/07
I love the title! I have two boys and two girls, and you have captured the male psyche perfectly. Your description of the action flicks and the video games reminded me of those days gone by when my boys were still living at home. Funny. Blessings, Cheri
Valora Otis04/22/07
I know all about the testosterone thing, I am the lone woman in a house of men too. With one exception....my dog. You were triumphant in the end! Your motherly instincts won over your children. Bravo! The sign of a truly inspired mum. Loved it!
Joanne Sher 04/22/07
Love this - your tone was perfect and your humor was right on target. Loved the ending, of course.
Verna Cole Mitchell 04/22/07
Absolutely delightful! My favorite line was, "I can't say I suffered in silence." I love understatement. This is a favorite for me.
Rita Garcia04/24/07
"I had taken possession of the TV, the VCR and the remote." ROFL! Great Story!
Marc Smith04/25/07
Very nicely done. Although living in a house with all women I wouldn't know about this type of struggle. =)
Shari Armstrong 04/25/07
LOL -love it. Hit them where it hurts :)
Helen Paynter04/25/07
Very funny. I read this earlier in the week, and an't understand why I didn't comment then. Great job.
T. F. Chezum04/25/07
LOL - Very funny ... still laughing.
David Butler 06/10/07
ROFL. Sending a link to my faithful missus. I loved the CHOPS especially.
From your local SKAMP. (Sensitive Kingdom Age Male Person.)