The Before Time…A TRP “Origin” Story
So this started out as a reply I did on AskTRP. A couple of guys asked me to finish it, and after a while, I felt like I owed it to the story. If it’s not your thing, there are other threads.
Gather around the fire, children, and Uncle Vasya will tell you a story from the "Before Time", because Uncle Vasya's long memory goes back that far. He will tell you of the Great War between the Pretties and the Fuglies.
. . . . . . . . . .
At an early age, the Fuglies noticed that the boys liked the Pretties, and did not like the Fuglies at all, unless they boys were Very Drunk, and there were no Pretties nearby, and the boys had, perhaps been on NoFap, or had not yet been instructed by the Fathers in the Mystical Art of Talking To Girls.
The Pretties, who liked the attention from the boys, knew this also, and they tormented the Fuglies, "You are fat and gross, the Boys will never like you and you will never have a warm, safe home with a happy man and little kinders! You will only have cat-children and you will die alone in the middle of your cat colonies! Ha, ha, ha, ha-ha!"
And the Fuglies said, "Oh, yeah?" mostly because, deep down in their fugly little hearts they knew it was true. "Yeah!" said the Pretties, then then went back to feeding grapes to the boys and telling them, "Here, feel my booty. I've been working on my glutes and staying away from processed foods." And the Pretties thrust their booties at the boys.
And the boys and the Pretties were happy. The Fuglies were not. They went home and cried fugly little tears in their fugly little pillows. When their fathers tried to comfort them the Fuglies screamed, "GET OUT OF HERE, YOU CIS-GENDERED PATRIARCHAL SCUM!!" The fathers didn't know what that meant, but they knew they'd been given an out and so they looked at their wives and said, "This is one for you to handle", and then cracked open a cold one and went back to watching the game between the New England Lovers of Country, and the Los Angeles Rutting Male Sheep.
So later that week, one of the Fuglies, who looked a lot like Hillary Clinton, called a meeting of all the other Fuglies, with no Pretties invited. She told the Fuglies that she had asked the Wisest Creature in the Forest, Grandmother Toad--who looked a lot like Andrea Dworkin; the Fuglies all shuddered at that because even they thought Andrew Dworkin was a total hag--what to do. "Grandmother Toad told me that, deep in the forest, there lives an evil witch who can help us. So we should go and see her!"
And so the Fuglies did. The walked and they walked deep into the forest, until they were all hungry, and sweaty and complaining, and their feet hurt even though they were wearing Comfortable Shoes, and they were out of breath, even though it was only about 300 yards. They came up on a split level ranch. There was a woman living there who looked a lot like Betty Friedan. "Are you the witch of the forest?" asked the Fuglies. "Yes," said the Betty Friedan-looking woman, "Come in and have some cake." The Fuglies came in and saw there were two other women there. One who looked like Grandmother Toad and another who looked like Gloria Steinem. There were some noises coming from the kitchen.
The Fuglies poured out their hearts to the Betty Friedan-looking woman and the others, "The boys don't like us! The boys only like the Pretties, unless they are really drunk, on NoFap and there are no Pretties near! Help us!"
"There, there," Betty Friedan-looking woman said, as she offered them cake and tea.
"Help us!", said the Fuglies, "Make the boys like us!" The Betty Friedan-looking woman looked a bit sad and said, "It is in the Boys' nature to like the Pretties. It is part of their Source Code, from the time that the All-Father first breathed life into them. Not even my Deep Magic can change that!"
Grandmother Toad--who the Fuglies realized actually was Andrea Dworkin--looked disgusted. The Gloria Steinem-looking woman looked wistful, and then a woman who looked a lot like Valerie Solanas came in carrying a platter. "I just finished cutting up some sausages! Does anyone want any!"
"Finally! You have returned!" said the Betty Friedan-looking woman. "Now we can play bridge!"
And the Fuglies were sad. The wise old witch had told them that the boys would never like them as much as the Pretties. The Fuglies all began to wonder if they would wind up killing themselves, just like Sylvia Plath. Oh, it was so poetic!
"There is one thing", said the Betty Friedan-looking woman. "It doesn't help with the boys, but you can use it as a weapon against the Pretties."
The Fuglies' eyes brightened! Hurting the Pretties was almost as good as the boys liking them! "What is it?!" The Betty Friedan-looking woman took down a dust-covered jar from a shelf. "It's called 'Feminism'", she said, as she cracked open the jar.
"By The Goddess! What's that AWFUL SMELL?" cried the Fuglies. The Betty Friedan-looking woman tapped the jar, "I told you. It's Feminism. 3rd Wave. Extra stinky, and without any reason whatsoever. It won't hurt you, but it will destroy the Pretties."
"WANT!", cried the Fuglies, "WANT! WANT! WANT! WAAAAAAAAAAAAANT!"
"It does have one side effect, though", said the Betty Friedan-looking woman.
"What?", cried the Fuglies.
"It will give you an unnatural affection for cats," said the Betty Friedan-looking woman.
"DONE DEAL!" cried the Fuglies.
So the Fuglies took the jar of Feminism back home, and the slipped it into the Pretties yogurt when they weren't looking, and what happened next became known as the Great Miasma (although for some reason the Fuglies called it the "Third Wave").
It had the most wicked effect. The sun turned gray and the sky became dark. All of the flavor went of everyone's coffee and, worst of all, the Pretties began to act like Fuglies! "Come," said the boys to the Pretties, "Feed us grapes and let us feel your glutes."
"No!", cried the Pretties! "Stop objectifying us you misogynist bastards!" And the Pretties went away, and changed their booty shorts for business suits, some with large shoulder pads. The boys were sad and the Fuglies were filled with glee, on their way to the shelter, because three cats weren't enough, right?
Worse, for the boys, about half of their mums were affected, and sent their fathers away using a legal weapon called "divorce". They didn't understand it, but they were sad without their fathers. Even worse still, there was no one to teach the boys to become Men.
And so it went. Most of the Pretties forsook men and worked in stupid, pointless HR jobs. Some of them still liked men, even older men, but most of them talked of "finding themselves". Many of the boys grew depressed and fat. They subsisted on something called "Cheetos" and withdrew into caves and became hermits, seeking answers in electronic temples called "Stations" or "Playstations" or something. Others, called "Fappers", claimed that they had found hot, slender Pretties who were DTF. "WHERE?!" cried the other boys. "You know," said the Fappers, "On the internet." And the other boys were dejected and sad.
The poison that had worked on the Pretties wore off after about ten or 15 years, and the Pretties then realized how stupid they had been and then they went to the boys, but the boys said, "We don't want you, now. You are no longer Pretties." And the Fuglies gave the younger Pretties poison each year, and so the Great Wasting continued. And the Fuglies were happy. They had won! They didn't have the boys but neither did the Pretties, except the ones who weren't affected or those who became something called "Cougars". The Fuglies celebrated by each getting a 4th and 5th cat from the shelter!
And the land was poisoned. The Boys were unhappy, the Pretties had lost all reason and sense, and the fuglies were each up to their 9th cat.
Until one day, the boys heard the sound of a conch, and they gathered at Castle Rock. They had never gathered there before, but it seemed right. The boy who had sounded the conch spoke: "Men," he said. The boys liked that. They had never been called that before. They knew that the Fathers had been Men, before they had been driven out.
"Men," said the man who had sounded the conch. "As you may have realized, a Great Pestilence has come upon us. The sun is gray, the sky is dark and the land is poisoned. All the taste has gone out of our coffee. Worse, the Pretties don't wear booty shorts anymore, or let us feel their glutes." The boys grunted in agreement. "You may also have noticed," said the man, "that some of the Pretties are unaffected, but they seem only to be interested in men named 'Chad', and sometimes older men also." The boys again agreed.
"So I went to see Uncle Vasya, because he is old and wise, and he always seems to have extra Pretties near him. We sat by his fire and he talked of “Abundance” and “Outcome Independence” and “DGAF” and killing of “Approach Anxiety” and how “Women are a lagging indicator” and such. And then the fire grew low, and he rubbed his chin whiskers and then he told me a story from the Before Time. It had legends about meals that were ‘home-cooked’…” The boys gasped at that. Did not such things exist only in legends? ”…and how the Pretties would wear such things as ‘thongs’ that showed off their magnificent glutes, and were interested in pleasing men and not wasting the flower of their youth as drones in cold, sterile cube farms. I didn’t believe him, until a Tier 1 Pretty that I’d never seen before walked in carrying a platter with grapes on it. My eyes bugged out because she was wearing a thong and Her.Glutes.Were.MAGNIFICENT!”
The boys sighed at this.
The Tier 1 Pretty said to him, “Shall I fetch Holly yet? Or do you need more time?”
“Uncle Vasya looked at me, smiled and said, ‘Too bad you can’t stay!’ and then he told me to go see the All Father. I asked if he would show me the way. He looked at me sternly, held up his index finger and said, ‘No. Each boy must travel his own journey if he will become a man! So I traveled for many days over hills and valleys, swam rivers and streams and climbed up to the mountain top where the All Father's castle stood.”
The man told of standing at the gate of the All-Father’s castle. The doors opened, but no one was there. He went into the Great Hall. It was empty of people, except for an old man dozing on the throne. As he approached, the man’s eyes flashed open and he leaped to his feet! The ‘old man’ was thickly muscled and stood nearly 2.5 meters tall! “WHO DISTURBS THE ALL-FATHER’S SLUMBER?!” he bellowed.
“I seek your guidance, great All-Father! The Fuglies have poisoned the Pretties against us!”
The All-Father glared down at the boy, as only the All-Father can do. He pondered for a moment and then he said to the boy, “Dude. Do you even Sidebar? You look awful. Very pasty and weak. Are there not Temples of Iron? Feel you no Fire in your Blood?”
The All-Father’s look softened. ”Come, lad…let me tell you of the ‘Before’ Time, before the poison of the witch’s magic descended upon the Land, and what to do now…here, let me show you how to do ‘preacher curls’….”
. . . . . . . . . .
So the boy with the conch, the Man with the conch said next, ”So I learned from the All-Father. And I say to you now, ‘Rejoice my brothers, that you were born male, and thus given the choice to be MEN--to dare great things, to achieve great things, to create, to invent, to think, to reason, to sing, to shout in joy and passion, to love and be loved. We must Lift and build and sing as we work. And hold up our achievements as beacons, so those women who are not poisoned can find us. And at night to sit by the fire and enjoy the Juice of Life with our friends, and the pleasures of our women.’”
. . . . . . . . . .
The fire had again died down. The boys were silent. Uncle Vasya, who had arrived during the telling of the story, rubbed his chin whiskers. ”You know,” he said, after a long while, ”The Fuglies have been poisoned, also.” The boys looked confused by all this. ”They have been poisoned by envy. It is the 3rd Most Powerful Force in the Universe. The first is ‘Unconditional Love’, but that one exists only in theory, although I think I have seen it in faithful pets, and the 2nd is ‘Stupid People in Large Groups’. The Fuglies are bitter because they are not Pretties, and their bile and Envy hollows them out from the inside. They cry at night because they have only cat children. But do not pity them. They chose their ways. And so now, dear lads, you must Walk the Path of War. A noble God Emperor rises in the West. Here is what you must do….”