Choose Your Own Adventure: Will You Resist Your Cousin’s Sexual Advances in Quarantine?
(06/12/21 7:38pm)
“Ok,” you say starting to turn around, “Wifi should be good — ”
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“Ok,” you say starting to turn around, “Wifi should be good — ”
You’re terrified of Addie, but if the Wifi’s out, you ought to get that fixed as soon as possible. Temporarily suspending your scroll through Twitter, you open the bedroom door and find cousin Addie, freshly showered, standing in just their towel.
It is day 37 of quarantine and you live in constant fear of Addie. For the past week you have only left your room to grab a new box of Triscuits and to use the bathroom — you have done everything in your power to avoid your cousin. You know it’s irrational (sweet cousin Addie could hardly swat a fly, let alone kill a human being) but a dreadful feeling in the pit of your stomach has told you to be careful.
Addie approaches and tears off a section of their shirt. Just as they lean over your leg to apply the make-shift tourniquet, the blare of a police siren stops Addie in their tracks.
“Ugh, fiiinnnee,” whines Addie, plopping on the ground six feet away. “Only since you insist.”
“Sorry Addie!” you call over your shoulder as you take off at a sprint. “This is for your sake and mine. If you refuse to social distance, I’ll social distance for you.”
Desperate times call for desperate measures, but you didn’t think getting run over by a car would be quite as painful as it turned out to be. Several of your bones are broken, and you lie on the street dazed. Your frame was so soft and minuscule that the driver who hit you hardly noticed that they hit anything at all and kept driving.
The toughest decisions require the strongest wills, and your will is iron.
“Addie,” you say gently, “we need to maintain a six feet distance at all times. It’s necessary to prevent the spread of the virus.”
Addie is positively glowing at the compliment. Good on you for making your cousin so happy! An innocent compliment honestly goes such a long way.
Addie starts to protest but you’re already halfway up the stairs. You feel as if there might have actually been something important in the closet, but frankly, at this point, you don’t really care. The world is burning anyway. It’s time to return to your middling daily ritual and continue watching Gilmore Girls, pretending that everything’s going well in the world.
Inexplicably your heart is in your chest. You don’t know why, but you don’t think Addie is playing around. You stand frozen in the living room for a second, just looking at Addie. They stare back. You move to check the closet, your legs jelly.
“Addie, I think you’re pretty sexy,” you say, shivering as the words leave your lips. Your soul squirms in agony— these are words that you know cousins should never exchange. “Now,” you continue, “Please give me back my triscuits.” You extend your palm outward for your delicious little wheat children.
Addie closes her eyes and begins to lean in. Your fist leans in to meet her. Blood erupts from Addie’s nose. Addie howls in pain and grips her face with both hands to staunch the blood flow. While that Jezebel writhes in pain, you grab your Triscuits and sprint up the stairs. At the top, looking back at the hunched-over figure of your cousin, you hiss back down the steps, “This is what you get for fucking with my Triscuits.” And with that, you slam the basement door shut, condemning your cousin to darkness.
Finally, this is the moment you’ve been waiting for: Addie was the first to set your loins on fire at the ripe, young age of thirteen, and now at last that primal, juvenile longing will be satiated. Did you lust after them because their features remind you of those of your father? (Yes.) Has this psychosexual desire manifested itself because your father’s emotionally distant attitude has created a lasting void that only cousin Addie can fill? (Yes.) Is it disturbing that you’re actively trying to have sex with your cousin? (Yes.) All these questions should give you pause, but alas, your lips are already on Addie’s. Nothing can save you now.
… wait a minute.
“All right, you little piss pig,” you snarl. “Give me back my fucking triscuits.”
Addie’s face crumples into a pout. “Am I really that ugly?” they ask. They start to sniffle a little. “Quarantine has been making me feel not at all like myself, so I put on makeup this morning to cheer myself up, and… and even with it… my face is just that bad…”
It is Day 34 of quarantine, and, as is now your daily ritual, you are splitting a single Triscuit cracker with Addie. As you each silently nibble on that wheat-based wafer of joy, Addie turns to you. “Do you think I’m hot?” they ask, their eyes as round and innocent as those of Maryellen Larkin, your favorite American Girl doll.
You are sad and horny. This is nothing new.