Walking Practice

by Dolki Min

Once, I plucked up the courage and stuck my hand out to hail one and a toe popped out on my elbow; the taxi driver, eyes nearly popping out of his head, yanked the wheel and sped away.

You, dear reader, are an old hand at the gender-matching game. No doubt about it! From a tender age you have guessed the gender of countless humans whose bodies are covered by clothes, coming to conclusions based on the gender you believe corresponds to the shape of genitals you believe match up with the remaining exposed parts of their bodies, and you have lived your lives in certainty, believing the result of your deductions to be true. The problem is, however, that you do not acknowledge the mistakes you have made and will continue to make. No one knows that the game itself is a mistake.

For them, life is so boring that if someone doesn’t walk with ease, taking steady steps on two healthy legs of the same length, they violently overreact as if they were waiting for it. I think their bar for reactions is pretty low. They can’t wait to ogle a monster. Without monsters, how would they withstand the unrelenting futility of their days?

It’s actually hard to tell walking styles apart by gender. Because it’s all in your head. That’s why, when I was first learning to walk like a human, I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out the difference between men and women. In my eyes, all humans looked exactly the same. I thought that things that look alike move alike. To put it a different way, I wondered how it was even possible to divide something with so many visible variants into just two groups.

They won’t suspect me. How could a girl with a pretty face and a banging body hurt someone without a deadly weapon? Inconceivable! What a shame. He won’t touch a pussy again, he’s so scared. Why don’t you jerk off with your stump, hahahahaha! I’m infinitely grateful to the cute old man rolling around screaming on the floor. He has proven the excellence of my acting. I’m a real woman!