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Fifty-one Shades: A Parody

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Andrew Shaffer

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“From Flood, Flash, and Pheromones--coming soon: In the torrential downpour with water swirling that threatened to pull her down, she didn’t see the voice’s owner. The hurricane had blessed the entire city with a surprise drenching. All weather reports had predicted it to pass over with sporadic rainfall but that didn’t happen. The storm settled over Houston as if it had no intention to move on. Cassie flailed in panic as the roof of her car disappeared under the water twenty feet beyond. She prayed once more that the container in it was watertight. And that she’d see her car again. Then she concentrated on living. Where had the voice come from?”

“From Flood, Flash, and Pheromones--coming soon: As Cassie’s body hurled toward him in the swirl, she realized the brevity of the situation. This was it. This was the moment that determined whether she lived to see another day or drowned in this filthy brown water. This was the moment she proved she had never been a quitter, never been a weakling. All the problems she’d dealt with at work today seemed trivial.”

“.... Dan semua itu berjalan dari detik ke detik, hari ke hari. Akhirnya orang jadi biasa juga dengan keadaannya. Dan mereka, yang tidak kena kerja paksa, tidur sehari-harian, atau berjalan-jalan mengedari pelataran dalam yang sempit itu, mengelamun, berangan-angan. Ya itu pun berjalan saja dan berjalan saja. Kadang-kadang orang tak sempat menginsyafi apa sesungguhnya yang telah dialami sehari-harian. Tapi dengan pasti hidupnya telah gompal sejam demi sejam. Kadang-kadang orang tidak sempat mengenangkan hari-depannya. Orang lebih suka memikirkan hal-hal yang dekat-dekat: makan, buang air, nyanyi, mengobrol tak berkeputusan, memaki-maki, atau mengaduh dengan tiada maksud. Atau-orang memikirkan sesuatu yang jauh, yang besar, yang takkan tercapai oleh tenaga dan tangan manusia-terutama sekali manusia yang dipenjarakan. Kemudian.. Kemudian semua berjalan saja. Berjalan saja. Berjalan saja. Juga umur manusia berjalan mendekati akhirnya. Juga balatentara kedua belah pihak berjalan mendekati keruntuhan atau kemenangannya. Dan tak ada tangan manusia yang kuasaa membatalkan proses itu ...”

“I likened her to the slender PSYCHÉ and judged that the perfection of her face ennobled everything unclean around her: The dusty hems of her bunched-up skirt, the worn straps of her nightshirt; the blackened soles of her bare feet [...] All this and the pungent air! Ô this night, sweet pungent night! "HÉBÉ" may come but a season. But this girl's season would know a hot spring and an Indian summer.”