Young Writers Society

When a man REALLY LOVES a woman they go to this magical place called, "a motel" in which things happen ... I mean...

Alright, alright!

It happened when said, "Adam" and said, "Eve" planned a little randevous behind a cherry tree in said, "Garden of Eden." "Eve" then awoke several months later, after a long hibernation, to find herself surrounded by 99 boys. "Eve" then wondered how she hadn't gone to the bathroom. "Adam" went out and found a job as a lawn mower to support his hillbilly family, who later went out and found 99 naked woman to frolick with, thus, relating all of us, and having God, unintentionally (or so it is said), Valentine's Day, which was named from a Veloci Raptor.... DARGH. THE END!

I mean...

February 14, 269 AD:

This is what you get when you try reverse psychology, thought St. Valentine who sat wearily in his jail cell, waiting for the jailer’s blind daughter, who, now, was apparently not blind anymore because his love for her had shown her the light. “Freaking’ pagans.”

It was time for the traditional men-pick-the-girls-name-out-of-the-hat-to-have-sex-with-her-this-year-or-gain-affection-forever-or-end-up-marrying-her orgy, something he wasn’t considering participating in. From the window of his cell he could hear the giggling of all the women, as they were gettin hit with cut-up-dog-hides smothered in blood. (Sacrificial stuff.)

In this empire, marriage had been banned, so that all the men could have sex with whomever they pleased, whenever they pleased, depending on how much they were pleased.

St. Valentine had been cast away in this terrible cell for conducting secret marriages, much like the ones of Romeo and Juliet, only without Verona, Tybalt, and that fancy Italian garlic bread. As he waited for his love, he took out a piece of parchment and began to write, signing it, From Your Valentine.

He waited and waited for her to appear, before they would take him away to be stoned, beheaded, and then, if all else failed, killed. His mind ran with questions, what if he had converted from Christianity to paganism? What if he hadn’t tried, instead, reverse psychology on that damned Emperor? What if explosives had been near, and used in a tactical way, to get him out of there? What if he hadn’t become a saint in England and France and just became and just became a scholar? What if he hadn’t come to this Roman Empire in the first place?

So many questions, so little time; before he could get his thoughts straight he was led out of the cell, leaving behind his note so that his love may find it. (Or perhaps he took the note with him, passing it to her as she walked by, but who knows? History is hard.)

He was then stoned, beheaded, and killed.

People, although in exstacy in throwing rocks at some saint, became sad and commerated this day, February 14, to replace the pagan love god with the newer, cooler, easier-to-pronounced-named guy (St. Valentine), love, love of him, love of rocks, and some believed he was a rock.

So now all couples have a reason to have sex... without reason...

Sadistic Moral of Valentines Day: Love will get you killed in the end.

Happier End Note: True men will sacrifice themselves for love.

My Opinion: Love will get men killed in the most amusing fashion.

Couples Thoughts: Let's have sex!

Biblography:

http://wilstar.com/holidays/valentn.htm

http://www.historychannel.com/exhibits/ ... ge=history

http://www.pictureframes.co.uk/pages/sa ... entine.htm