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A Letter To He Who Hath Given Me Rib:
Dear Adam,
Screw you. That's it, I'm calling it quits. It's over between us. How dare you not come home to dinner last night! Do you know how quickly food expires in this silly Garden of Eden? Especially considering that fire, salt, and refrigerators haven't been invented yet. All we have now are fruits and bits of grass to eat because the Big Guy Up There won't let us eat the animals (he only made one of each as a template experiment, so we have to wait for him to create more of them in huge quantities before we can sic 'em. Eat one now and boom, it's an extinct species).
And don't give me that crap about needing to "find yourself." You found yourself quite well with me and you know it (incidentally, a little side-note here: STOP bellowing "Who's your daddy!" everytime we do the nasty. Just because you gave me a freaking rib does not make you my father. And if it does, then eww!).
So I gave you the apple. Big deal. How was I supposed to know that it was the Forbidden Fruit (tm)? I thought it was a Washington Red, for crying out loud! I'd like to point something out to you, mister -- one, if we're not supposed to eat the damn fruit, then why did He put it there in the first place? The Big Guy could have just hidden it in his heavenly room or way across the ocean far away from us, but nooooo, he had to place it right there in front of us. Then he waves it in our faces and say we're not supposed to eat it. I tell you, it's a seriously screwed up system that we've got here. He's playing games; I smell a conspiracy.
And two: don't blame me for your weak nature! I just know your plan is to point the finger at me and tell generations after you, "SHE MADE ME EAT IT!" For heaven's sake, if I asked you to jump off a bridge -- which hasn't been invented yet either, but bear with me on this one -- would you do it? Big baby. You could have just said no, you know. It's not like I tricked you the way the serpent did me (and on the subject: did I get any sympathy afterwards for his deceit? Noooooo, it's always the woman's fault. Sheesh).
So you get back here and get your sons, big boy, because I'm leaving you. I'm packing my fig leaves and going. Man as a superior being, my ass. The Big Guy lied, you know. He just wanted to soothe your ego. There's no way in hell I was made from your rib. As all things biological go, I'd first need a heart. Even babies first begin with hearts before they develop into those two scrabbler sons of yours (and before I forget, you'd better watch out for them. That Cain kicks Abel's butt something awful).
And even if it wasn't a heart, it should have been a lung. Made out of a rib indeed. Couldn't you at least have given me a kidney?
So, goodbye. The zebra will be waiting for you when you get home. (And if I ever find out that God had made another woman and you've been with her all this while, I don't care if you go extinct. I'm coming after you with a bone-knife.)
Eve
September 22
Yours sincerely,
-- inspired by some readings we're doing in our Comparative Literature class right now. "The Second Sex" by Simone de Beauvoir, if you want to get specific. (*laughs*)