The Mansplainer
In the sociable, jostling crush of the after-party he felt, once again, that overwhelming urge to pontificate. He glanced out, across the room, seeking an audience.
He thanked his lucky stars that he was taller than most and could easily scan the room without straining his neck. Biological advantages were such a blessing.
His morbid gaze fell on a likely acolyte. At the sight of the pink lace, ruffling around a navel-plunging neckline, his exploding mansplaining gland spurred him into action.
“That one” He said to himself “Doesn’t have a penis”.
And he honed in on her, fulminating fluids a-flowing.

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