Sixty Hues of Sex, part 1

Not for the faint of heart. Or stomach.

So I was reading the NY Times the other day, as part of my daily pretention ritual, and I happened upon a section that listed the top 10 best selling books of 2012. What was the best-selling book, you ask? 50 Shades of Grey. In fact, all three books in this horrendous trilogy were on the list. What the fuck, America? What the soft-porn-disguised-as-fiction fuck?! Are we really at the point where some British chick writing Twilight fan-fiction can become a best-selling author by writing such gems as “my insides practically contort with potent, needy, liquid, desire.”*

However, as disgusted as I am by the state of American literary consumption, I am still an extremely greedy individual. So, I figured I would strike while the iron is hot. If this moron can write popular porn fiction, then I sure as shit can. So, without further or do, I present: