Divine Advice For Felicity 2

Dear DA,

That creeper Sean has followed me all the way to Star Wars. You remember Sean? He’s the fat, kind of gay one who pretended to be my “best friend,” then tried to rape me. Come to think of it, almost all of them tried to rape me, but he was the worst. Just a creepy, creepy fat guy. Way too fat for a chick like me and he should have known it from the start.

Just the thought of him being anywhere near me—ugh. I can’t believe I used to tell him all my fantasies about Ben while letting him move my furniture, buy me coffee, do my homework, be a shoulder to cry on, lend me book money, carry my books, stand outside in the rain watching my dog while I went to the movies, donate his kidney to my dog, vacuum my apartment, scrub my toilet, get rid of my asbestos insulation, kill the mold under my sink, and fix the water damage to my cabinets. He used me just to try to get close to me. And now here he is in Star Wars. Technically, he was here first, but that’s the oldest stalker trick in the book.

When are these CIS heteronormative males going to learn that just because a girl leads you on for three years and lets you pay off her mortgage and renovate her apartment, that doesn’t mean she owes you anything? Am I right?


Dear Felicity,

I haven’t seen the new Star Wars yet. Who does Sean play? Is he Baby Yoda? Or is he the cat who sings “Memories?” It’s hard to keep up with all the new movies coming out these days. I hear there’s one where Adam Sandler cries. I’m glad Bill Madison is finally branching out—I always knew he had the range for drama. Speaking of range, maybe you should try to be in a Marvel movie. You can be the new Hawkeye now that Jeremy Renner has been outed as a domestic abuser. Or maybe you can get him to pave your driveway or fix your dryer or babysit your kids. Actually, you should probably skip that last one. Apparently, Renner likes to gnaw on children. He pretends their arms are Slim Jims.


Dear Felicity,

I haven’t seen the new Star Wars, but I hear it sucks. Rumor has it that your character wears a mask the whole time and you never get naked. No offense, but I don’t see the point in having you be in a movie if you’re going to keep your clothes on. Boy some of those scenes in The Americans are so hot. It’s like a sex tape of you and your real-life husband with good make-up and cinematography. Would it have killed J.J. Abrams to write a scene where you sit on Chewbacca’s face while simultaneously jerking off Lando and Kylo Ren? Hell, I would have gladly written it for him. In fact, I did. I have 12 entire screenplays worth of fan-fiction read to go. Considering these shitty post-Lucas sequels are basically just fan fiction anyway, Disney may as well just make the movies I wrote.  Would you be willing to fuck a wampa? We could do that scene with CGI if we have to, but I was thinking I might just create a real wampa have you really fuck it. Give it some thought and get back to me.


Have an uncomfortable question? Need some advice about your deviant behavior? If so, then it’s time to pray. Email your question to ryan@skullislandtimes.com, and it shall be answered in a Divine Advice column by Jesus and Satan.

H. Seitz
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