It’s one of these days, guys. It’s Sunday, rain is splattering against my windows, I have a nice cup of tea steamin’ next to me, and at least one of my cats had the decency to pretend some affection and is now sleeping in my lap (Cheers, Feli).
One of these serene days – so I’ll just have to give in & traumatize a soul or two.

Let me jump back in time a year or two or three – my best friend B sent me a link to a tumblr which deals exclusively with bad literature. I stayed and read and when I resurfaced at least a couple colours were drained from my life. B had created a lingering trauma for both of us that day; now certain keywords suffice to send us both squirming and moaning.

Now, today, I have the pleasure to introduce you to all that lies beyond prose and the aesthetic of words – buckle up gents, it’s gonna be a wild ride!

Our first exhibit this week will be an erotica novel of the different kind. Don’t get me wrong, different can be good – refreshing even! – or absolutely traumatizing. So, let me introduce you to, ehem, “The Erect Oak” by Julissa Redone.

To You, Dear Reader, May you question your life choices as I have questioned mine.

Already am. Thanks for that, Redone.

Bernadine Lestrad considered herself an Earth Mother, a flower child. She loved the feel of fresh dirt under her feet, the way the wind tickled the hair on her toes and the absolute certainty that she was at one with nature. In fact, she hardly ever wore shoes. She wasn’t particularly fond of baths either, so Humankind kept its distance.

Hooo boy, here we go.


Therefore it wasn’t hard to imagine that she would talk to trees. She whispered secrets into sap and leaves, she sobbed into bushes, and easily developed an unnatural affinity for foliage. Bernadine no longer simply caressed leaves, she fingered fronds and licked stamens, all the while wishing with all her heart that they would stroke her back.

I really wish I could tell you how much I regret doing this by now. I am also kind of disappointed at the lacking second alliteration after “fingering fronds”. You had a chance and you blew it, Redone!

These ministrations escalated over time, until, on one of her travails, she stumbled upon an exceedingly masculine looking oak tree in an open clearing.

Let that sink in for a moment right here. When’s the last time you walked up to a tree and thought, “By golly! What handsome, masculine fellow?”. Also, ‘travails’ – really, Redone?

Oooh, aren’t you a delight?” She moaned to herself, trailing her fingers down its trunk, lecherously. “My, you feel so good.

I sure hope her tetanus shots are up to date and all. I am not even going to get started on ‘lecherously’.

She pawed its rough bark, until she palmed a hardened nub. “Mmm, is this all for me?” She purred, rubbing herself against its wide, welcoming base.

Oh god, here we go.


“Oops! Nearly forgot: I have to put on my lipstick. This is a special occasion, isn’t it?” She said to the tree, who seemed to stare back at her, slightly annoyed. “Don’t be that way, my love, I won’t be but a moment.”

Therapy, Bernadine, you need therapy. You really do.

“Bernadine,” The leaves seemed to whisper, “Do you think that lipstick is really your color?”

No Bernadine, it is not. It is absolutely not and you should not have wasted tree’s time wanting to be pretty and shit. Fuck you, Bernadine. Also, dayum son, tree’s passive aggressiveness is right through the roof!

Bernadine pouted. “I hoped you were different.”
The tree cradled her in the crook of its limbs, its broad, manly trunk enveloping her in a protective way.
“I’m a talking tree. How much different do you want?”


(I’m going to spare you all the middle parts because what the ever living fuck.)

Bernadine orgasmed furiously with her last dying breath.


I’ll just leave you with this. I’ll leave you questioning your life choices and those of Bernadine. Be good, young soul, be good.



Like #SadLitSunday? Cool, I’m not even going to try and promise there will be a new one each Sunday, but I’m keeping my options open. Have a really shitty book you want to suggest? Awesome, let me know!

One thought on “Sad Literature Sunday #1 – The Erect Oak

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