Serail Collector : I’m Blonde

In the world we live in, a woman is merely an object.
An object of perfection, stuck in a youth without love handles, without wrinkles, yet without acne pimples either.
Object of desire with properly calibrated measurements to fill that huge gap men bear in their hearts.
That kind of women, of perfect women, Sultan Shariar used to marry one of them a day. Then he had her beheaded for breakfast, the morning following their wedding night.
That man, you see, had once found his wife in courteous company, and he had had her executed without any further ado, so as to teach her some manners.
But his unfaithful wife’s head did not suffice to fill that huge gap he felt in his heart. His wife had been a woman, his wife had been untrue, so every woman was his untrue wife , and he beheaded her each dawn after the other.
Now ladies and gentlemen let me tell you a secret :
the woman does not exist.
Disappointing, isn’t it ?
There’s only women, who are nothing but… human beings, Like you and me. More or less. Get the picture ?
Let’s get back to our Sultan : one day, the sad man married Sheherazade. On her wedding night, she asked for her sister Dinarzade to join her in the nuptial suite. I know what you’re thinking of… two women in the sultan’s bedroom. And one of them started to tell a story.. at dawn the story was not yet finished and Sultan Shariar let her live one more night, so that Sheherazade could complete , and another night, and another, and another. Sultan Shariar had not married the woman he believed, he had married a story- teller instead and during 1001 nights Sheherazade fed him with the flesh of the tongue. And Schariar eventually conceded that his beheaded first wife would have deserved better than the taciturn and brutal husband he used to be, long ago.