You like feeling soiled, which is why you're going to read The Girl Next Door, by Jack Ketchum (http://www.amazon.com/Girl-Next-Door-Jack-Ketchum/dp/0843955430/ref=sr_1_1/104-7689561-4961512?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1182790223&sr=8-1). Based on a true story, TGND is the tale of an adolescent girl who's physically and sexually abused by her female guardian and the neighborhood boys. She's eventually murdered.
The book is riveting - head and shoulders above the other books I've read by this author (and better than the vast majority of books I've read, period). It's written in the first-person from the perspective of a boy who's wrestling with his own emerging sexuality and moral intuition. You share in his guilty curiousity but also his growing outrage and remorse.
Now, you're probably wondering what could possibly be humorous about all of this. Um, well, I guess abuse and murder is funny in the same way that crushing the legs of chipmunks with a cinder block is funny: "They're chipmunks - and it's a cinder block! Get it? A cinder block!!"
No?
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