A lifelong friend of mine stopped through town on the way to a solitary week's vacation at the beach.
Things weighed heavily on his mind.
He and his wife work fulltime, and they own their house together outright, both in second careers.
His oldest daughter is a single mother living outside the house, but still incapable of supporting herself, as she depends on him and not the sperm donor for her sustenance.
The youngest daughter, at age 17, is a high school dropout, who quit school at age 16 after being involved in a love affair with her 22-year-old female coach. This was technically statutory rape, but the parents remained supportive of the daughter’s lifestyle choice.
The 24-year-old lesbian lover now lives in the family home in the daughter’s bedroom, which bothers him, but apparently not his wife.
He is set on returning from the beach to give an ultimatum to these two lesbians sponging off of him, as neither the daughter nor lover work! The daughter did work for a while—the lesbian coach, never.
I advised: “Bro, if I had a 24-year-old woman under my roof, not working, not related to me, she’d be putting out for the patriarchy.”
He said, “But she’s a lesbian.”
I admonished, “They can be turned. It’s just like retraining a janitor to be a stock clerk—the same tools, just different applications.”
He rejoined, “Somehow I think The Wife might not be onboard with the idea.”
We both sighed and spoke of simpler times.
*****
When I returned to the Slave Girl’s den and told her of this, she said, “He should tell her to butch up like a man and get a job!”
She then hesitated and asked, “You didn’t offer to go back home and straighten that lesbian out, did you?”
With a Clintonian twinkle in my mind’s eye, I parsed, “I took the higher road.”
She crawled closer, “I’m so glad I’ve read about Big Ron’s fuck parade. I was beginning to think you were a real womanizer until I read about him!"
She then continued, adorably transparent in her line of inquiry, "Baby, are you still going to get together with Big Ron after you’re done interviewing him?”
“Sure, he’s a great guy.”
*****
Later, as she is trimming my beard and shaving my head, she inquires poutingly, “Baby, will you go to strip bars with Big Ron?”
“I’m too old for that,” I dodged.
“Baby,” as the razor slides by my ear, “you never had sex with the strippers when you went to those places, did you?”
“Look,” I scowled, “I passed those opportunities up back when I was fit enough to enjoy it. I’m not that guy that goes to a strip club and has sex with strippers.”
She burst out, “But Big Ron’s that guy!”
“Yes, Big Ron’s that guy.”
Seemingly contented, she sighed, “You know, I never thought I’d ever think of you as a good guy! Thank God for Big Ron. And look at you with that head shaved—you look so handsome.”
“Thanks, Babe. Look, I know we had plans. But I’m going to head over to Hooters for a bite to eat.”
“What?” she chirped with doubt dancing in her eyes.
“I’m short—you think you could give me twenty bucks, I’d hate to be a light tipper?”
Instead of going at me with the scissors in hand, she laughed in a ringing way, and I judged it safe to pass out in her bed, wishing my lifelong friend my silent best.
On Bitches
link › jameslafond.blogspot.com
Your Trojan Whorse
That's fucked up. I look around sometimes and think it's like we're on a party boat on the way to Niagara falls. I and some others see the falls and try to get people to realize we need to turn the boat but everyone is drinking and dancing and having a high ho time and tells me I should just shut up, let them enjoy themselves. Many people who see the same things I do want to let the whole thing collapse. I don't. It will hell, but I don't see how we're going to turn the boat in time.
"Falls, I don't see no falls, give me another beer".