Word

‘Puritanical bullshit….just plain ole puritanical fucking crapola,’ ranted el Hornito into the night air. But how to get around something so pernicious and pervasive? Hell, it’s in our cultural imprinting for each of us to spend our lifetime struggling with our ‘darker’ urges. It’s the height of irony. Ask any southern Baptist…..they drink (albeit in the closet), they fornicate (many a pastor with many a parishioner from what I understand), they don’t do drugs (perhaps, they should). They eat pie and sip coffee in church basements, all the while…. lasciviously coveting their best brethren’s wife’s ass and wondering when they could fuck her next….all the while…..feeling the Lord’s word pouring through them….much like the vodka did in the closet. Judge first, lest ye be judged….first.

Thoughts of matrimonial sanctity danced through el Hornito’s mind. There was something wrong with the protocol. One person for a lifetime? And the whole “until death do us part” thing….that could be a mighty long time…he was sure there were many a spouse, who did right by the collective brain-trust, society. By pleasing society, they did right by their spouses, too? Society would have us believe that….that they did ‘right’ by their spouses, spouses who, as death rattled on their bed feigned not being able to speak for fear they might blurt out what it was that they were actually thinking. So, they silently looked into their spouse’s eyes and thought, ‘…..finally, some relief from your sorry ass…. cya later mother fuuuuuuuc-ker!’ El Hornito wondered if the years of bitterness and boredom melted away as they went into the light. The last tears of good bye were not what they appeared….they were tears of joy.

‘Okay, that is an extreme,’ thought el Hornito, isn’t it? ‘ The term “marital bliss” struck el Hornito as funny. ‘Wasn’t that an oxymoron….much like military intelligence?’ Sure, there were some bliss buddies out there happily married, but he had only heard about it existing. He wanted one of those…one of those, bliss buddies. “No!” society screamed. “No blissing without shackles and happy ever fuckingly after.” Society was mocking el Hornito. Society knew that the majority of the happily married really sat in solitude, resigning themselves to, this is all there really is .American psyche’s schism was a sinkhole..Most were disengaged and muddled through as they shoved their resentments and disappointments down a deep, dark hole in their soul. They smiled outwardly and seemed “happy enough”.

So it was okay to live this way as long as things looked nice and everybody smiled pretty for the picture. Quiet desperation had nothing to do with it. ‘We should have one main partner and several side partners’….that made sense to el Hornito. ‘A little for society, a little for me…. two beasts, one stone. A win-win.’ El Hornito wondered if the French had settled here first and beat the Puritans to populating the land of the free and brave, would our psyche be a tad more fun loving and not so hell bent toward misery? What, after all, was the point in that?

“Fuck that shit.” said el Hornito. The night air smiled. It knew how el Hornito felt. ‘The daytime was soooo deeply overrated. Yeah, fuck that mother fucking shit!’ the night agreed. The night knew it was way more fun than the daytime, by a long shot. “I mean, who’d ever heard of moon poisoning before? Am I right?” said the night to the universe and to no one in particular. The stars twinkled back, giggling. As luck would have it, they knew what was in store for el Hornito.

El Hornito could not believe his good fortune. The dating pool for married men’s affairs typically started with promise and ended in chagrin But this one was different, ethereal. This one was bright and gorgeous, but they all started out that way….didn’t they? Each one seemed as promising as the next until they disqualified themselves….some, with less than dignified departures.  El Hornito sighed and then turned his thoughts to more pleasant things. He was meeting Miss Moonlight! She would be here any minute. El Hornito caught a glimpse of a beautiful brunette coming up the escalator and entering the bar. She didn’t walk…she floated, she was so beautiful. Could that possibly be his date? She looked more hot than her pictures. When did that ever happen? He watched her hips sway as this woman made her way toward him. Her lips looked like juicy pillows. He wanted to kiss her right that second!  Their eyes met and Miss Moonlight gave him a gorgeous smile and as he melted, he said,”Hello….”

“Fuuuuck!! Fuckity, fuck, fuck……fuck, fuck!, fuck!! Hiiiiiiiii…..mother fuckeeeeeeeer!”  Miss Moonlight answered.

El Hornito was at a loss of what to say or do. ‘What? he thought ’who could possibly be up for such an elaborate practical joke?’ He saw Miss Moonlight open her purse and begin to fish for something.

“Fuuuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck…..fuckity…..fuck, fuck, fuck.”

‘What the fuck?’ thought el Hornito. She handed el Hornito a folded piece of paper. He opened it and began reading, “Sorry…I have Tourette’s and am having an episode. I really like you.” ‘Ahhhh so that was it,’ el Hornito thought and then he thought,’Awwwwwwww man she has Tourette’s!! Fuck me!’

“Fuck-o-la….lalalalala…fuckity-fuck!” Miss Moonlight belted out as though she were performing in Carnegie Hall.”La, la, la….kah-kah, kah-KAAAAH!”

El Hornito folded the piece of paper back and finally uttered a sympathetic, “I’m really sorry to hear that…” ‘Christ!! Can’t I ever get a break?’ thought el Hornito.

‘Christ!! Can’t I ever get a break?!! ’ Miss Moonlight thought. He would have to be attractive, which only made matters worse for Miss Moonlight. She really liked him! “Fuck.”  She wished that word never existed in her vocabulary….but here it was in all it’s repetitive, inappropriate glory.

El Hornito searched quickly for an answer…what to do? ‘Do I talk over it? Do I continue to look like a deer in headlights? No, I need to act ‘normal’, right?’ Miss Moonlight felt the yanking from her insides beginning to subside….maybe she’d be able to talk soon? Maybe he could know her as she really was and not as a filthy-mouthed, singing crow. She saw the look of surprise and dismay on his face while her tic took over….even though she understood, it saddened her. ‘ Another one bites the dust….’ she thought as waves of calmness began to flow through her body.

“I’m so sorry….” Miss Moonlight successfully said and began to explain her condition.

   “Please, don’t worry.” El Hornito said. Surely he could get over a few ‘fucks’ here and there? As she explained he could see she was as well spoken as she was well written….she was as advertised…well…sorta. It was almost like hitting the lottery….

What was love without a few fucks every now and then? El Hornito leaned on his house of cards and continued to place his bet on Miss Moonlight. Surely, he could improve his odds….somehow? He resolved himself to find some luck….somewhere. El Hornito looked under the edge of the rainbow and lifted it up like a curtain…where was it? Where was the damned pot-o-gold? He looked to right…not there…to his left…not there either. He looked to the north, west, east and south …not there…was it buried treasure or simply a figment of his imagination? ‘I mean this was supposed to be fun ’ he thought. El Hornito had had no idea finding someone he could get into was going to be this hard, ‘Shit…’

He still wanted what he wanted he just didn’t know if he was ever going to get it.  Were all the good women that unpredictable? He looked to the shimmering possibilities of the rainbow and was beginning to think that it lead to nowhere.  The midget with a red beard laughed. He was at the end of the rainbow, “Did you really think that some hot, desirable chick was the end of this unicorn infested vision?” the leprechaun laughed again. At least he was having a good time, besides being short, it was good to be a leprechaun and not the poor bastard looking toward the end of the rainbow only to find there was nothing there but a short dude with a mean streak. The leprechaun’s laughter trailed off as el Hornito left the rainbow in search of another resource to bolster his cause.

El Hornito looked on while Lady Luck spun. He saw the Roulette ball spin and bounce on the edge of her skirt. She smiled and always winked personably at her new liaisons as they pumped more of their hard earned money and dreams into thin air. Lady Luck felt fabulous and glamorous and loved it when it snowed money. She always nodded and curled her lips upward, looking as if she knew something you did not.

‘This was a fluke, right? Because…this can’t be right….’ el Hornito thought .’Did Miss Moonlight  really just say that?’  Had providence brought him here? Was this some perverse universal lesson? He didn’t even know if he believed in destiny, but he had paid for his ticket and took his seat and locked down the bar as he rode on the Wheel of Fortune. Lady Luck smiled. Was it ever just a spin of a wheel? She would never tell. It would take the fun out of it. ‘Well…. ‘ she yawned and stretched, deciding to let this one sort it out on his own and began to make her way toward the rainbow. The leprechaun was always good for a few laughs.

In the darkness Miss Moonlight could feel the confusion and disappointment in his eyes as she unwillingly bruised and battered his ego. Every time, she hoped it would be different. She hoped she would be spared her audible observations while having sex….if only she could keep it to herself, instead of spewing it all out to her new ex lover. It never seemed to be in the cards for Miss Moonlight to experience a man more than once as her tic always made it’s arrival and began it’s predictable path to romantic ruin. But still, she hoped against hope that this time would be different. She had successfully submerged her tic and escaped it’s wrath when she had been kissing him. He was a great kisser!  In the hotel room they greedily ripped off each other’s clothing. ‘Christ just keep it down! Just keep it down!’  Miss Moonlight thought. This all felt too good!

“ SMALL! SMALL!! TOO SMALL!!!” she yelled out excitedly. “Itsy-BITSeeeeeeeeeY!! Kah-KAAAAAAH!!” she exclaimed. Then silence, a muffled, perplexed silence that only lasted as

long as a short commercial break. Miss Moonlight began belting out a tune. ‘Oh crap!’ she thought,’here it comes…’

“Trojan….MAAAAAAAN!!!” she sung out. “TRJOAN MAAAAAAAN!!!”

“Much, much smaller than Bob….yep….muuuuuuuuch smaller, much SMALLER!!!”

“Trojan….MAAAAAAAN!!!” she sung out again. “TRJOAN MAAAAAAAN!!!”

‘What the fuck?!!’ thought el Hornito. He felt like he had just been broad-sided by a train

transporting a ton of condoms. He felt himself soften up and begin to go limp. ‘Was he that much smaller than this Bob dude?’ He wasn’t small? Was he? WTF? He knew he was at least average.

He was, wasn’t he?

‘TRO-JAN…..MAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!’

Miss Moonlight felt him go limp as he surreptitiously pulled away from her.

“Awwww…fuckity, fuckity….fuck, fuck, FUCK!!!” This time….Miss Moonlight actually meant it.

‘”Trojan…MAAAAN!!!”

Miss Moonlight knew the drill…this was where he left. Exit stage anywhere…as long as it was quick. She sighed and began to pick up her emotional belongings along side her panties. El Hornito was beginning to wonder if it was just one big cosmic joke after another as he softly shut the door on his way out. ‘Providence, kismet, fucking fate? Or were the gods just laughing their asses off?’ he thought. Lady Luck smiled and said, not one word.

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Not Yet

The church bells were clanging. She had never heard their peele before. Had someone died? Had more than one person died? The onerous tone wafted in through her open window steadily barking out a tragedy of some sort. It wasn’t a holiday. It was eight in the morning. The sky was a soft grey. The air was moist. The bells clanged for ten more minutes, then stopped. The momentary hush of silence was replaced by the woosh of cars in the distance.

“My credo is,” he said to her, “first, do no harm….then second, have fun!” She heard his words and looked at him as he spoke. She knew he truly meant it, but, the fact was, if he got caught…he’d blow the first part. His wife wouldn’t like this at all. The woman, looking at the man, periodically wondered if his wife had a gun. The woman also wondered how his wife might feel if she ever found out, deeply saddened and angered, or mildly relieved?

‘If handled properly, affairs could save a marriage. It’s a concept not lost on the Europeans,’ the other woman thought. She had briefly met his wife, by accident….while she was with him. The other woman knew that  American culture was partially built on deflection. She wasn’t the cause…she was just a side effect of the problem. She did not buy into the whole villainous other woman thing where the other woman pounces out of nowhere on someone’s unsuspecting husband who is lured away by the unrelenting, hypnotic command of the other woman’s Circe-like summons. The other woman knew she was just the scape goat.  Was it always the wife’s fault that her marriage wasn’t working? Clearly, that would be unreasonable. The other woman knew that from personal experience. She knew that you just aren’t in control of other people’s foibles or character flaws. Infidelity was perceived as one of them. If not for the duplicity, was it really a failing? People have needs.

‘Why, take for example,’ the other woman thought,’Sixty-four.’ Sixty-four had some needs. Sixty-four had unbridled passion when it came to Sixty-nine. He chased Sixty-nine, shamelessly. Sadly, he was married to Eighty-six. Eighty-six annoyed the fuck out of Sixty-four, so he ran to Sixty-nine. The other woman knew all about Sixty-nine. Sixty-nine had needs too. Sixty-nine’s cravings were so exciting and delicious that she often made a meal of them. Their opulence left her wanting more. The other woman sighed, at least, she wasn’t the only one, ‘There seemed to be a safety in numbers here.’

The stranger officiates the meal and gives an unguided tour of lust and passion, love….even. It’s a nine course meal, to be served over weeks, even years. Sixty-four comes asking for bread. The stranger, delighted to oblige, smiles as he seats Sixty-four at the table. Eighty-six is screwed and so is Sixty-nine.

‘Hmmn,’ thought the other woman,’ a glittering gem is not enough. Or, is it? Aren’t people’s desires just that? Glittering gems and nine course meals, to be admired and consumed? Who would, in their right mind, take that away?’ Eighty-six would. The stranger saw what was coming and twiddled the ends of his mustache nervously trying to figure out how to get Sixty-four to excuse himself from the table. It would be too rude of the stranger to ask Sixty-four to leave, he was having such a good time! The stranger could see that Eighty-six was having none of this and he ducked.

She appeared at the head of the lavish table, extended her arms and cocked her gun pointing at Sixty-four. “I told you we were out of bread,” Eighty-six said flatly to him. Sixty-nine was sitting across from Sixty-four at the table; her eyes opened wide at the instantaneous thought of permanently losing her lover to Eighty-six. Eighty-six caught Sixty-nine’s eyes and then, pointed the gun at her. While keeping the gun pointed at Sixty-nine, Eighty-six said to Sixty-four,”The memory we used to share is no longer coherent. I must rid myself of these unpleasant thoughts.”  Sixty-four leapt from his seat at the table attempting the wrestle his wife’s gun from her as he struggled to keep it from being shot at Sixty-nine, but the gun went off. Sixty-nine slumped on the beautifully prepared seventh course. Sixty-four loosened his grip on the gun and ran to Sixty-nine.”Please…not yet,” he said. Eighty-six smiled wryly and said, “Now, that’s better. All gone. See?”

The other woman sat at this table many a time, but, as luck would have it, was a no show that evening. Earlier that morning, the stranger told her what had happened last night,… about how Sixty-nine had been Eighty-sixed. Was that why the bells were tolling? The other woman saw that dining at Desire’s table came at a very high price. What was life to her without the jewels that glinted? What was it to her without the passion and the love of one possibly, poorly chosen paramour? The stranger, host to all of Desire’s soirees, asked if the other woman was going to stop coming in light of the price increase. She looked at the stranger and said, “No, I don’t think so. Not yet.”