Jean (addressing Catherine): Life for women is certainly better now than it was in the old days. ---- I can see what you mean about the physical description. It provides more specifics. That's important for a review's credibility. I know how important those prostitution message boards are to Bob. His handle is "Casanova." (Jean laughs derisively). He's become quite the authority on blowjobs. He's consulted whenever there is a question or controversy. We must do what we can to preserve his reputation.
Herb: You're both dead wrong about the physical description. Bob's gotta say something about her tits and ass. He can't use the words "pleasing," "attractive," "delicate," "feminine," or "delightful" either. Too fucking wimpy. And really, who the fuck cares what color eyes she has or whether she smiles or not? You only mention a whore's eyes and smile if she's missing an eye or some teeth. The tits and ass are the stuff men care about. I think Bob's physical description of this whore should be: Vanessa is a thin, pretty woman with dark brown hair, small pointy breasts and a cute little boy's ass.
Jean (addressing Herb): I agree. It's a nice touch to describe her as having a "cute little boy's ass." It's racy.
Catherine (addressing Herb): She really does have wonderful eyes, though, and that should be noted. (Addressing Bob) Bob, pay attention to your mother and change your physical description of this prostitute to read: Vanessa is a thin, pretty woman with dark brown hair, smiling green eyes, small pointy breasts and a cute little boy's ass.
Bob (opening his eyes and lifting the Dictaphone to his mouth): Strike the first physical description and substitute the following: Vanessa is a thin, pretty woman with dark brown hair, smiling green eyes, small pointy breasts and a cute little boy's ass. (Lowers Dictaphone) When other men read my review, they'll think me sensitive for noting that she has smiling green eyes. A little bit of a racy touch as well to note that she's got a cute little boy's ass. I'd like to be thought of as sensitive and racy.
(Bob leans back smiling to himself again as he closes his eyes.)
Ruth: I didn't appreciate you sticking your finger in me and smelling it. That was low and sneaky. If you wanted to eat me, you should've just taken a chance that I was clean. I might have even liked it if I could tell you were serious. At the very least, I would've pretended to like it to make you feel better about yourself. (Deep sigh) Well, what can you expect when you run a sexual day care center for middle-aged men? (Resumes blowing Bob momentarily) You know, you remind me of a fat, ugly little neighbor boy I used to baby-sit when I was a teenager. Nothing I did was ever right. I couldn't comfort him and he wouldn't laugh at anything I did. He would just sit there in his high chair when I was feeding him blubbering and fidgeting with the applesauce dribbling out of his mouth and look right past me hoping to see that his mother was coming in to the room. (Resumes blowing Bob momentarily) When he grows up, I bet his blowjobs will be just like yours. (Deep sigh) It's so much easier to be with men who've rehearsed everything in their mind before they even walk into the room and then have me assume their favorite positions and perform their favorite acts just the way they want them. Or men who think they're studs. Or men who are charming. Or needy guys. Or men who just want a woman to boss them around for awhile. Or lonely guys. No offense, but they're all a piece of cake compared to silent uptight shit-heads like you. Even though it's more wear and tear, I'd rather have five studs back to back squeezing my ass cheeks hard with both hands like they'll own my butt for all eternity. With them at least I can get off on being the woman they want and come with my ass high up in the air and my face down in the pillow like they want it. With johns like you, I have to use every trick in the book to steal an orgasm out of your mind. I guess that's the price I pay to be a genius. I can usually tell with one glance what story a man needs to tell himself to take being with me personally. I'm a professional woman. It's my business to know these things. (Resumes blowing Bob momentarily) Oh, fuck! I have to remember to call Maddie and ask her to stop at the health food store on her way home from the go-go bar. We're out of soy milk and cat food and Mom and Dad need laundry detergent.
(Spotlights slowly illuminate a second row of chairs to the left of Ruth. In this second row of chairs sit Ruth's Mom and Dad with Ruth's lover, Maddie. On the left, Ruth's Dad sits reading a newspaper with his face unseen. His name is Frank. He is in his late 50s and wears khaki pants, madras shirt and work shoes. Sitting next to him is Ruth's Mom. Her name is Ethel. She is a worn, distracted looking woman who is also in her late 50s. She wears pants, sneakers, and a blouse below a cardigan sweater that is only buttoned with the top button. Whenever Ethel is not speaking, she busies herself knitting an infant girl's pink wool sweater. Ruth's lover, Maddie, sits next to Ruth's Mom. She wears a stripper's outfit with high heels and is in her mid 20s. Whenever Maddie is not speaking, she is doing her nails with an emory board.)
Ethel (addressing Maddie): It's so nice that Ruth is thinking of us even now. She'll be a comfort in our old age. And such a hard worker getting home late on the nights she works on the sets of these experimental movies with all these nice people coming and going while we sit here watching. Ruth always loved the spotlight. Ever since that summer night when she was 12. She had a horrible nightmare. She bounced back, of course. Unlike men, women are very resilient in the face of adversity. She became quite popular in high school and always had one boy or another coming to see her. ---- It was sad to see her move out of her bedroom down the hall from ours when she got married to Tony and first moved in to the apartment over the garage. But she's always been just outside the kitchen door and across the driveway. I can always reach her and see her that way. To be able to be close to a daughter and see her is important to a mother, you know.
Frank (addressing Ethel from behind his newspaper): Ethel, get me a beer when the snack cart comes around. And one of those fancy meat sandwiches and a pickle.
Ethel (addressing Frank): Of course, dear.
Maddie (addressing Ethel): Yup. Ruth's quite an actress. She has a great heart too. She insisted that I get my boob job first and paid for it because she makes more money than I do dancing. No greater love hath a woman for another woman than to put her lover's boob job first.
Ethel: Oh, Maddie. You and Ruth are such kidders. Always pretending to be lesbians. When you find the right man like I did and settle down and have children, you'll see married life is best. ---- That young man Johnny who stops by to see you sometimes when Ruth is working seems nice.
Maddie: He's asked me to go to Florida with him to run his grandmother's motel. I think I'm gonna go.
Morgan (addressing Ethel): You'll be pleased to know that Ruth consistently gets very good reviews.
Ethel (addressing Morgan): I remember you. You were in one of the earlier scenes today. You were very passionate. That's important for an actor. And you seem like such a gentleman. Thank you for telling me about Ruth's reviews.
Morgan: Oh, don't mention it. The passionate gentleman character is one of my specialties.
Bob: You sighed. I'm sorry about my first description of you. It was cold and unfeeling. It's not fair to sit here and judge you like you were a horse whose teeth I was checking for signs of wear and age. I've replaced that description with one in which I call you "pretty." That should make you happy. Women like to be called "pretty." It somehow makes everything all right. Who knows, you might have had a hard life. I have no way of knowing. Not that you'd ever bother telling me. I don't have the kind of face that allows people to feel comfortable telling me about themselves. I look selfish and scared. And that's how I really am. I need to be prodded with guilt to feel anything. I didn't start out this way. It kind of just happened to me. I don't think I had very much to do with it at all.
Herb: He's whining again. It's all your fault, Catherine. You pissed on whatever spark he had in him at birth. His soul is nothing but a little pile of soggy ashes swimming in his mother's pee.
Catherine: And I suppose you had nothing to do with it.
Herb: He could have stood up to me if he wanted. I used to goad him hoping that he would. But he never did.
Bob: It started when I was seven. Every night I would lay in bed, close my eyes and open them right away again and again for at least an hour before finally falling asleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I was certain that Mr. Ed, the talking horse from television, was putting his head in through my bedroom window and saying to me: "Heh, Bobby. When you fall asleep tonight, I'm going to bite your pee-pee off. And it's going to hurt a lot." I knew that Mr. Ed was only on television, but still I thought that he was there. I was sure of it. ---- I never did one courageous thing when I was a child. I was absolutely petrified about sex. I remember once in eighth grade, my friends and I were in the boy's bathroom after gym class. It was in May right before graduation. The girls were in their locker room on the other side of the wall taking showers and getting dressed. One of my friends, Michael, climbed up on top of one of the toilet stalls and looked in at them through the old air vent. He saw everything and described for us what each girl in class looked like naked as she showered and dressed. He invited us to come up and take a turn looking for ourselves. But none of us would. We were all too scared. Finally, Father O'Hara came in and saw what was happening. He dragged Michael down from atop the toilet stall in a rage and beat him with his fists. Michael's white shirt turned red with the blood from his nose. Our parents were called. They had to beg to let us graduate. As our penance, we were required to say the rosary that afternoon for three hours in church kneeling on the bare stone floor before the altar. Because he was the one who caused us to sin, Michael was forced to spend the next week on his knees in church each day after school. ---- I don't know what went on in his mind afterwards, but he made it hard for the rest of us that first day. Instead of reciting the Our Father and the Hail Mary plain as they were taught to us, Michael continued providing further descriptions of the girls while he said his prayers: "Hail Mary, full of grace; Ellen has more pubic hair than a gorilla and will be serious trouble someday by the looks of her. You'd think she was a skank because she has hairy arms and isn't all that pretty. But it's not true. She'll be an animal with that ass of hers, a real hyena when she's being taken from behind; the Lord is with thee; Joanne's tits are actually much smaller than you would think. They have dark areolas that almost cover the entire surface of each tit. Big, dark chocolate brown nipples. As expected, her right tit is larger than her left tit. No doubt they will sag horribly when she is older. Today, however, they were still standing quite firm and tall. I remember squeezing them with both hands the last day of fourth grade and wishing her a good summer with a smile on my face. Why she slapped me for that, I'll never know. I was merely greeting her at the beginning of what promises to be a stunning sexual career; blessed art thou among women, Lynne has hardly any pubic hair at all and what there is of it is mousy brown. It's definitely a case of false advertising. You'd have thought she would have been a true blonde. She's been pure platinum since kindergarten. All that time spent dropping my pencil to look up at her underwear in class was wasted. I should have been dropping my pencil on the other side of my desk to steal a look up at Ellen's underwear; and blessed is the fruit of thy womb; Jesus, Holy Mary, Mother of God you wouldn't believe what Susan's nipples looked like. They were each an inch long and looked like the teats on a cow. Sorry, Gary. But it's true. I wouldn't be caught dead playing with those titties even if no one ever saw me doing it, pray for us sinners, I know I'm going to hell for this someday, but I have to mention that AnnMarie's stomach is so thin, perfect and tan when she stands sideways that I might come right here thinking about tracing the tan line around her waist with the glistening head of my dick before ejaculating into her bellybutton. To increase my pleasure, I believe I shall lightly caress the fine blonde down in the small of her back that reflects the light just so while I am coming, now and at the hour of our death, I would like to die, I think, between Sharon's legs if I had my choice. At the precise point where her left thigh begins below her crotch, she has a small beauty mark. I believe I could talk myself into worshiping her if I put myself in the proper frame of mind. Amen." Through the five Joyful Mysteries, the five Sorrowful Mysteries and the five Glorious Mysteries, he added new details during each prayer. Because she had been his girlfriend ever since she'd given him a lock of her hair in sixth grade, Michael wouldn't tell us anything about what Kathleen looked like naked. During the Glory Be to The Father that ended each of the fifteen decades of the rosary, he would only bow his head and smile to himself while mentioning that she had a cleft in her chin (which we all knew) and was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. "You could have climbed up and taken a look for yourselves," he told us. "I only told you what your girlfriends looked like because you were too scared to look." Since that day, I've always wanted to be the one who looked. That's why I'm here today paying for this blowjob. I want to see things for myself.
(Spotlights slowly illuminate a second row of chairs to the right of Bob. In this second row of chairs sits Father O'Hara, a white haired man in his 60s. Whenever Father O'Hara is not speaking, he reads his prayer book. Standing in the aisle next to him is Mr. Ed. Whenever Mr. Ed is not speaking, he chews on straw.)
Herb (addressing Bob): I whipped you for that. You cried. I never hit you again. I was too embarrassed for you.
Catherine: The girls' parents found out and made quite a stink. I thought we would never live that down.
Father O'Hara (addressing Herb): I should have beaten Bob too. It might have kept him out of places like this.
Mr. Ed (addressing Bob): Bob, I'm still gonna bite your pee-pee off one of these days. I just haven't gotten around to it yet.
Father O'Hara: Mr. Ed, you've sinned. Confession?
Mr. Ed: Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession. Since that time, I've threatened to bite Bob's pee-pee off again.
Father O'Hara: Are you truly sorry for your sin?
Mr. Ed: Yes, Father.
Father O'Hara: In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, your sins are forgiven. As your penance, say one Our Father.
Mr. Ed: Our Father...
Father O'Hara: Quietly, to yourself.
Mr. Ed: Yes, Father.
Ruth: I'm lucky to have met Maddie when I did. I don't think I would've been ready for her before. She's not like the other women I've loved. (Resumes blowing Bob momentarily) There's something special about her and the way her ass and legs move through a room that puts me in mind of a ballerina floating on air. Only I can see her. She's completely invisible to the men who watch her dance at the Angel Inn. (Resumes blowing Bob momentarily) When we grow too old to sell our bodies, we're going to buy a curio store down in the Village. We'll specialize in statutes of frogs and call our store the "Frog Shop" in memory of all the men, those thousands of spring peepers we allowed to touch and look at us when we were young. We'll have an apartment above the store with everything in it that we like just so. When the combined effects of our plastic surgeries wear off, we'll have each other. (Resumes blowing Bob momentarily) For carrying the heavy things and sweeping the store, we'll hire a Senegalese boy that we've picked up on the street. He'll bring us breakfast in bed on Sunday mornings. Then, he'll do each of us in turn as we lay on our old, sore backs kissing. Each month we'll replace him with another just like him. (Resumes blowing Bob momentarily) I've found my perfect love in Maddie. I'm going to take her, I think, to my high school reunion next month. I'll wear a black tuxedo and get my nails done first by Mrs. Chong. A brilliant blood red. Maddie will wear something white and clingy to show off that gorgeous ass of hers. We'll make the Cheerleaders gag.
(Spotlights slowly illuminate a third row of chairs to the left of Ruth. In this third row of chairs sit three very attractive blonde women in their early 30s dressed in high school girl cheerleader outfits. They are each holding pom poms and are sitting with a Korean woman in her early 40s. The Cheerleaders rise, stand and quickly go single file through the rows of chairs to assume a cheerleading pose facing the front of the room immediately behind Ruth and Bob.)
Cheerleaders (shaking pom poms in unison): Mailman, mailman, do your duty. Here comes Miss American beauty. Shake it to the pom pom. Shake it to the twist. Best of all is the kissy kiss kiss.
First Cheerleader: Somehow I don't think he wants to kiss her. To be perfectly fair, though, I wouldn't kiss him unless it would save me from the electric chair. --- National Geographic really should devote an issue to Ruth's uglier johns. If they do, this one should be on the cover.
Second Cheerleader: I've been keeping count. Bob here is the six thousand seven hundred and sixty seventh lucky prizewinner.
Third Cheerleader: By my count, he is number seven thousand two hundred and thirty five.
Herb: You're both dead wrong about the physical description. Bob's gotta say something about her tits and ass. He can't use the words "pleasing," "attractive," "delicate," "feminine," or "delightful" either. Too fucking wimpy. And really, who the fuck cares what color eyes she has or whether she smiles or not? You only mention a whore's eyes and smile if she's missing an eye or some teeth. The tits and ass are the stuff men care about. I think Bob's physical description of this whore should be: Vanessa is a thin, pretty woman with dark brown hair, small pointy breasts and a cute little boy's ass.
Jean (addressing Herb): I agree. It's a nice touch to describe her as having a "cute little boy's ass." It's racy.
Catherine (addressing Herb): She really does have wonderful eyes, though, and that should be noted. (Addressing Bob) Bob, pay attention to your mother and change your physical description of this prostitute to read: Vanessa is a thin, pretty woman with dark brown hair, smiling green eyes, small pointy breasts and a cute little boy's ass.
Bob (opening his eyes and lifting the Dictaphone to his mouth): Strike the first physical description and substitute the following: Vanessa is a thin, pretty woman with dark brown hair, smiling green eyes, small pointy breasts and a cute little boy's ass. (Lowers Dictaphone) When other men read my review, they'll think me sensitive for noting that she has smiling green eyes. A little bit of a racy touch as well to note that she's got a cute little boy's ass. I'd like to be thought of as sensitive and racy.
(Bob leans back smiling to himself again as he closes his eyes.)
Ruth: I didn't appreciate you sticking your finger in me and smelling it. That was low and sneaky. If you wanted to eat me, you should've just taken a chance that I was clean. I might have even liked it if I could tell you were serious. At the very least, I would've pretended to like it to make you feel better about yourself. (Deep sigh) Well, what can you expect when you run a sexual day care center for middle-aged men? (Resumes blowing Bob momentarily) You know, you remind me of a fat, ugly little neighbor boy I used to baby-sit when I was a teenager. Nothing I did was ever right. I couldn't comfort him and he wouldn't laugh at anything I did. He would just sit there in his high chair when I was feeding him blubbering and fidgeting with the applesauce dribbling out of his mouth and look right past me hoping to see that his mother was coming in to the room. (Resumes blowing Bob momentarily) When he grows up, I bet his blowjobs will be just like yours. (Deep sigh) It's so much easier to be with men who've rehearsed everything in their mind before they even walk into the room and then have me assume their favorite positions and perform their favorite acts just the way they want them. Or men who think they're studs. Or men who are charming. Or needy guys. Or men who just want a woman to boss them around for awhile. Or lonely guys. No offense, but they're all a piece of cake compared to silent uptight shit-heads like you. Even though it's more wear and tear, I'd rather have five studs back to back squeezing my ass cheeks hard with both hands like they'll own my butt for all eternity. With them at least I can get off on being the woman they want and come with my ass high up in the air and my face down in the pillow like they want it. With johns like you, I have to use every trick in the book to steal an orgasm out of your mind. I guess that's the price I pay to be a genius. I can usually tell with one glance what story a man needs to tell himself to take being with me personally. I'm a professional woman. It's my business to know these things. (Resumes blowing Bob momentarily) Oh, fuck! I have to remember to call Maddie and ask her to stop at the health food store on her way home from the go-go bar. We're out of soy milk and cat food and Mom and Dad need laundry detergent.
(Spotlights slowly illuminate a second row of chairs to the left of Ruth. In this second row of chairs sit Ruth's Mom and Dad with Ruth's lover, Maddie. On the left, Ruth's Dad sits reading a newspaper with his face unseen. His name is Frank. He is in his late 50s and wears khaki pants, madras shirt and work shoes. Sitting next to him is Ruth's Mom. Her name is Ethel. She is a worn, distracted looking woman who is also in her late 50s. She wears pants, sneakers, and a blouse below a cardigan sweater that is only buttoned with the top button. Whenever Ethel is not speaking, she busies herself knitting an infant girl's pink wool sweater. Ruth's lover, Maddie, sits next to Ruth's Mom. She wears a stripper's outfit with high heels and is in her mid 20s. Whenever Maddie is not speaking, she is doing her nails with an emory board.)
Ethel (addressing Maddie): It's so nice that Ruth is thinking of us even now. She'll be a comfort in our old age. And such a hard worker getting home late on the nights she works on the sets of these experimental movies with all these nice people coming and going while we sit here watching. Ruth always loved the spotlight. Ever since that summer night when she was 12. She had a horrible nightmare. She bounced back, of course. Unlike men, women are very resilient in the face of adversity. She became quite popular in high school and always had one boy or another coming to see her. ---- It was sad to see her move out of her bedroom down the hall from ours when she got married to Tony and first moved in to the apartment over the garage. But she's always been just outside the kitchen door and across the driveway. I can always reach her and see her that way. To be able to be close to a daughter and see her is important to a mother, you know.
Frank (addressing Ethel from behind his newspaper): Ethel, get me a beer when the snack cart comes around. And one of those fancy meat sandwiches and a pickle.
Ethel (addressing Frank): Of course, dear.
Maddie (addressing Ethel): Yup. Ruth's quite an actress. She has a great heart too. She insisted that I get my boob job first and paid for it because she makes more money than I do dancing. No greater love hath a woman for another woman than to put her lover's boob job first.
Ethel: Oh, Maddie. You and Ruth are such kidders. Always pretending to be lesbians. When you find the right man like I did and settle down and have children, you'll see married life is best. ---- That young man Johnny who stops by to see you sometimes when Ruth is working seems nice.
Maddie: He's asked me to go to Florida with him to run his grandmother's motel. I think I'm gonna go.
Morgan (addressing Ethel): You'll be pleased to know that Ruth consistently gets very good reviews.
Ethel (addressing Morgan): I remember you. You were in one of the earlier scenes today. You were very passionate. That's important for an actor. And you seem like such a gentleman. Thank you for telling me about Ruth's reviews.
Morgan: Oh, don't mention it. The passionate gentleman character is one of my specialties.
Bob: You sighed. I'm sorry about my first description of you. It was cold and unfeeling. It's not fair to sit here and judge you like you were a horse whose teeth I was checking for signs of wear and age. I've replaced that description with one in which I call you "pretty." That should make you happy. Women like to be called "pretty." It somehow makes everything all right. Who knows, you might have had a hard life. I have no way of knowing. Not that you'd ever bother telling me. I don't have the kind of face that allows people to feel comfortable telling me about themselves. I look selfish and scared. And that's how I really am. I need to be prodded with guilt to feel anything. I didn't start out this way. It kind of just happened to me. I don't think I had very much to do with it at all.
Herb: He's whining again. It's all your fault, Catherine. You pissed on whatever spark he had in him at birth. His soul is nothing but a little pile of soggy ashes swimming in his mother's pee.
Catherine: And I suppose you had nothing to do with it.
Herb: He could have stood up to me if he wanted. I used to goad him hoping that he would. But he never did.
Bob: It started when I was seven. Every night I would lay in bed, close my eyes and open them right away again and again for at least an hour before finally falling asleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I was certain that Mr. Ed, the talking horse from television, was putting his head in through my bedroom window and saying to me: "Heh, Bobby. When you fall asleep tonight, I'm going to bite your pee-pee off. And it's going to hurt a lot." I knew that Mr. Ed was only on television, but still I thought that he was there. I was sure of it. ---- I never did one courageous thing when I was a child. I was absolutely petrified about sex. I remember once in eighth grade, my friends and I were in the boy's bathroom after gym class. It was in May right before graduation. The girls were in their locker room on the other side of the wall taking showers and getting dressed. One of my friends, Michael, climbed up on top of one of the toilet stalls and looked in at them through the old air vent. He saw everything and described for us what each girl in class looked like naked as she showered and dressed. He invited us to come up and take a turn looking for ourselves. But none of us would. We were all too scared. Finally, Father O'Hara came in and saw what was happening. He dragged Michael down from atop the toilet stall in a rage and beat him with his fists. Michael's white shirt turned red with the blood from his nose. Our parents were called. They had to beg to let us graduate. As our penance, we were required to say the rosary that afternoon for three hours in church kneeling on the bare stone floor before the altar. Because he was the one who caused us to sin, Michael was forced to spend the next week on his knees in church each day after school. ---- I don't know what went on in his mind afterwards, but he made it hard for the rest of us that first day. Instead of reciting the Our Father and the Hail Mary plain as they were taught to us, Michael continued providing further descriptions of the girls while he said his prayers: "Hail Mary, full of grace; Ellen has more pubic hair than a gorilla and will be serious trouble someday by the looks of her. You'd think she was a skank because she has hairy arms and isn't all that pretty. But it's not true. She'll be an animal with that ass of hers, a real hyena when she's being taken from behind; the Lord is with thee; Joanne's tits are actually much smaller than you would think. They have dark areolas that almost cover the entire surface of each tit. Big, dark chocolate brown nipples. As expected, her right tit is larger than her left tit. No doubt they will sag horribly when she is older. Today, however, they were still standing quite firm and tall. I remember squeezing them with both hands the last day of fourth grade and wishing her a good summer with a smile on my face. Why she slapped me for that, I'll never know. I was merely greeting her at the beginning of what promises to be a stunning sexual career; blessed art thou among women, Lynne has hardly any pubic hair at all and what there is of it is mousy brown. It's definitely a case of false advertising. You'd have thought she would have been a true blonde. She's been pure platinum since kindergarten. All that time spent dropping my pencil to look up at her underwear in class was wasted. I should have been dropping my pencil on the other side of my desk to steal a look up at Ellen's underwear; and blessed is the fruit of thy womb; Jesus, Holy Mary, Mother of God you wouldn't believe what Susan's nipples looked like. They were each an inch long and looked like the teats on a cow. Sorry, Gary. But it's true. I wouldn't be caught dead playing with those titties even if no one ever saw me doing it, pray for us sinners, I know I'm going to hell for this someday, but I have to mention that AnnMarie's stomach is so thin, perfect and tan when she stands sideways that I might come right here thinking about tracing the tan line around her waist with the glistening head of my dick before ejaculating into her bellybutton. To increase my pleasure, I believe I shall lightly caress the fine blonde down in the small of her back that reflects the light just so while I am coming, now and at the hour of our death, I would like to die, I think, between Sharon's legs if I had my choice. At the precise point where her left thigh begins below her crotch, she has a small beauty mark. I believe I could talk myself into worshiping her if I put myself in the proper frame of mind. Amen." Through the five Joyful Mysteries, the five Sorrowful Mysteries and the five Glorious Mysteries, he added new details during each prayer. Because she had been his girlfriend ever since she'd given him a lock of her hair in sixth grade, Michael wouldn't tell us anything about what Kathleen looked like naked. During the Glory Be to The Father that ended each of the fifteen decades of the rosary, he would only bow his head and smile to himself while mentioning that she had a cleft in her chin (which we all knew) and was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. "You could have climbed up and taken a look for yourselves," he told us. "I only told you what your girlfriends looked like because you were too scared to look." Since that day, I've always wanted to be the one who looked. That's why I'm here today paying for this blowjob. I want to see things for myself.
(Spotlights slowly illuminate a second row of chairs to the right of Bob. In this second row of chairs sits Father O'Hara, a white haired man in his 60s. Whenever Father O'Hara is not speaking, he reads his prayer book. Standing in the aisle next to him is Mr. Ed. Whenever Mr. Ed is not speaking, he chews on straw.)
Herb (addressing Bob): I whipped you for that. You cried. I never hit you again. I was too embarrassed for you.
Catherine: The girls' parents found out and made quite a stink. I thought we would never live that down.
Father O'Hara (addressing Herb): I should have beaten Bob too. It might have kept him out of places like this.
Mr. Ed (addressing Bob): Bob, I'm still gonna bite your pee-pee off one of these days. I just haven't gotten around to it yet.
Father O'Hara: Mr. Ed, you've sinned. Confession?
Mr. Ed: Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession. Since that time, I've threatened to bite Bob's pee-pee off again.
Father O'Hara: Are you truly sorry for your sin?
Mr. Ed: Yes, Father.
Father O'Hara: In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, your sins are forgiven. As your penance, say one Our Father.
Mr. Ed: Our Father...
Father O'Hara: Quietly, to yourself.
Mr. Ed: Yes, Father.
Ruth: I'm lucky to have met Maddie when I did. I don't think I would've been ready for her before. She's not like the other women I've loved. (Resumes blowing Bob momentarily) There's something special about her and the way her ass and legs move through a room that puts me in mind of a ballerina floating on air. Only I can see her. She's completely invisible to the men who watch her dance at the Angel Inn. (Resumes blowing Bob momentarily) When we grow too old to sell our bodies, we're going to buy a curio store down in the Village. We'll specialize in statutes of frogs and call our store the "Frog Shop" in memory of all the men, those thousands of spring peepers we allowed to touch and look at us when we were young. We'll have an apartment above the store with everything in it that we like just so. When the combined effects of our plastic surgeries wear off, we'll have each other. (Resumes blowing Bob momentarily) For carrying the heavy things and sweeping the store, we'll hire a Senegalese boy that we've picked up on the street. He'll bring us breakfast in bed on Sunday mornings. Then, he'll do each of us in turn as we lay on our old, sore backs kissing. Each month we'll replace him with another just like him. (Resumes blowing Bob momentarily) I've found my perfect love in Maddie. I'm going to take her, I think, to my high school reunion next month. I'll wear a black tuxedo and get my nails done first by Mrs. Chong. A brilliant blood red. Maddie will wear something white and clingy to show off that gorgeous ass of hers. We'll make the Cheerleaders gag.
(Spotlights slowly illuminate a third row of chairs to the left of Ruth. In this third row of chairs sit three very attractive blonde women in their early 30s dressed in high school girl cheerleader outfits. They are each holding pom poms and are sitting with a Korean woman in her early 40s. The Cheerleaders rise, stand and quickly go single file through the rows of chairs to assume a cheerleading pose facing the front of the room immediately behind Ruth and Bob.)
Cheerleaders (shaking pom poms in unison): Mailman, mailman, do your duty. Here comes Miss American beauty. Shake it to the pom pom. Shake it to the twist. Best of all is the kissy kiss kiss.
First Cheerleader: Somehow I don't think he wants to kiss her. To be perfectly fair, though, I wouldn't kiss him unless it would save me from the electric chair. --- National Geographic really should devote an issue to Ruth's uglier johns. If they do, this one should be on the cover.
Second Cheerleader: I've been keeping count. Bob here is the six thousand seven hundred and sixty seventh lucky prizewinner.
Third Cheerleader: By my count, he is number seven thousand two hundred and thirty five.