Monday, November 27, 2006


The bedroom is a multi-faceted thing. It's a place of rest, a haven, a room where all your dust bunnies go to die. It's also where some pretty strange things happen and entities take over and stuff goes on that, well, doesn't really transfer into certain contexts. But it's all good. Oh yea, it's allllll good.

For instance, when you and your mate, significant other, Friday strange are gettin' it on people change. Forces grab hold. Strange, nasty, naughty transformations take place. Possessions of the prurient kind. Wild. Salacious. Weird.

Just look at porn. In the bright light of day it seems so lame and contrived and there's no way you'd do or say the things those faking sex addicts and paid whores would do and say, now would you? No way Jose. How dumb. Like you'd really screw the pizza boy. Pft. Who needs lacy thongs? And you would never make a face like that no matter what anyone was doing to you.

Until you're in the middle of it all and body's are slamming and things are heated and You. Are. Into. It. Without warning you are foul-mouthed and dirty and you find yourself saying things that make no sense whatsoever but they sound good. Oh so good. Oh yea, baby, that's good.

Suddenly you're gritting your teeth and hissing four letter words and things get lightly slapped and hair is pulled and flesh is grabbed and a voice in the room, your voice, starts to say, yea baby, who's your mama, who's your dirty little mama, baby, who's your DIRTY little MAMA who folds your SOCKS!?! You like it when I fold those socks, don't ya? DON'T YA, BABY!! Oooooo, Ahhhh, YEA. Mama FOLDS those SOCKS real good, doesn't she? Say it! SAY IT! You tell mama what she folds! THAT'S RIGHT, BABY! YOU SAY IT! SOCKS! SOCKS! SOCKS SOCKS SOCKS!!

And you know what? It works. Because he looks you right in the eye with that steamy stare, grabs you by the back of the neck and says the word SOCKS and it's hot. Oh yea, lover, it's fucking HOT! Because you're in that moment. That time. That place. And it works.

But try to leave it there, OK? Don't take it someplace else. Don't bring it to the mall, or the dry cleaners or the dinner table. Because I'm telling you, it's not going to work there.

Pass that butter! Oh yea, you PASS that butter. You dirty little BUTTER PASSER. PASS IT. That's right, pick up that dish and PASS THAT BUTTER!! Dirty little BUTTER PASSER!!

Just like you can't casually ask someone over the salad bowl if they like that cock. Excuse me, honey? Do you like that cock? Should baby give you more cock? How are you finding the cock?

See? Just doesn't work.

No comments: