¡Marge was in the house with a mean trace of ¡YO, Bum rush the dough! I was in front of the spy-glass hollering until the end became the means and her naked butt opened the door. For the third time today the fresh air was in my face, and for the fourth time today I was about to puke. Desperate, I injected my self with novocaine like a dentist.

-¿Would you like to fuckin' have it out, right now?- Marge said, rapping me on the noggin.

¡Oh yeah! Marge. The woman who could instantly lay around nude or could instantly and adequately slice you out a colostomy.

She sat there with a mean trace of "¿You see my eye, aye?":

-¡You're the only eunuch in the world who can't do ten pull-ups!-She snapped and then snapped-off 50 push-ups.

I looked (or at least I pretended to look) as tanned as any pregnant gnome and if the war had been my Dad vs. the Terminator, the first words out would have been: "Fuck you, asshole, it's Oswald the lucky rabbit."

-And I see no reason why you can't be a whore. Except that you're so damn old.- I said and was so right.

Marge made me regret that pencil-necked expression of rage:

-You forget: I'm not as old as you. ¿Or have you changed your underwear this year?-

She had stooped to asking but I wouldn't stoop to conquer:

-I'm going to Pittsburgh. I'm going to see Matt Brady, a man and his banana.-

-¡¿Banana?! ¿Aren't you going with your dad?- She asked in a tone that needed a rinse and set.

-Uh-uh.- I said with the caution of Anne Elk. -This is a great opportunity: I'll have Brady by the gonads today or you can call me a tender, gay doppelganger.-

She ducked my imagery and asked:

-¿How badly do you need a tan?-

-If I don't hide in the office and if the sun comes up in one piece and if...-

-¿What is that that looks like a puff adder with earlobes?-

I could differentiate the American from the calm but not the calm from the Latvian:

-I am now going to intone a little chant.-

Her voice reflected her antsiness:

-¿Are you feeling particularly gross?-

-A little.- I contested. -But no way will I cough up fur balls.-

She didn't reply all instantly. She was astride her talent and I knew that I would be limited to a laser, a Toyota Supra, oregano and a cucumber:

-¿Is sin a significant part of your business?-

-I can't live a decent life sucking on men and lying with women every night. ¡I've got to come up for air!-

-But you could get by with just the men, if there's no other solution.- She knew that green meant go. -That's preferable to coming home with some woman's tits on your breath.-

You and me, i.e.:

-Yeah, but no other poodle-headed vermin would vault into such a conflict, let alone be judge, jury and cartwheel.-

-¿Yes, but is that any reason for you to dress like a high-priced hooker?- She served up a plate of ludes and threw me into MARCH.

-I will be a good boy.- I said, tranquilized.

I didn't make a move for the door, but dreamed silently of Sally's cunt lips. When I started hollering "¡I'm coming!" and spilling my coffee, Jeanie entered the room. She went directly to Marge and gave her the best kiss she's had since I jilted her.

-¡I'm off to Miami!-

She made a large detour around me after a sucker punch to my breadbasket.

-Just a minute, little girl.- I said. -Let me give you the old college tan before your mom puts another tomato in my coffee.-

She looked at me several times per second and continued talking:

-No thanks, Papa. I'm going to a cunnilingus encounter on the bus.-

God vaulted down and sat in my corner.

I looked at Marge. The sound of porta-potties resonated in my eyes. For a moment I got all sentimental, like an extraterrestrial who didn't know its proper hoedown.

-She's a one-iron, Brad.- Marge said, rapping without a d.j.:

-You can't hit her and you can't understand why you'd want to try.-

I said nothing. Sally pushed coffee into me and then wiped my mouth with her labia. The warm coffee and pussy braced my Gorgonzola and toned down my bastardness.

-¿Where is your star mistress...Whatsername Schuyler?- Marge prayed my gun wasn't pointed her way.

I moved like I was about to kiss an alligator.

-¿What pencil-neck gave you that idea? ¿The pope?-

¡I was a prose man!

-Jeanie's nose is all bent and dusty.- She replied. -And there's been a ban on liking your dad tonight.-

Marge levitated to the ceiling and thought up a new question:

-¿When are we going to add on a porch?-

-When you and your demons come down and say hello.

That got a rise of appreciation from Marge's labia:

-¡Let me sit on your face, Brad! I'm not interested in decking you out in seersucker.-

I took the tomato out of my coffee, picked up my body and told her:

-I'm MARCHING.-

She knew I could do it because one of my random sentences had been hung out to dry:

-¡When will you eat me!-

-Tonight.- I lied. -If you're ready, waiting and have your VISA card out.-

That said, I went out the door.

-¡Brad!- Her whine hastened the glide in my stride and the pane in my window.

She kissed me on my hoo-hah:

-Thanks.- I said. -The cock stops here.-

Her brazenness enlarged my already swollen:

-It's not important to suck seed, Brad.- She murmured all the way down my body. -What is important is that there are three letters between J and O.-

I looked at her hands on my cock. I had intended to ask her what the fuck she was talking about, or at least call her sister Linda and ask, but then she bit in.

Marge licked my cock until I poured all over my pants. It wasn't easy and it wasn't tender:

-Brad, I want to tell you that if you need a "¡Quick! ¡Jerk me off!"--my pussy is off-limits. And there's nothing in this world that says I have to suck your old penis...-

-Marge...- I said and motioned to start again.

-Don't start blabbing, Brad.- She was so funny that I forgot to laugh. -My bra size is about as important to me as your haggard looks are to you. When I have your tomato in my hand and a dime in my pocket, that's when I'll do anything on a dare.-

She was pushing down hard on my cock and my screams echoed down every corridor in the house.

I stood immobile, looking at the door, the gism running down my pants. I couldn't think of anything other than having my car dug out of the ground.

I flew directly to the airport and from there I legged it over to the office:

-¿So babes, how did it go with Levi?- I asked Mickey.

-¡Yikes!- She contested. -I taunted him. He'll get together with you in Pittsburgh.-

-¿Say babes, in Pittsburgh if Levi and I are consenting adults do we still go to prison?- That leapt right out.

-¡I told you NO, nard-head!-

-¿What if it's one small step for man and one giant dildo for mankind?-

-¡It doesn't matter!- ¡Sure, not with her tits! -Oh yeah, just a minute. Mistress Schuyler called from Washington. ¡She wants that dildo!-

I reloaded my anger. I'd have to have my cold goo on the plane.

-Send a llama to Pittsburgh.- I said rapidly, cold goo all over the telephone. -¡And send me a whore RIGHT NOW!-

I started feeling silly, mean and a tad mad--all the way onto the plane.

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