Counter-culture Journals (文革)

Counter-culture Journals (文革)

Monday, November 26, 2012

A really tall girlfriend and a talking dog


Excerpts from The Journals Of A 21 Century Schizoid Man

She crawled out of my bed. She was a goddess to me, nearly 7 foot tall, a blond bombshell. Her tits weren’t real big, but women that tall rarely have giant tits. She did have legs that went on forever and she was probably the tallest woman I ever slept with. That is what attracted me to her. I worked with her in Ponca City, Oklahoma.
We worked together doing inventory for a company that does that sort of thing. Her name was Donna and I’m Mark Spies. The two of us worked together for some time before I finally asked her out. For some reason I always had better luck meeting and sleeping with women in Oklahoma rather than Wichita. I’ve lived in a number of cities and I really believe the surveys that say Wichita is among the worst places for a guy to meet a single woman. I rarely met women in Wichita that would have anything to do with me. But I’ve had a few hot girlfriends from Oklahoma, and a few from other cities in Kansas.
She left my ranch home for her own place. I crawled out of bed and sat on my black leather couch. I only have such a nice house because I used to work for the contractor and he sold me the home for half price. I’ve always suspected that some of the neighbors wish I never moved in. I’m not culturally middle-class, even though I make fairly good money.
Matt The Grab Grass King lived to the right of me. He was a real nice guy and always treated me well, even if I had a hard time understanding his passion for lawn care. The lady to the left of me was a real pain in the ass. She had two SUVs in her driveway whenever possible. They seemed to be a status symbol for her. Her name was Linda and she had four kids. She seemed to believe it was her mission in life to breed like rats. She had a husband, but I never saw him. I believed he drove some kind of pick-up truck to work each day.
I poured myself some coffee that day and sat down to watch my TV.
“She’s not for you,” said chopper, my small Doberman.
“What do you mean,” I said.
“You’re only into her because of the sex,” Chopper said.
“So!”
“Are you ever going to introduce her to your friends?”
“Do I have to?”
“Sooner or later, she will want to meet your friends and your friends will be curious as to the woman you’re dating.”
“Well I guess that could happen.”
“What will they think when they find out she actually thought that Karl Marx was one of the Marx brothers?”
“That is kind of embarrassing.”
“What about the time she thought algebra was invented a generation ago?”
“OK. I see your point.”
“Don’t forget she told you she can’t understand how “niggers” and white people can stand to date each other? You have a few black friends. Most of your friends are left-wing to some point or other. How will they take to your new girlfriend?”
“OK! I see your point. So as long as all we do is have sex, I’m OK. If it comes to getting to know each other’s friends, it’s over.”
“I have a feeling this affair will end a lot sooner than you realize.”
“Sometimes I still wonder, Chopper. Do you really talk to me or are you just repeating to me what I already know in my head?”
“That I can’t answer, Mark my friend. You already know what I tell you. Whether you could figure it all out on your own we may never know.”


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