“That thing is just obscene!”
That kind of line, when harshly whispered, will always catch my attention.
I have been waiting patiently at Starbucks for my favorite people, the Evil Couple, to start the show. I have never sat near them that there has not been a show. (To catch up on who the hell these people are, click here.)
They are whispering, something never done before.
To my mind, that says one thing.
Its something dirty.
Based on what comments I have been able to make out, Mrs. Evil Couple was either given or has bought, a marital aid.
That revelation is both erotic and somewhat icky.
Let me explain.
Mrs. Evil couple is in her mid thirties, and might be one of the hottest women I have ever scene, but only on that rare one time out of a hundred that she dresses up.
The other 99 times, she has a wild low-rise blonde afro, no make up, thick gray muscle-man sweats, and a t-shirt that is always several sizes too big. (Underneath that t-shirt is a large bust line without a bra.)
Take a moment and let that sink in before you read on.
“Why does it bother you so?” Mrs. Evil is done whispering, it seems. Her tone has taken on something I recognize immediately, I wonder if Mr. Evil does?
She is taunting him.
“You don’t need it!” He is almost spitting. Evidently, even with the decade plus of marriage to this woman under his belt, he has still not figured her out.
“That is your opinion.” She lays that one down like a card shark throwing down a full house.
This was a no-look rib-kick he was not expecting.
“What do you mean by that?” He doesn’t sound so sure of his anger now.
Big mistake, this woman can smell the blood in the water like a great white.
“Perhaps this is not the place to discuss, this.” That is one of those phrases that makes you feel just fucked. That there is a LOT more to say, but it will obviously upset you, so lets take this private. Its a master-stroke move.
Now I am getting the feeling she is taunting me.
Please discuss it here, please, please, please. I am not above a little psychic begging here.
There is such a duel set of feelings in observing this woman. How can anyone be both vile and desirable at the same time.
Its like the old show Kung Fu, with the studant trying to snatch the pebble from the master’s hand. Except that the master is Charles Manson, with incredible cleavage.
Thats where I am at. Sometimes this blog twists the shit out of me.
Where were we?
Oh, right, the aforementioned vibrator.
Confusion is almost dribbling down his leg like piss at this point.
“I think we are ok in that department.” His tone makes this a question.
She will not let this one go. I have seen her eviscerate him with less of a straight line.
She sips her coffee and eyes him over the rim like a cheetah looking over the caribou from the tall grass.
This is not going to be pretty.
“It is not for me. Its for Magda’s shower.” She smiles slightly, batting her eyelashes at him.
I’ll be damned. She let him off the hook.
She pulled her punch and threw the fight.
As I sip my coffee, I remind myself of the fact that while she may think her husband is an idiot…
He is still her husband.
As I pack up my laptop and head down the street, a song is in my head. As I get to the corner, I remember the title of the song and I suddenly know why this particular song is in my head in the first place.
“The lion sleeps tonight.”
She’ll be back.