Wordsmoker

“What I first noticed about you? This is going to sound a little corny, but it wasn’t your pendulous breasts. No, seriously, it was your eyes. Now you’re laughing. I’m not even sure what color they are, but they’re flawless, luminous orbs tightly mounted in two perfect orifices. It’s like someone took a couple of Brach’s caramel cubes— No, that’s not right. They’re darker. Like swatches of rich Corinthian leather, melted down to a liquid and poured into the centers of matching bone white finger bowls with a pair of black olives dropped into the middle.”

“You’re welcome, but I’m not done. They’re lively eyes, full of mirth and mystery, spattered with something like spam lobbed into an electric fan, resulting in a resplendent spray of pink flecks. No, I think that once you scrape off the jelly, it’s fine. Yes, seriously, on crackers it’s fine. So, yes, I could lose myself in the smorgasbords that are your eyes, but your charms don’t end there. What’s going on with your lips? It’s like they’re out of control—like a couple of wild broncos wearing two billowy red capes. There’s a lot of fun going on there. Yes, sir. A lot of fun.”

“I want to say something about your hair, but I need to go to the bathroom first. All of this talk has made me hot. I need to go splash some cold water in my face. No, I’m just kidding; I just have to pee.”

Restaurant noises . . . thirty-eight seconds of urine sound . . . flush . . . five seconds of hand washing . . . restaurant noises

“I’m back. So, anyway, about your hair. It’s so long and luxurious and thick like Jesus’s. No, I’m not religious either. I’m just saying that your hair looks like Jesus’s does in one of those Sacred Heart pictures on the Santeria candles I’ve seen at Publix. No, I don’t think his actual hair was that lustrous. He lived in a desert, didn’t he? And they didn’t have modern conditioners. I mean, maybe he had some genetic advantages, but so do you.”

“Let’s talk about the elephant in the room: your body. I think it’s a winner. I mean, I can’t really see much of it right now because you’re sitting down and you wore that—”

“No we’re ready. We’re going to go with a Bloomin’ Onion® and a bottle of Yellow Tail® merlot for starters. Give us a few on the meat— Are you ready? Yeah, give us a few minutes on the meat. Thank you.”

“Where were we? You know they always come up at the wrong time. Oh, your body. I know you usually wear a lot of clothes that accentuate your considerable breasts, but in my opinion, your munificent hindquarters are equal partners in the collection of curves that we call your body. Pilates, Zumba, genetics? What do I thank? And do not get me started on that lovely soft pelt that holds it all together. A thousand elves spinning gossamer on a thousand looms for a five-thousand years couldn’t come close to recreating the texture of your feminine sheath. Girl, you rock.”

“Hey, I think this thing is on. What the fuck?”

End Recording