might you be coming back to New York? Anytime soon?
Well, I’ll close this. I’m apparently finally running out of words.
Regards,
Genitalia Finkelstein
Violet sighed and leaned back on the sofa. “Clitty, I’m falling in love with this woman.” She reached over and scratched his back. “What the hell am I going to do?”
*
After Violet mailed her reply to Moxie, she and Clitty spent some quality time playing fetch amongst the jacaranda trees outside her bungalow.
In her peripheral vision, she saw Peter approaching her, and she sighed loudly, not wanting to reopen that particular can of worms.
“Vi?”
She turned to him, feeling a mixture of irritation and dread.
“Pardon me,” he said softly. His eyes nervously darted from her face to the ground and back again. “I need to get this off my chest. You owe me nothing, but I’d appreciate it if you’d let me apologize.”
She took the ball from Clitty and tossed it again, and the little dog took off after it. “Give it a try. I’m mildly curious.”
“Thank you. First, let me say that I have never felt quite so small as I did after you left last night. I’ve always considered myself to be both liberal and humane, and you showed me that I am neither. If I made you feel ashamed, I’m sorry.”
She squinted at him as Clitty dropped the ball at her feet. “I don’t feel ashamed, Peter. That seems to be the critical point you’re missing.” She threw the toy back out past the trees. “I don’t have anything to feel ashamed about.”
“Yes—”
“Shame should be reserved for occasions when you’ve hurt someone. I’m just living. I don’t have time to worry about what some homespun, folksy neighbors think about my choices. I mean, God only knows who’s sucking Pastor Stevenson’s cock when his wife is at the temperance meetings, and who’s spanking the schoolmarm with a steel-wire brush. What even remotely gives them the right to judge me?”
He cleared his throat nervously. “I have worded it poorly.”
“You have, yes.”
“What I meant was that I had no right to say such things, to belittle you in that way.”
“Agreed, though obviously it’s not just me who’s belittled. It’s everyone who gets lumped into a category for one thing or another and then treated like utter shit for it.”
“Understood. I am very sorry. I behaved terribly.”
“I mean, how would you feel if everyone judged you because of your dreadful mustache?”
“I love my mustache,” he said softly, beginning to stroke it gingerly with both hands.
“And as a consenting adult, you should be permitted to do so in the privacy of your own home, without anyone casting aspersions on you for it.”
He seemed to relax slightly at her humor. “You really think it’s dreadful?”
“It resembles the tightly packed bundles that Clitty pushes through his colon. But I only share that observation because you asked. I’m far too polite to simply volunteer something so tactless.”
“Clearly.” He paused. “Can I buy you a drink, Vi? Make it up to you?”
She smiled. “I believe you may, sir.”
*
Cotton took a long drag on his cigar. “Look, this is no easy feat, kid.”
Moxie looked at him closely, in the hopes of determining if he was lying. “But it’s just taking so long. I mean, how much coercion does it take to get a fella to go see a show? It’s not like you’re trying to talk him into castration.”
“Shh.” Cotton brought his flattened hand down slowly, signaling for her to lower her voice.
Moxie looked around the parlor of her apartment building where they sat. No one nearby seemed to be paying them any attention whatsoever. Was this one of Cotton’s many ploys to regain control of the conversation? “What?”
“Look, you act like I haven’t been on my dogs all day and night working to get you places. I got you that third set at the Luna, didn’t I?”
She studied him suspiciously. “Hmm, how’d you
Well, I’ll close this. I’m apparently finally running out of words.
Regards,
Genitalia Finkelstein
Violet sighed and leaned back on the sofa. “Clitty, I’m falling in love with this woman.” She reached over and scratched his back. “What the hell am I going to do?”
*
After Violet mailed her reply to Moxie, she and Clitty spent some quality time playing fetch amongst the jacaranda trees outside her bungalow.
In her peripheral vision, she saw Peter approaching her, and she sighed loudly, not wanting to reopen that particular can of worms.
“Vi?”
She turned to him, feeling a mixture of irritation and dread.
“Pardon me,” he said softly. His eyes nervously darted from her face to the ground and back again. “I need to get this off my chest. You owe me nothing, but I’d appreciate it if you’d let me apologize.”
She took the ball from Clitty and tossed it again, and the little dog took off after it. “Give it a try. I’m mildly curious.”
“Thank you. First, let me say that I have never felt quite so small as I did after you left last night. I’ve always considered myself to be both liberal and humane, and you showed me that I am neither. If I made you feel ashamed, I’m sorry.”
She squinted at him as Clitty dropped the ball at her feet. “I don’t feel ashamed, Peter. That seems to be the critical point you’re missing.” She threw the toy back out past the trees. “I don’t have anything to feel ashamed about.”
“Yes—”
“Shame should be reserved for occasions when you’ve hurt someone. I’m just living. I don’t have time to worry about what some homespun, folksy neighbors think about my choices. I mean, God only knows who’s sucking Pastor Stevenson’s cock when his wife is at the temperance meetings, and who’s spanking the schoolmarm with a steel-wire brush. What even remotely gives them the right to judge me?”
He cleared his throat nervously. “I have worded it poorly.”
“You have, yes.”
“What I meant was that I had no right to say such things, to belittle you in that way.”
“Agreed, though obviously it’s not just me who’s belittled. It’s everyone who gets lumped into a category for one thing or another and then treated like utter shit for it.”
“Understood. I am very sorry. I behaved terribly.”
“I mean, how would you feel if everyone judged you because of your dreadful mustache?”
“I love my mustache,” he said softly, beginning to stroke it gingerly with both hands.
“And as a consenting adult, you should be permitted to do so in the privacy of your own home, without anyone casting aspersions on you for it.”
He seemed to relax slightly at her humor. “You really think it’s dreadful?”
“It resembles the tightly packed bundles that Clitty pushes through his colon. But I only share that observation because you asked. I’m far too polite to simply volunteer something so tactless.”
“Clearly.” He paused. “Can I buy you a drink, Vi? Make it up to you?”
She smiled. “I believe you may, sir.”
*
Cotton took a long drag on his cigar. “Look, this is no easy feat, kid.”
Moxie looked at him closely, in the hopes of determining if he was lying. “But it’s just taking so long. I mean, how much coercion does it take to get a fella to go see a show? It’s not like you’re trying to talk him into castration.”
“Shh.” Cotton brought his flattened hand down slowly, signaling for her to lower her voice.
Moxie looked around the parlor of her apartment building where they sat. No one nearby seemed to be paying them any attention whatsoever. Was this one of Cotton’s many ploys to regain control of the conversation? “What?”
“Look, you act like I haven’t been on my dogs all day and night working to get you places. I got you that third set at the Luna, didn’t I?”
She studied him suspiciously. “Hmm, how’d you
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