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Plastic Love Blues
Plastic Love Blues
So I'm working it hard the other night with "Shirley",
my blowup love doll. I went all out here ladies and fellas.
Take out fom the finest $5.99 Chinese place I could find
(she was oddly reticent to eat tho - maybe it was first date
jitters), BRAND name soda (not that store brand knock off
either, I'm talking RC Cola quality here) - the WORKS
baby. The conversation takes some ominous turns, like
do I prefer extruded or intruded seams, do I have a preference
over imported versus domestic plastic (how can I avoid
sounding bigotish in THAT situation I implore you!) - stuff
like that. So I pull out my repitoire of smooth pickup lines.
"Hey baby, is that a 1/4 inch blow up nozzle or are you
just happy to see me?"
Nothing. Not even a smile.
"Your eye's are dreamy, and so close to centered
on your face."
Just that wide open mouth gape at me, like I had just swallowed
a frog and farted out 'kermit'.
I cracked my knuckles and shot my best line at her, expectant
and ready for her to jump on me and lavish me with 100% vinyl
on skin lovin.
"What's a doll like you doing in a dump like this"
I asked, sweeping my arms around the cinder block shelving
of my living room.
Yep, you guessed it. Nada. Nill. El Zippo. Just that damn
gawping, mouth open "OOOO" of horror, like
I just admitted I tossed out my plastic grocery sacks instead
of recycling (I guess they could have been a relative of
hers, come to think of it).
You know, I think of myself as a centered man, confident,
full of poise and grace. But when a damn inanimate blowup
doll dusts you off and opts for the semi-full Hefty sack
in the garbage pail, it hurts, ya know?
They are getting married next week. My gift is the plastic
repair kit. Fucking Hefty bags - always so smooth and macho
with that pull-string closer they have...
Up inthe sky! It's a bird, it's a plane, it's inthefe