might have a problem.
3
I had never seen my parents on television. The mere sight of them moving in two-dimensional space was so compelling that I nearly missed what was being said. The caption beneath their worried faces read: Parents of the kidnapped baby. The reporter gave my description and even put on camera a photograph of me, however unflattering, and added that I was extremely bright. I did not like seeing my picture there and as I entertained the thought that many people were seeing it also, I felt violated. But finally, what I was left with was a sick feeling because of the tears in Mo’s eyes. Even Inflato’s face showed grief that I found affecting.
“Do you think they know about us?” Boris asked.
“How could they?” Steimmel barked. “I told them at the office that I was taking my long overdue vacation. So, my absence is explained.”
“How are we supposed to go anywhere with him?” Boris pointed to me, then crossed the room and peeked out the window at the morning sky. “It’s raining. Maybe that will give us some cover or something.”
“We only have a few more hours on the road and then we’re home free.” Steimmel started to pull off her shirt.
“What are you doing?” Boris asked.
“I’m going to take a shower. I suggest you take one, too. It’ll calm you down.” She finished pulling her shirt over her head and then removed her bra. Her breasts were ugly and unappetizing, though they did serve to turn my mind to food. Her nipples were very pale pink, hardly more pronounced than goose bumps, and surrounded by exaggerated areolae.
libidinal economy
Just as the good Judge Woolsey had written in his judgment of Ulysses , so I wrote to Boris as he sat on the bed of the motel room listening to Steimmel’s shower:
The effect of Doctor Steimmel is undoubtedly somewhat emetic.
Poor Boris looked at my note. Such an expression I could not have imagined, as it became clear that, although I had written several pages in the car and a couple of notes to Steimmel, Boris did not know my secret, or at least had not believed it was true. He stared at me and began to hyperventilate, his thin lips puckering as he choked himself on his own carbon dioxide. He pulled himself to his feet and ran into the steamy bathroom, leaving the door wide open for me to see inside. I guess the steam exacerbated his problem because he fell to the floor, grabbing the shower curtain on his way down, and exposing Steimmel who was touching herself in a manner not unlike my explorations with my willy.
Steimmel let out a short scream and snapped at Boris, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Can’t breathe, Dr. Steimmel,” he gasped.
“Good lord, man,” she said. “Sit up and put your head between your legs and try to breathe slowly.”
Boris followed her instructions while the doctor dried her body.
“These motel towels aren’t worth a fuck,” she said. “Are you okay?”
Boris nodded.
“What happened?”
“That baby,” he said and he pointed through the doorway at me sitting on the bed. “That baby.”
“What about that baby?”
“That baby wrote me a note.”
“Of course, he did. I told you he could. Why else would I want that shit machine with us?”
“I thought you meant he could make letters. But he used the word emetic. And quite properly, I might add.”
Steimmel sucked her teeth and took a step toward me. “Yeah, the little bastard’s got some fucking vocabulary. He’s what I’ve waited my entire professional life for. Fuck Piaget.”
Steimmel had some mouth on her. And it was no response to her or any of her antics, but no one had placed me for some time on the pot and I did what babies do.
“What’s that smell?” Steimmel asked. She looked at Boris. “Damnit.”
donne lieu
The story is told of Leibniz that he never actually gave gifts as wedding presents, but instead offered brides rules of conduct and advice, the final bit of wisdom being that the woman not give up
3
I had never seen my parents on television. The mere sight of them moving in two-dimensional space was so compelling that I nearly missed what was being said. The caption beneath their worried faces read: Parents of the kidnapped baby. The reporter gave my description and even put on camera a photograph of me, however unflattering, and added that I was extremely bright. I did not like seeing my picture there and as I entertained the thought that many people were seeing it also, I felt violated. But finally, what I was left with was a sick feeling because of the tears in Mo’s eyes. Even Inflato’s face showed grief that I found affecting.
“Do you think they know about us?” Boris asked.
“How could they?” Steimmel barked. “I told them at the office that I was taking my long overdue vacation. So, my absence is explained.”
“How are we supposed to go anywhere with him?” Boris pointed to me, then crossed the room and peeked out the window at the morning sky. “It’s raining. Maybe that will give us some cover or something.”
“We only have a few more hours on the road and then we’re home free.” Steimmel started to pull off her shirt.
“What are you doing?” Boris asked.
“I’m going to take a shower. I suggest you take one, too. It’ll calm you down.” She finished pulling her shirt over her head and then removed her bra. Her breasts were ugly and unappetizing, though they did serve to turn my mind to food. Her nipples were very pale pink, hardly more pronounced than goose bumps, and surrounded by exaggerated areolae.
libidinal economy
Just as the good Judge Woolsey had written in his judgment of Ulysses , so I wrote to Boris as he sat on the bed of the motel room listening to Steimmel’s shower:
The effect of Doctor Steimmel is undoubtedly somewhat emetic.
Poor Boris looked at my note. Such an expression I could not have imagined, as it became clear that, although I had written several pages in the car and a couple of notes to Steimmel, Boris did not know my secret, or at least had not believed it was true. He stared at me and began to hyperventilate, his thin lips puckering as he choked himself on his own carbon dioxide. He pulled himself to his feet and ran into the steamy bathroom, leaving the door wide open for me to see inside. I guess the steam exacerbated his problem because he fell to the floor, grabbing the shower curtain on his way down, and exposing Steimmel who was touching herself in a manner not unlike my explorations with my willy.
Steimmel let out a short scream and snapped at Boris, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Can’t breathe, Dr. Steimmel,” he gasped.
“Good lord, man,” she said. “Sit up and put your head between your legs and try to breathe slowly.”
Boris followed her instructions while the doctor dried her body.
“These motel towels aren’t worth a fuck,” she said. “Are you okay?”
Boris nodded.
“What happened?”
“That baby,” he said and he pointed through the doorway at me sitting on the bed. “That baby.”
“What about that baby?”
“That baby wrote me a note.”
“Of course, he did. I told you he could. Why else would I want that shit machine with us?”
“I thought you meant he could make letters. But he used the word emetic. And quite properly, I might add.”
Steimmel sucked her teeth and took a step toward me. “Yeah, the little bastard’s got some fucking vocabulary. He’s what I’ve waited my entire professional life for. Fuck Piaget.”
Steimmel had some mouth on her. And it was no response to her or any of her antics, but no one had placed me for some time on the pot and I did what babies do.
“What’s that smell?” Steimmel asked. She looked at Boris. “Damnit.”
donne lieu
The story is told of Leibniz that he never actually gave gifts as wedding presents, but instead offered brides rules of conduct and advice, the final bit of wisdom being that the woman not give up
Similar Books
