Posted in Almost Dorothy, Characters, Family, The Mother, Themes

Soft Core Porn


I found mom’s porn stash in the oven, half-baked in a casserole dish. “No big deal,” she said. “I don’t plan on cooking anymore anyway. Have a look.”

I’m disgusted by her bipolar-existence and I haven’t had a home cooked meal since I found them. I don’t mind but I’m always threatening her with child services and 911.

“You’re not a child anymore, kid,” laugh attack. “Stand back.”

Mom can’t cook anyway. She’s a klutz. The only thing she can cook is a Spanish omelet and that’s only because Fernando was her first Cuban boyfriend. He turned gay shortly after they met, little twit, she’d call him. We had a coming out party to celebrate his knife’s edge. He was introduced to Cher and never went back. He was so tiny. Mom resisted his decision at first but then decided to bake Fernando a delicious lemon cake with icing in the shape of a large penis. “Size matters,” mom said. “That’s a fact.”

I have no idea what she means but I suspect she’s smart, a knee-jerk kind of intelligence that turns people into elephants, except the men. Mostly the hairy men are attracted to her, the ones with not enough teeth or the men with too many teeth in the front like piranhas. She has many men, suitors I think they’re called, beer guts and full of scruff. I’m not sure what you call the women.

“They’re for research,” she said. “They’re only magazines. Chill out girl or you’ll lose your hair fast. Turn the Bee Gees up. Let’s dance.”

For what I don’t know because she barely has sex anymore, at least as far as I want to know. For certain it is impossible to know with her because she’s the kind of woman who hides birdseed in her knickers. One time she stole a Jesus fish from Dominick’s Bible Books & Crafts, which was located next to the Best XXX Porn In The South Book Shop & Gifts. Our road trip through the sound landed her in jail until they couldn’t decide what to do with me—the fairy princess and her Winnie the Pooh with Garfield head.

“God gives,” she told the cops. “That’s why I took the fish (clenched fist). And I take what He gives. That’s a fact.”

Explicit Excerpt from Laura’s Desires, mom’s favorite soft core novel:

I thought Lucifer had hooves. The asterisk of lust nestled between the firm slopes of his ___ globes. David’s ___ cheeks flexed as he felt that thick finger caress the _____ ____ of his ______. Clarence wriggled his tongue up the tiny ____-chute. Oiled grace. His meaty ____ swung through the air.”

I must admit I was shocked, never imagined Laura would fantasize about a homosexual affair, or that mom had a thing for man on man action. Must have been what turned Fernando gay, having been forced to deal with such a woman as mom, a Pavlovian beast crossed with an iron maiden.

“Mom,” I asked. “What’s it like being a girl?”

“A kind of payola,” she said. “But it’s no big deal. I’ll move them magazines to make you happy. Here, take them out with the trash.”

Kisses she blew, a tornado of them, as she began to prepare herself like Anne Bancroft in Great Expectations, a giant peacock for work, full dress, squawk squawk, full of gunky mascara. She shooed me away like a pestilence, bubonic plague. I took the magazines out with the trash and chucked them down the chute except the one I kept and hid with my pot of gold.

“It’s good for tips,” she said. “The more make-up I wear, the more they pay.”

And that’s a fact.

Author:

I'm not real, but I'm a writer.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s