#Syntax only trying to help but the girl is afraid of him

[beauleifu]

Just some lazy messy Syntax angst for the soul :]

Audio is from Nimona <3 such a good movie

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Matrue [Guns, Violence, Unnamed Character Deaths]

Prompt: Savage, Deadly

Summary: Perhaps having an affair with Russian spy in the middle of the cold war wasn't a good idea, particularly when Freed worked for the American Secret Service. But it was fine, America and Russia were never going to actually fight. Killing those they saw as traitors, however, was apparently a different story.

Notes: This is the forth Fraxus Week submission, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. This story has gunshots, death and description of blood, so be careful if those might affect you. If that's not something you worry about, I hope you enjoy it.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

A War to Be Ridiculed

Year: 1963

Location: Moscow, Russia

When their affair had started, Freed had been paranoid. He'd picked up the habit of looking over his shoulder, trying to see if another American agent might have discovered his behaviour and was trailing him to get evidence against him. At the time, the paranoia had seemed justified: an American secret service operative sleeping with a Russian secret service operative in the middle of an international stalemate between nuclear superpowers was hardly something that would be celebrated.

The paranoia had died out fairly quickly. Now Freed's main concern was how he'd spin his meeting in the quaint little café as a business expense.

Russian pasties were divine, but pricey.

His bosses would have a fit if they knew what he was doing. Hell: half of America would brand him a traitor if they knew he'd even thought about Laxus in that way. But America seemed to throw a fit over anything for the past few years. A Russian so much as coughing unexpectedly seemed to be enough provocation for an international incident.

Ridiculous, the lot of them. Freed was just thankful that he'd found a way to profit from them.

"What can I get for you, sir?" A waiter asked.

"Just a tea," Freed requested, leaning back in his chair. His Russian was perfect both in accent and in syntax. "I'm waiting for a guest; I expect we'll be eating when he arrives. He'll have a coffee when he gets here."

"Of course."

The man left, and Freed spared a glance towards the door. He had gotten there early, he knew that, but he was starting to get impatient. His job – when he chose to do it – was a stressful one. It was what he had signed up for, of course, and the thrill of it was truly exhilarating. But sometimes the pressure of it all got on top of him, and he had come to grown fond of these meetings in their infrequency.

It was a twisted situation, he supposed. He was sent to Russia on a two-year undercover operation, trying to uncover all information that the enemy forces had on their attack plans. For the first few months, Freed had been diligent in his actions, only to find that Russia had as much on them as they had on Russia. Nothing.

Propaganda was a fascinating thing. Everyone back home seemed to think the bombs would be dropping any moment. They wouldn't. Both sides were shit-scared of doing anything.

Once Freed had discovered this, he had reported back to his commanders and had been told to remain there for the rest of the mission and continue gathering intel. Three more months of gaining the respect and trust of Russian diplomats and governmental workers had led to nothing of interest. Both countries were entirely focused on their defensive measures in case the other country attacked, so nobody had any intention on actually attacking. It was a big, boring stalemate that would never actually come to blows.

It was getting rather tedious, and then Laxus came along. A thrilling, beautiful enemy with stunningly blue eyes and a sense of menace and distrust that drove Freed wild.

Their meeting had been a setup, it was obvious. Freed's rise in Russian society had been suspicious, and so the Russian government had wanted to better understand him and the threat he posed. Freed's alias had been a businessman wanting to help the government and in return get investments, Laxus' alias was that of a rich man wanting to invest money and get a return. Freed had known what Laxus was doing, and Laxus had known what Freed was doing.

Still, pretending he was in the dark about Laxus' true intentions was fun. They both spun lies, tried to catch the other out, and there was the constant reminder that they both had weapons concealed, and the person who slipped up first would end up dead where he stood.

The thrill was brilliant.

Their third meeting had been where Laxus had taken things further. He'd worn a suit so snug nothing could be hidden if you were determined to see it. Freed had gotten chills from the sight of it, and he couldn't remember if he was more excited by the curve of the man's ass or the outline of his gun against his chest. Laxus was silently proposing advancement in their roleplay: increase the danger and increase the pleasure.

Freed almost thought it might be an interrogation tactic, a way for Freed to spill his guts once sated. After their night together it was clear Laxus saw the war in the same way Freed did. Pointless, without risk, and something that should be mocked. He wanted Freed; he didn't want information.

You went submissive if you wanted intel. That night, Laxus had been anything but.

And so, their affair had begun. At first it was just sex, with the occasional meeting of their businessman and investor character to keep up their charade. Then, as time went on and they got more comfortable, their meetings became more public, and their facades dropped slightly. They could only meet once a month or so – they had to do their jobs, of course – but it was the most fun Freed had had in years.

Eventually, the quaint little bell above the door rang, and Freed looked to see the object of his affections walking in. Say what you want about Russia; they knew how to breed a handsome man. Broad shoulders, stern features, trim waists, and large thighs. What more could a man ask for?

Freed watched as Laxus spoke to the host of the café, before being guided to sit opposite him. Freed stood and shook his hand as if they were colleagues, and they underwent their normal childishly competitive hand squeezing ritual. Laxus relented first this time, taking a seat at the table after Freed motioned for him to do so. The host left them alone, and it took a moment for Laxus to break the silence.

"So," Laxus rumbled in his beautifully accented, deep voice. "You've not been murdered."

"I'm afraid so," Freed smirked. "Nor you, it seems. We should congratulate ourselves."

"We should," Laxus agreed, mirroring Freed's expression. "How so?"

"I'm sure we're both creative enough to think of something," Freed purred as he saw the waiter approaching with their drinks.

Under the cover of the tablecloth, he brought his foot to slowly glide against Laxus' calf. He raised it higher as the man placed the two drinks on the table and asked if they wanted anything else. Freed allowed Laxus to answer, putting pressure on the part of his thigh his foot found rested at. Laxus didn't stammer or blush at the action – he was a professional, after all – but Freed knew he was just a little bit more tense. He spoke calmly and dismissed the waiter, glaring at Freed once he was gone.

"You wanna get us caught?" He growled.

"If we got caught, it would be entirely your fault," Freed hummed. "Keeping a straight face is rather standard for what we do."

"I'll get you back for it," Laxus promised.

"I certainly hope so."

Freed raised his teacup to his lips, then halted.

He sniffed as subtly as he could, then slowly brought the teacup back down to the saucer.

Arsenic.

Someone wanted to poison him.

Instincts took over, and a list of questions needed to be answered. Who wanted to kill him? Who in the café was behind the attempt? Who outside of the café might be involved? Who had noticed he hadn't actually drunk anything? Where was the quickest way to safety? How quickly could he leave the country without anyone noticing? Was this anything to do with Laxus? Had Laxus been an informant, or was he in as much danger as Freed was?

As he watched Laxus raise his own drink to his lips, Freed quickly took a chance on the latter question. Before the drink could touch his lips, Freed pressed his foot firmly against Laxus'. The flirtatious teasing was now overpowered by strength, and Laxus paused. Freed glanced to the drink with only his eyes, then gave Laxus a meaningful look.

Laxus sniffed his own drink, then brought it back to the table without drinking.

Fuck. This was a setup for them both.

They had to assume everyone around them was involved. Freed had absently noticed how there was nobody younger than twenty in the café despite families milling around the square. He'd been placed at a table in the centre of the room as well, secluded and in the centre of attention. Likely everyone was an agent of some kind, and they all had been watching them from the moment he arrived. This was manageable.

"You must tell me about your sister's birthday," Laxus said, as if the revelation hadn't happened. "She's turning twelve, correct?"

Twelve. There were twelve agents in the room. That was passable, given some luck. But they needed to know the situation outside of the café as well.

"She is," Freed nodded, leaning back in his chair, casually glancing out of the window. He caught a glimpse of something reflective from atop the town hall, and sighed. "Her cousin is getting rather angry about it, apparently her mother couldn't afford the gift she wanted, and so they've been fighting. But you know how young girls are, always sniping at one another."

"I suppose so," Laxus agreed, body tensing slightly. "I don't know how I'd deal with them. I'd want to just leave the situation behind me, but sometimes even doing that means you'll get caught in the crossfire."

They agreed then. They couldn't just walk out.

"It is rather an impossible situation," Freed chuckled, idly toying with the teaspoon as if uncaring. "Sometimes it feels like you can't escape family, doesn't it?"

"Well I don't see any of my family here," Laxus laughed. He didn't recognise any agents.

"Nor do I," Freed agreed. "Thank heavens for small mercies."

They could be facing either Russian or American forces. They had to assume that, as they'd set up their assassination attempts when the two were meeting up, either side had come to know about the situation and saw them both as too big of a risk. Whoever wanted them dead, it would end up with them both on a most wanted list. This was bad.

Conversation without drinking could only last them so long. Eventually, any agents in the café would know their attempt had been discovered, and they'd act. No doubt they'd be armed to the teeth. A bloodbath was inevitable, they just needed to be smart, and they'd survive it.

"The food here is divine," Laxus commented, picking up his menu again. "The last time I ate here, I nearly congratulated the chef."

"Perhaps this time you will."

They'd be leaving through the kitchen then. The sniper was positioned so that he could shoot through the window, so probably they'd not be prepared for any kind of escape, certainly not one through the back alleys. So long as they could fight their way to the back, they should be able to outrun them and get somewhere safer. If even for a few moments, it was better than being in the jaws of their trap.

Just as Freed was about to continue the conversation, he caught something in the reflection of the window. A man tucked around the corner of the café's counter was looking directly at them both, hand scratching at his thigh where a gun most likely was hidden. Damn.

They hadn't finished a plan, and they were suspicious. But it was avoidable.

Freed, very slowly, wrapped a hand around his teacup and brought it up. Laxus watched, face unmoving but arms tensing. Freed tried to make his movements look loose and uncaring as he brought the teacup to his lips. He tipped it upwards, clenching his lips shut as tight as they could be. The hot tea bumped against his lips and stung – either from the arsenic of just the heat of the drink – and he swallowed as if drinking. He could only hope that had sated them.

"Good?" Laxus asked, voice a little stilted.

"Enough," Freed dismissed. "I do wish I'd ordered something a little stronger. Though I suppose it's a little early in the day for that." He casually looked over his shoulder to the clock, to see it was eleven fifty-eight. Perfect. "To think, in two minutes it would have been perfectly fine."

"It's a bastard, for sure," Laxus grinned, gently tapping his knuckle against the table in a sign of acknowledgement.

When the clock struck twelve, they'd go.

What followed was a tense minute and a half, where they attempted to fill the silence with general conversation. Neither man touched their drinks, but it seemed Freed pretending to drink his tea had been enough to convince them that their plan was working. They talked about nothing, though their eyes darted from place to place to make sure they wouldn't be attacked before they could move. The seconds seemed to stretch into an eternity.

Eventually, the bells of the grandfather clock rung, and they both spurted into movements.

They stood, chairs flying back as they reached for their weapons. Freed felt the wind of a bullet passing past him as he shunted himself to the left, and the back cushion of the chair exploded into feathers and dust. Nobody in the café screamed nor jolted; they'd been expecting it, meaning they were all agents sent to kill them. Good, no civilians made things simple.

Freed shot the man opposite him in the chest, a little to the left of his heart. The man staggered back, dropping his own gun as the sound filled the room. Freed quickly emptied another bullet into the man's skull. One down.

Laxus grabbed Freed's shoulders and shoved him back, banging him into a table. Freed watched slightly dazed as Laxus raised his own gun and emptied some shells into an elderly man and a young woman, who had been acting as a father and daughter. The man lurched back, falling against the window that had now been splattered in blood. The woman, who had been shot in the side rather than anywhere vital, tried to rush forward. She was holding a steak knife rather than a gun, and Freed quickly picked up a serving tray and struck her in the neck with it. He did so multiple times, before she stumbled to the ground, where Freed kicked her in the head enough times to knock her out. Either that or kill her.

Nine left.

When the window shattered again from another shot from the sniper's gun, both Freed and Laxus took refuse behind the counter. Wood splintered above them, and they could hear the sound of the other agents getting closer. Gunshots were near constant, blocking off their route to the kitchen and back entrance.

A lull in the shooting came, and Freed rose above the counter with his own gun in hand. He had expected that, with the number of agents involved, they wouldn't be as well trained as Freed and Laxus, and as such had to reload at the same time. Freed quickly shot the nearest agent, a woman in her fifties who was quickly spinning the barrel of her pistol. Freed's bullet landed between her eyes, and she staggered her final movements before falling to the ground in a lifeless pile.

Laxus, in an attempt to save bullets, picked up a sharp knife that had been put aside for cleaning, and threw it through the air. It struck a nearby agent in the cheek, and he stumbled back and grabbed at the deep, bleeding gash in his jaw. Not dead, nor incapacitated, but distracted.

Another agent shoved the bleeding man forward to get a better shot at Laxus and Freed, but Laxus acted faster. This time he did use his gun, and Freed almost winced as he saw the bullet slam into his face, eyeball exploding as the man screamed in pain. He fell to the ground, crumpling up and screaming as he rolled around the floor. Freed might have felt sorry for him, but he was an assassin, so mercy was the last thing on his mind.

An explosion of glass shattered behind Freed, and he winced as glass cut into his cheek. He grabbed Laxus' shoulder and dragged him down again.

There were seven agents unharmed and two badly injured. Feasibly they could kill them all, but it was a miracle they hadn't been hurt yet and their luck would run out. They had limited bullets available, and their impromptu weapons would progressively get less and less effective. They needed to leave and run, because if they didn't then logic dictated they would be killed. The kitchen staff seemed to have fled, so they were clearly not agents, meaning they had a clear escape route. They just needed to get across to the other side of the café without being killed.

"You go first," Laxus demanded. "I'll cover."

Freed nodded, and waited for another lull in the fighting. Knowing he needed to trust Laxus, he ran across the empty café without protection, ducking down to avoid the bullets flying towards him. He heard yelling and Laxus shooting, and hoped that Laxus was the cause rather than the victim. As he ran, he picked up the eyeball-less man's gun.

Once he was ducked behind the kitchen door, he tucked the agent's gun into his belt for later use and brandished his own gun. It was his turn to provide cover for Laxus, and he started by shooting at a woman with a pistol. She yelled and clutched her shoulder, though screamed when a bullet hit her forehead.

Freed shot as best he could as Laxus ran across the room and towards the kitchen. Freed only stopped when Laxus was inside, and the door had been slammed shut. Freed went to run, but Laxus placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What?"

"They'll pursue," Laxus grunted, moving a cabinet against the door.

"Yes, that's why we're running," Freed hissed.

"We need 'em dead. It's safer."

Rather than arguing, Freed decided that Laxus was right. They might not be top agents, but anyone left alive was a hazard to them. Three of them were completely unharmed and could track them. They needed to take any advantage they could get. Freed thought for a moment, before an idea hit him.

It took him a few seconds of routing through the kitchen to find what he needed: a gas canister for the kitchen's oven, and a blowtorch for their deserts. It was nasty and cheap, but it was a bomb. He removed his tie and quickly wrapped it around the handle of the blowtorch, holding down the trigger so that the flame would be constantly ignited. He then placed the gas canister against the barricaded door, which was being banged against by the other agents.

"The torch powerful enough?" Laxus asked.

"In time, it will be," Freed nodded, resting the lit blowtorch against the metal canister. "We need to go."

They did. They ran through the winding back alleys, utilising their maze-like qualities as best they could. They couldn't be sure who was following them and how close they were, so their paces didn't waver, and their determination kept firm. Freed felt his body aching but couldn't stop, not when stopping might mean their lives were over.

Faster than expected, they reached the edge of Moskva River. They couldn't see any bridges to cross it, and running along the river to find one was practically advertising their location. Going back into the alleys wasn't a possibility, and as such they could only do one thing. They climbed the barricade and jumped in.

The water was freeing cold, and it took Freed a moment for his muscles to acclimatise. He brought himself to the surface and saw Laxus had done the same. If nothing else, the quick submersion in the water had washed most of the blood off them both. They both began to swim to the other side of the river, Freed silently plotting how they'd hide now that they were both soaking wet. No plans came to mind, and Freed found himself hoping that Laxus had an idea.

"Boat," Laxus rasped, and nodded his head. "Look like yer struggling."

Freed didn't question the demand, and his practices swimming gave way to thrashing and panicking. He put on a façade of dread, deciding to yell when he knew the boat was getting closer. Laxus wrapped his arms around him as if trying and failing to save him. The two men in the boat noticed, and were rediverting their trajectory immediately.

When the boat was close, they climbed aboard it. The men peppered them with questions, asking what had happened and if they were alright. It took them a moment to see the injuries the two men had sustained, and their weapons.

Freed raised his gun and pointed it at them. It wouldn't work, but he felt like they didn't know that.

"We're going to need your boat I'm afraid," He demanded. Laxus raised his own weapon.

"And yer clothes," Laxus added; always thinking ahead. Two men in drenched suits might be somewhat conspicuous as they traversed the waterways. Two men in fishing apparel would be less so. "Quickly."

The men, fools that they were, took the threat at face value. With stumbling hands they began to strip and hand over their clothes. Within moments, Freed and Laxus looked like any fishermen that you might see on a river, and they'd given the poor men their suits in an act of mercy. They looked absurd and cold, of course, but it was better than finding themselves naked in the streets. Not once did Laxus or Freed remove their guns from their targets.

"You will tell the authorities you were drunk, fell into the river by mistake, and that you're incredibly sorry for causing a ruckus," Freed demanded, voice icy.

"And if you mention us, we'll kill ya," Laxus threatened.

Just as one of the men went to argue, an ear-splitting explosion shook the city. A plume of smoke burst upwards behind them, and the men watched in horror and fear. Freed and Laxus didn't react, and instead nudged their guns forward and looked at the men with feral grins as screams and shouting filled the city.

---

Year: 1970 Location: UNKNOWN

Freed woke to the sound of grunting, and the now familiar sound of an axe meeting wood. He padded to the window of the small cabin, opened it, and looked down to watch as Laxus split the firewood. The man really was a sight to behold; unbridled masculinity in all of its glory. His muscles flexed and the axe splintered the wood spectacularly, and even now Freed felt a twisted thrill at the knowledge of what that man could do when called upon.

He bathed himself in the cold tin bath, and dressed quickly. He attached his gun to his belt and walked to their shared kitchen. He placed a kettle over the fire and began boiling it, walking outside and into the forest where they now called home.

The gun was pointless, in reality. They were nowhere near either of their home countries, where no doubt they had been touted as traitors and been deemed as instant kill targets. They weren't on the same damn continent, but Freed had learned his lesson about becoming complacent. It didn't matter that they were tucked away in a Scandinavian Forest, with only a small town of people knowing of their existence; he would remain armed as to best protect himself and his lover.

Also, the gun was useful in killing the dear.

Laxus grinned at him as he approached, placing the axe down and running a hand over his sweat drenched face. Freed was undeterred, kissing the man he called husband slowly and smoothly. Laxus wrapped an arm around his waist and grinned.

"Sleepin' in again, huh?" Laxus teased, still speaking his mother-tongue in his beautifully harsh accent. "Because it was your turn to cut wood today, I think."

"It was," Freed agreed. "And yet you seem to be doing it."

"Maybe I'll find a way to make you do it."

"Maybe you'll have to."

Both men smirked, tight hand's grasped tighter, and Laxus pulled Freed into a brutally incredible kiss, one he greedily returned.

[techgoddessdeluxe18]

SidGeno Parent Trap AU!

Will someone please write this i stayed up till 1 aimlessly typing this, ive already fleshed it out for you pleaseee

So Sid and Geno played together as Rookies for the Penguins in the 2005-2009 seasons, lighting up the NHL world as they had done always, slowly finding love and happiness together (after the Me 3 years Super league convo, you saw how blushy Sid was), quietly getting married in an discreet court house somewhere in Pittsburgh, having blissfully unprotected sex before and after the 2009 Stanley Cup win, just happy and in love and their life and success was just beginning to blossom.

But Sid finds out that he’s been pregnant with twins for some time now, having been nearly 12 weeks pregnant already by the time the final round was played. Geno finds out that there are some legal issues from escaping the KHL in order to play for the Penguins, and so to settle some ruffled governmental feathers, it would be best if Geno went back to Russia to fulfill those duties. Sid is extremely worried about the awful timing of the pregnancy and the sheer amount of alcohol consumed during the Cup celebrations, and Geno is worried about Russia ever letting him out of the country, or worse; finding about his relationship with Sid.

They hole up in a remote corner of Canada for the off season, just trying to soak in the time they have together before Geno goes back to Russia. Days are spent going to doctors visits, holding hands as they walk around the lake, cuddling on the couch at night, Geno’s big hands rubbing Sid’s belly, little feet kicking as hard as they can, while Sid giggles and twists round to kiss Geno.

Sid safely delivers the babies, two identical adorable boys, who have thankfully have not had birth defects as Sid was fearing, and so the rest of the off season is spent trying to decide what to do, how they could go back to their respective corners of the world and try to raise their kids. They agree to split the kids, and keep silent on where they came from.

Geno returns to Russia with a little baby boy, who will mostly be taken care of by his mother and father. Sid does the same, heading back to Cole Harbor more often than he would during the season, always glued to his phone and even taking phone calls from his mother on game days.

So then the actual story goes, 16 year old Daniel Patrick Crosby and Dimitri Evgenevich Malkin meet at Worlds to play for their respective countries, and like a random dinner clash between Russia and Canada find Daniel and Dimitri really confused because they look exactly the same; dark curly hair, strong solid bodies, angular doe eyes. Their teammates chirp them, saying they wouldn’t know who was who if they switched sweaters before the tournament.

They meet up again after Russia wins, meeting in Daniel’s hotel room while his roommate is away. They’re like 

“oh when were you born? September 1st, 2009”.

 “Oh shit me too”. 

“ oh who’s your parents?” 

“Evgeni Malkin, big KHL superstar” 

“Sidney Crosby” because duh who doesn’t know the greatest player ever. 

Maybe they have a ripped picture like in the movie, like with Sid and Geno holding the Stanley Cup like they did in 2017. Daniel has Sid, and Dimitri has Geno, and they’re like “ yeah Dad never talked about who Papa was, but that he loved him, but they couldn’t be together”. So they whip out the picture halves, stashed in their wallets, and tada they fit. They’re twins!

Since the tournament for them is over, Russia with the gold and Canada with silver, they have a few days to themselves to watch the rest. On a midnight run to Tim Hortons, sharing a box of Timbits, they agree to swap places to meet each other’s dad, and then switch back during the Olympics, let say it’s somewhere in America, in a few months time. Daniel and Dimitri spend the next precious days coaching each other on how to be each other. Daniel is conveniently mostly conversational in Russian and can understand better than he speaks, but Dimitri is a quiet kid so it works out. Dimitri works hard to soften his Russian accent and worm eh into his normal syntax more. They get haircuts together, the barber laughing at these rambunctious twins and their beautiful curly hair, and they laugh at the ridiculous stripes they agree to shave onto the sides of their heads.

Before they separate at the airport, they exchange necklaces, a #45 from Daniel and a cross from Dimitri.

Dimitri flies back to Cole Harbor, and finds his dad waiting for him. He looks older than the picture he has, more lines on his face, Definetly shorter and grey-er hair, and sad eyes. If Sid notices his son hugging him tightly and for longer than he normally does, he doesn’t say anything. They chat through the drive home, to the lake house that Daniel told him about. Dimitri can only stare and try and absorb who this man was, the man who birthed him. Sid asks him if he’s ok as they eat dinner on the dock, bare feet dipping into the cold water. Dimitri can only mumble “you’re the best”, as he snuggles his head into his fathers chest. Sid can’t help but think that his son’s voice sounds different; the way he pronounced best sounded just like Geno.

Daniel manages to not say too much on the flight back to Russia, desperately trying to memorize more vocab and grammar before landing and being picked up by his grandparents. The cooing and lecturing is the same in either English or Russian, so he smiles and just lets it wash over him. He tentatively asks where his Papa is, and Grandmama Malkin says he’s probably wining and dining his latest girl. They go home and Daniel is stuffed full of food, everything Grandmama could have possibly made for his arrival. Geno comes home later that night, tired but eager to congratulate his son for winning Gold for Russia. He notices that his son perhaps looks a little different, ruffling the funny haircut that he had gotten, but more at the expression of awe on his face; a similar expression Sid had on his face when he told him he usually went out last before a game, many many years ago.

So yadada ya, they’re enjoying the time that they have with their respective dads, occasionally wringing out a small story or a sad look of their faces whenever they mention anything about each other. So the Olympics are rolling around, and they’re all going to be in one place (lets just say that Sid and Geno had never attempted to make contact whenever they played against each other, afraid that they might get caught) But Daniel has frantically been calling Dimitri over Geno’s new girl and how he might propose and would ruin their plan to get their parents back together.

Shenanigans during the Olympics, one groups disappearing before the other can see them, until Geno is in the elevator shmoozing his girl until he sees THE ASS tm across the room by the front desk. Sid turns around and just smiles sadly as the elevator door closes.

Then the scene where Sid is walking down the hall and Dimitri and Daniel open the doors at the same time and suddenly Sid is confronted with what he thinks is the son he hasn’t seen in 16 years. They pull him into a room, and explain the whole swicheroo, and Sid is mad because there’s nothing they can really do, he’s prepared to let Geno move on and do what’s he needs to, but resigns himself to being alone.

Then the pool scene, where Geno and his girl are lounging with his parents, and Sid walks his fine ass down the stairs and Geno falls in, scrapes up his nose a bit, Sid bandages him up a bit. Daniel and Dimitri reveal themselves to Geno.

Some time in between tournaments, with Russia and Canada on the rise to be competing for the Gold Final, Daniel and Dimitri bully their fathers into a family dinner at a nice restaurant. They cut a handsome swath at dinner, good looking men in good looking suits. Geno instinctually files in last, whether it being his remembered deal with Sid, or merely to ogle a bit as he pushes in Sid’s seat for dinner. For fun, after dinner, they find a nearly empty outdoor rink, equipped with rental skates. Daniel and Dimitri take off, chirping each other and racing and checking each other into the low boards enough for Dimitri to flip over and out of the rink, Daniel wheezing with laughter as Dimitri hefts himself back over. Sid and Geno skate around at a sedate pace, both having played a round that day and simply watching their sons fool around. They don’t say much. They can’t really. They can only quietly enjoy each others presence, wondering where had all the time gone, all the plans they had had.

The final round for Mens Ice Hockey has arrived, Russia vs Canada for Gold, and Daniel and Dimitri can only watch and wonder to see who will come out on top, and what will happen with their parents, watching as Geno checks Sid into the boards. Sid refuses to give up, and so Canada ends up winning the Gold. Like the 2014 picture where Geno and Sid hug after the game, what the camera doesn’t see but their sons see from behind the glass is the shaking hands of Geno and the single tear from Sid.

Like in the movie, before everyone hops onto their respective planes to their respective corners of the world, Sid and Geno make sure their sons aren’t faking this time, and that they go back to who they belong to. It’s how it has to be.

Cue the rain sequence, the sad music, the umbrellas.

Sid and Daniel return to Cole Harbor, still down pouring and quiet. They don’t say anything in the car ride back to the lake house. They finally arrive at home, and take some time to unpack and get comfortable. They silently look at each other, each longing for their other halves. Daniel had become so close to Dimitri, finding out who he was and planning the whole quest to meet their fathers. Sid just missed his husband, and playing against him after fighting so hard to play with him just made him wish for retirement sooner. They hug, and with Daniel under Sids arm, quietly wander down the bank of the hill towards the dock.

Although there seem to be two people already sitting there, with their feet in the water. Geno and Dimitri turn around, identical smug looks on their faces. Dimitri says, his accent hovering somewhere between the hard Russian accent and the rounded Canadian pronunciation, “hey Dad, did you know the Penguins still have those private jets?”

“Ye-yeah, they do bud”, Sid murmurs, still looking at the tall Russian slowly making his way towards him. Daniel duck out from under his arm to sit with his twin and watch the two goofballs that are their parents figure it out.

“I made mistake of not coming for you once, Sid. I’m not do that again, no matter how brave you are.” Geno says

“And I suppose you expect me to go weak at the knees and fall into your arms, and cry hysterically and say we’ll just figure this whole thing out, a bi-continental relationship with our sons being raised here and there, and you and I just picking up where we left off, and growing old together and… And, c’mon G, what do you expect? To live happily ever after?” Sid warbles, his tired eyes welling up with long withheld tears.

“Yes—to all, except you don’t have cry hysterically.” Geno murmurs, cupping Sid’s face and wiping a lone tear as it falls.

“Oh, yes I do—” Sid is cut off as he is kissed (AKA THE BEST KISS SCENE EVER, CUE THE MUSIC)

Daniel and Dimitri can only grin and fist bump as their parents finally kiss after 16 years apart. They put and end to it when Geno starts to dip Sid into a deeper, more lurid kiss and some major groping, and they push both of them into the water.

During the epilogue with This Will Be (An Everlasting Love) by Natalie Cole, scenes flash by of Geno and Sid holding hands in front of a press conference, their sons standing by their sides, as they announce their retirements from both the NHL and KHL after 20 years, and their relationship and their sons to the hockey community.

Another scene where Daniel and Dimitri attention Shattuck St. Mary’s to finish up high school before inevitable being drafted when they turn 18. It would be the first and only time they play together on the same team, Crosby-Malkin proudly spelled onto the back of their sweaters.

Another scene where they’re all playing shinny on a frozen pond somewhere, Geno getting distracted and just sweeping Sid into his arms after he scores a goal, kissing and swinging around until they both fall into a snowbank, their sons launching themselves at them at top speed.

Another scene where Daniel Crosby-Malkin from the Chicago Blackhawks and Dimitri Crosby-Malkin from the Dallas Stars face off for a Stanley Cup final

And finally, a small wedding held in Sid’s backyard in Nova Scotia, where Daniel and Dimitri stand with Flower and Tanger and Kuni and Duper and Talbo and most of Geno’s Russian buddies as their parents finally get married again, kissing happily under the sunset and the lake shining behind them.

Bonus scene: A few months after the wedding and a few days before the season starts up again, with everyone home, Sid comes down the stairs for breakfast with a strange look on his face and something in his hands. He’s a graceful 43 now, grey hairs really pushing now, so when he says “you boys up to being big brothers?” Geno spits out the tea he had been drinking and jumps up and envelops his husband.

[knifeshoeoreofight]

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6   Part 7  Part 8  Part 9

(Disclaimer: many wild liberties taken with the academic hiring process, North Atlantic sailing, etc. etc.) 

My writing music for this section: X

Bringing Vero and Cath in on the entire thing proves to be a godsend, and Cath makes it her mission to help Zhenya prepare to try and find work in the Maritimes. She sits down with Zhenya and spends hours helping him translate some of his more celebrated papers and articles into English. He does the basic translation and she refines the grammar and the syntax.

“I’m learning so much about marine mammal behavior,” she laughs. When he tries to thank her she waves it off. “I’m supposed to be taking it really easy, with the baby coming so soon. This is keeping me from losing my mind out of boredom, frankly.”

She’s late in her last trimester, belly swollen and heavy. Zhenya knows she’s probably incredibly uncomfortable most of the time. “You saint, too good for Kris,” he only half-jokes, much as he likes Kris.

“Oh, and doesn’t he know it,” she twinkles, and grins cheekily at her husband as he comes in carefully balancing a plate of doctor-approved snacks.

“Don’t I know what” Kris asks, leaning down to kiss her bright hair.

“Don’t know anything,” Zhenya grumbles, to cover up how much their devoted rapport affects him.

Fuck, he misses Sid.

***

By the time his CV is ready to start sending out, Magda and Sid are somewhere off the coast of Virginia.

The closer they get the more Zhenya’s restlessness sharpens. He buries himself in his research, but Vero seems to know just when he’s ready to tear his hair out.

“Take a baby,” she tells him, and hands Scarlett or Estelle off to him. He’s happy to babysit, after all she and her husband are doing for him. And the kids are sweethearts.

Somehow, time passes and Magda and Sid draw ever nearer.

***

A cold call to the Memorial University of Newfoundland miraculously leads to him being invited to speak to the biology department chair via Skype.

“Your credentials are impressive, Dr. Malkin,” he says. “But I’m told you held a secure position in a prestigious university in Russia. Why here, and why now?”

Zhenya answers as best as he can. “Focus for last couple years has been Atlantic humpback population. This area one of the best places to study. Was here last summer, tagging whales for research study. But that’s not biggest reason.” He pauses, and gathers his words.

“Political climate in Russia is… difficult. There are laws about what they call, ‘propaganda.’ And this winter, I meet someone who live in this area. Someone that is not safe to be with in Russia.”

“Ah,” the man says, understanding dawning in his face. “Well, you know as well as I that the university hiring process works in cycles, and that it’s not the time of year we’re looking to hire new faculty.”

“I know,” Zhenya says, heart sinking.

“But,” the man continues. “I’ve looked over your body of work. It’s extremely impressive. We host a lot of different visiting researchers at the Ocean Sciences Center. I’d like to work something out with you. And in terms of next year, I’m very interested in expanding our course offerings regarding marine mammal studies, if the university can be made to agree.”

Zhenya ends the meeting elated and grateful.

***

They have a celebratory dinner after that.

“And another thing,” Marc-Andre says as they discuss Zhenya’s work opportunities. “If Sid says yes to making this public, you could probably have any position or facilities you wanted, anywhere.”

“If,” Zhenya stresses. “Up to Sid. And I’m think about this a lot. If this doesn’t work out, can just work on fishing boat or some other job like that. Anything, so I’m close.” Cath smiles and pats his hand.

“Explain it to me again,” Vero asks. “Why tell anyone, ever? Wouldn’t they just, I don’t know, put him a lab somewhere?”

Zhenya feels a wave of revulsion shudder through him. “No. Never. Die before I let happen.”

“Yeah,” Marc-Andre says, jaw set, his normally impish expression serious and set like iron. “But it might… change things. Force the hands of organizations like the U.N. Create a global movement towards conservation. Wake people up.”

They’re all silent for a moment. They all have the images to draw on, the dire statistics and the horrifying data that keep them up at night. But Sid didn’t ask to be an ambassador for his species. The decision has to be his.

***

Kris’s in-laws own a sailboat. She sails best with a crew of three, so Zhenya, Marc-Andre, and Vero start taking her out on shakedown voyages into the Bay of Fundy while Kris stays behind with Cath, whose due date is approaching rapidly. 

They figure the boat’s the best way to find Sid once Magda reaches her feeding grounds. Her top speed is about eight knots, or fifteen miles per hour. Just fast enough to catch up with Magda if she isn’t moving at her full traveling speed.

They take a longer trip all the way around the southern end of Nova Scotia, to Halifax. The open water of the Atlantic is rough, nothing like the tropics. But they work together well, and start making plans for the long sail up the coast followed by the more than sixteen hour crossing to Newfoundland. 

They spend late nights with charts all over the table, laptops spilling pools of blue light. Every night, Zhenya checks the data to watch Sid’s progress. 

Closer and closer.

***

Zhenya nearly loses his mind when Magda lingers near Cape Cod. Then, before he knows it, the tags ping within a day’s sail of Cape Sable Island, right off the southern tip of Nova Scotia. He wants to take the boat out right away to chase them, but he knows it’s foolishness, putting them all at risk.

But they start packing, and prepare to follow, up past Cape Breton and into the Gulf of St. Lawrence.

***

Two days before they set sail, Cath delivers a baby girl. She and Kris name her Victoria. Zhenya goes with Marc-Andre and his family to visit, bringing along a little stuffed whale, because, why not.

Cath is exhausted but radiant, and Zhenya almost can’t look at Kris’s face as he watches his son kiss his new little sister’s downy head.

“I can’t help but feel that it’s...not good luck, exactly,” Cath says, when Zhenya is given the chance to hold Victoria. She’s so tiny and so light in his arms. “But just… it’s significant somehow. Her coming now.”

“Life,” Zhenya says, staring down as the baby blinks hazy blue eyes and yawns a miniature, perfect yawn. “New things starting.”

Cath smiles at him. “Exactly.”

Zhenya takes a dozen pictures for Sid.

***

The Atlantic feels like it wants to fight them,  either to cast them right out of its storm-shattered currents again or drag them down in pieces. But Vero and Marc-Andre have been raised on the water, and Zhenya’s learned fast. Magda’s slowing, moving less linearly each day. She’s stopping to feed in the rich waters, replenishing the weight she lost nursing Pasha in the Caribbean.  

***

The day they come within a mile of the last satellite ping, the sky is gray but calm. Zhenya stays topside, binoculars trained on the horizon, watching for spouts. They put a speaker into the water, playing a looped tape of Zhenya’s voice. When they made the recording, Zhenya was too embarrassed to speak in English, so it’s in Russian. He talks to Sid, telling him how much he misses him, how the months without him dragged.

And then they wait.

***

There’s a thud on the hull. Splashing at the waterline. Zhenya’s binoculars clatter to the deck, he lurches for the rail, and Marc-Andre has to haul on the back of his jacket so that he doesn’t slip and go overboard.

Sid.

There he is, reaching his hands out so Zhenya and Marc-Andre can haul him up. There’s ice-cold water streaming off him but Zhenya kneels on the deck and wraps him in his arms anyway, buries his face in Sid’s neck, can’t stop the hot tears coursing down his face.

Until this very moment, a small, deep part of him had been certain that they’d never find him.

Sid’s making a low keening sound deep in his chest, and his hands are clutching at Zhenya’s jacket like he’s afraid he’s going to disappear. They move to the back of Zhenya’s head, to his waist, back to clutching at his jacket. He wrenches loose, but it’s only so he can take Zhenya’s face in his hands and kiss him, little biting kisses all over his face, followed by a deep press of his lips to Zhenya’s.

“Sid,” Zhenya says brokenly. Sid murmurs back the sound he makes for Zhenya’s name. His eyes are dark and wild. He leans forward and sets his teeth to the base of Zhenya’s throat, holding him in place.

When he pulls back there’s blood on his lips. His sharp canines scraped Zhenya’s skin.

Sorry sorry sorry, he signs wildly, but Zhenya shakes his head. He leans forward, and kisses Sid in the same place, right above the shine of his gold chain. He bites down too, and Sid jerks against him.

Mine yes mine Sid declares more than asks. Mine.

Yes, Zhenya says, and rests his forehead against Sid’s. Yes.

[pamphletstoinspire]

Saint Columban - Feast Day: November 23rd - Ordinary Time

He preached the word of Christ fearlessly and was not afraid of the anger of kings. It is the kind of Christian courage we should have.

***

Columban was a native of Leinster, and seems to have been of a respectable family. Of the precise date of his birth we are not informed. According to some accounts it was about 559, but according to others it was several years earlier. He received a good classical education, and resolved early to embrace an ascetic life. But the good looks and winning ways of the Irish girls were a snare to him. He tried to forget their bright eyes by toiling (desudavit) at grammar, rhetoric, and geometry, but found that at least syntax and the problems of Euclid were a less attractive study than pretty faces, and that the dry rules of rhetoric failed altogether before the winsome prattle of lighthearted maidens. He consulted an old woman who lived as a recluse. She warned him that if he wished to maintain his purpose of self-conquest he must fly to a region where girls are less beautiful and seductive than Ireland. "Save thyself, young man, and fly!" His resolution was formed; he decided on going away.

His mother attempted to deter him, prostrating herself on the threshold of the door; he stepped over her, left the province of Leinster, and placed himself under the tuition of the venerable Sinell, son of Oenach, abbot of Cluaininis in Lough Erne. Sinell made Columban compose a commentary on the Psalms whilst under his tuition. After awhile, Columban went to Bangor, County Down, Northern Ireland (not the one in Wales), where he remained under the abbot Congall. But this first apprenticeship in the holy war was not enough. The adventurous temper of his race, the passion for pilgrimage and preaching, drew him beyond the seas. He heard incessantly the voice which had spoken to Abraham echoing in his ears, "Go out of thine own country, and from thy father's house, into a land that I shall show thee." The abbot in vain attempted to retain him. Columban, then thirty, left Bangor with twelve other monks, crossed Great Britain, and reached Gaul. He found the Catholic faith in existence there, but Christian virtue and ecclesiastical discipline ignored or outraged -- thanks to the fury of the wars and the negligence of the bishops. He devoted himself during several years to traversing the country, preaching the Gospel, and especially giving an example to all of the humility and charity which he taught. His little community accompanied him. If one of the members lapsed into vice, all the rest simultaneously, burning with charity, fell on him, and beat him back into the paths of virtue. Not a harsh word was uttered by one of them; they had all things in common.

Arriving, in the course of his apostolic wanderings, in Burgundy, he was received there by King Gontram, of all the grandsons of Clovis the one whose life appears to have been least blamable, and who had most sympathy with the monks. His eloquence delighted the king and his lords. Fearing that he would leave them, Gontram offered him the ancient Roman castle of Annegray, now in the commune of Faucogney (Haute Saone). He lived there the simplest life with his companions, on the bark of trees, the wild herbs, the bilberries in the firwoods, and whatever the neighbors would give, out of charity. Often he separated himself from his companions to plunge alone into the forest. There, in his long and close communion with bare and savage nature, every living creature obeyed his voice. The birds came to receive his caresses, and the squirrels descended from the tree-tops to hide themselves in the folds of his cowl. He expelled a bear from the cavern which became his cell; he took from another bear a dead stag, whose skin he used for shoes for the brethren. One day, while he wandered in the depths of the wood, bearing a volume of Holy Scripture on his shoulder, and meditating whether the ferocity o beasts was not better than the rage of men, he saw a dozen wolves surround him. He remained motionless, repeating the words, "Deus in adjutorium." The wolves smelt his garments, and passed on their way without molesting him. He pursued his [way], and a few steps further on heard the voices of a band of Swabian robbers who wasted the country. He did not see them; but he thanked God for having preserved him from the maw of the wolf and the less merciful hand of man.

At the end of some years the increasing number of his disciples obliged him to seek another residence, and by the help of Agnoald, a minister of the Frank king, whose wife was a Burgundian of high family, he obtained from Gontram the site of another strong castle, named Luxeuil, where there had been Roman baths, magnificently ornamented. On the ruins of this seat of luxury the monks founded their ascetic colonists, these eschewing water, planted themselves in the ancient baths.

Luxeuil was situated on the confines of Austrasia and Burgundy, at the foot of the Vosges. Disciples collected abundantly round the Irish colonizer. He could soon count several hundreds of them in the three monasteries which he had built in succession, and which he himself governed. The noble Franks and Burgundians, overawed by the sight of these great creations of work and prayer, brought their sons to him, lavished gifts upon him, and often came to ask him to cut their long hair, the sign of nobility and freedom, and admit them into the ranks of his army. Labor and prayer attained here, under the strong arm of Columban, to proportions up to that time unheard of. The multitude became so great that he could organize that perpetual service, called "Laus perennis" which already existed at Agaunum, on the other side of the Jura and Lake Leman, where, night and day, the voices of monks, "unwearied as those of angels," arose to celebrate the praises of God in unending song.

Rich and poor were equally bound to agricultural labor. The toil of the hands was the sovereign receipt for spiritual languor and bodily sickness. When he issued on one occasion from his cave in the depths of the forest, and came to Luxeuil, he found a large number of monks in bed with influenza colds. He made them get up and go to the barn and thrash out wheat. The violent exercise opened their pores and expelled the fever. A monk named Theudegisl cut his thumb whilst reaping, and wanted to knock off work. Columban removed the blood with a little saliva, convinced himself that the wound was not serious, and made the man finish the work.

An article of his rule ordained that the monk should go to rest so fatigued that he would be ready to fall asleep on his way to bed, and should rise before he had slept off his weariness. It was at the cost of this excessive and perpetual labor that the wilderness which had spread over the ruins of Roman civilization was restored to cultivation and life.

Twenty years passed thus, during which the reputation of Columban increased and extended afar. But his influence was not undisputed. He displeased one portion of the Gallo-Frank clergy by the intemperate zeal with which he attempted, in his epistles, to remind the bishops of their duties, ostensibly by his obstinate adherence to Celtic peculiarities of tonsure and costume, and of the observance of Easter.

At a period when the most trifling ecclesiastical peculiarities were ranked as heresies of magnitude, such a divergence from established custom could not fail to serve as the opportunity for his enemies, and to weaken and embarrass his success. The details of his struggle with the bishops of Gaul remain unknown; but the resolution he displayed may be understood by some passages of his letters to the council which met to examine his conduct with respect to the observance of Easter. This was the council, apparently, held at Sens in 601, attended by Betharius, bishop of Chartres. The council as summoned in consequence of letters written by Pope Gregory the Great to Brunehild, to Virgilius of Arles, and others, to urge the extirpation of simony. S. Columban was invited to it to explain his conduct, and abandon his eccentricities. He did not attend, but he wrote to the council a letter, in which he requested the bishops not only to consider the question of Easter, but also the canonical observances which they themselves were guilty of neglecting. "I am not the author of this difference; I have come into these parts a poor stranger, for the cause of the Savior Christ; I ask of your holinesses but a single favor, that you will permit me to live in silence in the depths of these forests, near the bones of seventeen brethren whom I have already seen die. I will pray of you with those who remain with me, as I have done these twelve years...If God guides you to expel me from the desert which I have sought, I will say with Jonah, 'Take me up and cast me forth into the sea; so shall the sea be calm.' But before you throw me overboard, it is your duty to follow the example of sailors, and try first to reach the land; perhaps it may not be an excess of presumption if I suggest that many men follow the broad way, and that it is better to encourage those who follow the narrow way that leads to life than to throw stumbling blocks in their path."

Whatever was the result of this letter, or the decision of the council, S. Columban persevered in his paschal computation, and still annoyed the Gallican clergy by so doing. For the purpose of being protected from their attacks he had recourse to the then Pope, whether Sabinian or Boniface the third or fourth is uncertain, and sent him copies of his letters to Pope Gregory on the subject of Easter. He requested him to be allowed to follow the tradition of his forefathers, and said that he had no wish to disturb others in the observance of their customs.

A much more severe persecution awaited him, excited against him by the wicked queen-dowager Brunehild, the widow of Sigebert of Austrasia, and mother of Childebert, who became king of Burgundy and died in 596. Childebert left two sons, Theodebert, king of Austrasia, and Theodoric or Thierry, king of Burgundy, who succeeded him under the tutelage of their grandmother. Brunehild lived with Theodebert, until, at the request of the nobles of Austrasia, he banished her. Then she fled to Thierry, by whom she was kindly received. Gregory of Tours has praised the beauty, good manners, prudence, and affability of Brunehild, and Gregory the Great congratulated the Franks on having so good a queen. But Brunehild, in her thirst for rule, endeavored to divert her grandsons from political interests by leading them into the pursuit of sensual pleasures. From fear of having a rival in power and honor near the throne of Thierry, she opposed with all her might every attempt to replace the concubines she had given him by a legitimate queen, and when, finally, he determined on espousing a Visigothic princess, Brunehild, though herself the daughter of a Visigothic king, succeeded in disgusting her grandson with his bride, and made him repudiate her at the end of a year.

S. Desiderius, bishop of Vienne, who had advised the king to marry, was murdered by the ruffians whom Brunehild had laid in wait for him.

However, the young Thierry had religious instincts. He was rejoiced to possess in his kingdom so holy a man as Columban. He went often to visit him. Irish zeal took advantage of this to reprove him for his disorderly life, and to seek a lawful spouse, that the king might have a successor on his throne from an honorable queen, and not from a concubine. The young king promised amendment, but Brunehild easily turned him away from these good intentions. Columban having gone to visit her at Bourcheresse, she presented him the four sons of Thierry by his concubines. "What would these children with me?" he asked. "They are the sons of the king," answered the queen, "strengthen them with thy blessing." "No!" answered the abbot, "they shall not reign, for they are of bad origin." From that moment Brunehild swore war to the death against him. She despatched messengers with orders not to allow the monks to quit their monastery, and an injunction that others were not to give them hospitality, or offer them gifts. Columban went to Epoisses to see the king and appeal against this command. Thierry promised to remove the ban, and Columban returned to Luxeuil.

Theodoric continued his disorderly life, and Columban wrote him a severe letter, threatening to separate himself from communion with the king unless he set a better moral example. This highly incensed Thierry and Brunehild, and the bishops who were angry at the paschal usages of the saint fanned their wrath. Thierry went to Luxeuil, and reproached Columban for refusing to allow the queen-dowager to cross the threshold of the monastery. The abbot replied that he must defend the rule of his monastery. He threatened the king with divine vengeance if he interfered with him, and Thierry, as superstitious as he was licentious, was frightened and withdrew. Shortly after, Columban was taken to Besancon, and was required to remain there til he learned the king's pleasure. Columban, finding means of escape, returned to Luxeuil. Brunehild and Thierry, apprized of his return, sent soldiers to remove him. And this, his final departure, took place in the twentieth year from his arrival in the Vosges, A.D. 610. The king gave orders that the saint and the Irish monks who were banished with him should be sent back to their own land.

They were conducted across France to Nantes, where they were placed on board a vessel destined for Ireland. At the mouth of the river the ship encountered the bore, which carried it over the banks and left it astrand. The superstitious sailors attributed this misfortune to the presence of the monks in their vessel, and refused to put to sea with them as passengers. Columban and his disciples were therefore left behind, and they returned to Nantes, whence the abbot addressed a letter to his monks at Luxeuil, bidding them obey Attalus, the abbot appointed in his place, and should difficulties arise on account of the paschal question, to leave their monastery and come to him rather than accept the Roman computation. Columban then took refuge with Clothair II, son of Chilperic, king of Soissons and Neustria. This son of Fredegund, faithful to his mother's hatred for Brunehild and her family, gave a cordial reception to the victim of his enemy, and at his request provided him with an escort to Theodebert, king of Austrasia, through whose states he desired to pass on his way to Italy. On his road the Frank chiefs brought their children to receive his benediction. Theodebert, now at war with his brother Thierry, received Columban with great cordiality, and endeavored to persuade him to settle under his protection. But the saint would not be detained. He had spent sixty years of labor in the vain attempt to reform kings and nations who called themselves Christians, and now he resolved on turning to a new field of labor -- mission-work among the heathen. He accordingly embarked on the Rhine below Mainz, and ascending the Rhine and Lammat to the Lake of Zurich, remained for a while at Tuggen.

A strange tale is told of a huge vat of beer, offered to the God Woden, which burst at the mere breath of Columban. S. Gall, his companion, set the temples at Tuggen on fire, and threw the idols into the lake. The monks were compelled to fly; and Columban left the pagans of that district with a most unapostolic malediciton, devoting their whole race to temporal misery and eternal perdition. They retreated to Arbon, on the Lake of Constance; there they heard of a ruined Roman city at the head of the lake, named Brigantium (Bregentz). At Bregentz Columban found a ruined church dedicated to S. Aurelia, which he rebuilt. But the chief objects of worship in the re-paganized land were three statues of gilded brass. S. Gall broke the idols and threw them into the water....The apostles found the Suevi and Allemanns worshippers of Woden, and stubborn in their opposition to the Gospel.

During his sojourn at Bregentz, Columban went to see King Theodebert, who was still at war with his brother the king of Burgundy. Knowing by his visit to Thierry that the power of the latter was sufficient to overwhelm the Austrasian kingdom, he counselled Theodebert to abandon the unequal contest and take refuge in the cloister. His advice provoked an outburst of laughter. "Such a hating is unheard of," said the courtiers, "that Frank king should become a monk of his own free will." "Well," said the saint, "if he will not be a monk voluntarily, he will be made one by force." So saying he returned to Bregentz. The battle of Tolbiac ruined the hopes of Theodebert, who was forced to assume the monastic habit, and was shortly after put to death.

The whole of Austrasia had fallen by the defeat and death of Theodebert into the hands of Brunehild and Thierry, and the banks of the Upper Rhine, where their victim had found a refuge, had passed under their sway. It was no longer safe for Columban to remain there, and accompanied by a single disciple, Attalus, he crossed the Alps and sought refuge with Agilulf, king of the Lombards.

He arrived at Milan in 612, after having spent but one year at Bregentz. While at Milan, Columban wrote against the Arian heresy with which the Lombards were infected. The schism of the Three Chapters was still distracting the North of Italy, although the chapters had been condemned by the Council of Constantinople in 553. The bishops of Istria and Africa refused to acknowledge this condemnation, because they thought it threw discredit on the Council of Chalcedon. The Lombards sided with the Istrian prelates, and were therefore involved in their schism. Gregory the Great wisely let the matter drop -- it was a tempest about trifle; but Boniface IV, was not disposed to allow the question to sleep and expire. He stirred it up again, and Agilulf and his queen, Theodelinda, engaged Columban to write to the Pope in defense of the Three Chapters. Evidently little acquainted in his own person with the point at issue, Columban rushed into the controversy with his usual impetuosity. Whilst appealing in a series of extravagant and obscure apostrophes, to the indulgence of the Pope for "a foolish Scot," charged to write on account of a Lombard, a king of the Gentiles, he acquaints the Pontiff with the imputations brought against him and the chair of S. Peter, as fautors of heresy, and urges him to prove his orthodoxy by excommunicating his detractors. Pope Vigilius, he says, prevaricated; he was the cause of the whole scandal.

Rome he acknowledges as the head of all churches, saving only the prerogatives of Jerusalem. He warns the Pope not by his perversity to lose his high privileges and dignity. For power was his only so long as exercised aright -- the keys were only his to lock and unlock justly. He tells Boniface that the Irish were orthodox believers, constantly adhering to the faith and apostolic tradition, which they had received from their forefathers, and that they never had among them heretics, Jews, or schismatics. "I confess that I lament over the bad reputation of the chair of S. Peter in this country. I speak to you not as a stranger, but as a disciple, as a friend, as a servant. I speak freely to our masters, to the pilots of the vessel of the Church, and I say to them, Watch! and despise not the humble advice of the stranger....Pardon me if swimming among the rocks, I have said words offensive to pious ears. The native liberty of my race has given me this boldness. With us it is not the person, it is the right, which prevails. The love of evangelical peace makes me say everything. We are bound to the chair of S. Peter; for, however great and glorious Rome may be, it is this chair which makes her great and glorious among us."

Agilulf bestowed on Columban the land of Bobbio, among the Apennines, between Genoa and Milan. Columban founded there a monastery. Despite his age, he shared in the builder's labor, and bent his old shoulders under beams of firwood, which he transported from the mountain slopes on which they were felled to the spot where his abbey rose. Bobbio was his last stage. Thierry died, Clothair II, who tortured to death the aged queen, and executed her two eldest grandsons, took his throne. Clothair, on becoming sole king of Austrasia, Burgundy, and Neustria, sent Eustace, abbot of Luxeuil, to Bobbio, to recall Columban to France. But the old abbot refused the call; he answered it in a letter full of advice.

He was now very aged. On the opposite bank of the Trebbia to his abbey of Bobbio, he had found a cavern in a rock. This he transformed into a chapel dedicated to the Blessed Virgin. There he passed the remainder of his days in prayer, visiting his monastery only on Sundays and festivals, and there he died on November 21, 615, when over seventy-two years old. He was buried at Bobbio, and many miracles it is asserted, were performed at his tomb.

From The Lives of the Saints by the Rev. S. Baring-Gould, M.A., published in 1914 in Edinburgh.

[shannaraisles]

Set In Darkness

Chapter: 28 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M Warnings: Canon-typical threat and violence Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

Expectations

"Are you busy, my dear?"

Rory looked up at the beautifully modulated tone. Vivienne De Fer, her least favorite character from the game, stood in the doorway of her clinic, tall and imposing, and exquisitely polite. Face to face, the First Enchanter of Montsimmard was intimidating, but not in the way she had expected. Instead of the coldness she had always assigned to her, Vivienne's eyes were warm and inviting, disguising her political ambitions and impressive magical power behind a manner that sought to put everyone at their ease. It was actually more worrying to think she might be taken in by it. But, as she'd told Evy on numerous occasions, merely disliking a person was not a good enough reason to deny them her time.

Tucking her notes back into the chest and locking it, she offered the striking woman a smile. "Nothing that can't wait, Madame," she assured the mage, gesturing for her to take a seat. "How may I help you?"

"I should like to consult you on a personal matter," Vivienne said, stepping inside but only far enough to be heard without projecting her voice to the village at large. There was a certain amount of distaste as the woman noted the sound of vomiting from the partitioned off ward. "Would it be possible to find time in your hectic schedule to visit with me in the Chantry? The matter is ... somewhat sensitive."

Rory raised her brows. "I can assure you, Madame, no one here would share anything you choose to speak of," she said, not prepared to give anyone preferential treatment. Even Kaaras had to come to the clinic for his daily dose of massage therapy on the marked hand when he was in Haven. "As you can hear, we have patients, and I cannot in good conscience leave the clinic when I may be needed at any moment."

"Your dedication does you credit, my dear," Vivienne responded, seemingly honest in her praise. She reviewed the situation for a moment. "Would you object to a small spell? Just to be certain that no one hears what is said between us."

Magic. She'd managed to avoid direct contact with magic thus far, but Rory knew that couldn't last. For all her faults, Vivienne was more than competent, and permanently disabling a trusted healer would not be a shrewd political move. Still, best to be sure ...

"May I ask the nature of the spell?" she queried, wondering why her syntax had raised itself several social levels to match that of the mage.

Vivienne smiled, apparently pleased with the question. "It is what is commonly known as a muffle, my dear, though it is more accurate to call it a block," she explained in a calm tone. "Once set, anything we two say within this small space will remain ours alone. You will still hear the comings and goings outside, I assure you."

"And is the spell cast on us, or on the room?" Rory asked searchingly. She might be sympathetic to the mages, but that didn't mean she wasn't rightly wary of magic itself.

"What an inquiring mind you have," the mage commented, but again, she seemed pleased to be asked. "A healthy respect for magic is rare in these times, even among mages. The spell is cast upon the room, not the inhabitants, and I shall naturally remove it when we are done."

"Thank you, Madame." Rory hoped she didn't look too relieved by that answer; offending Vivienne was an easy way to make a powerful enemy. "I have no objection."

Vivienne inclined her head in acceptance of that permission, her eyes going distant as she gathered her energies to cast. A strangely greasy quality settled over the room, muffling every sound that reached Rory's perception, even the sound of her own heartbeat. Yet, as thickly as the sensation settled, it seemed to thin, flowing outward to envelop the room itself. The sounds of the ward and the village outside this little space normalized into their usual faint intrusion as Vivienne's expression clear.

"It is done," she declared, her voice sounding just faintly distorted, like a radio that wasn't quite tuned correctly. "Now then, my dear, to work." She moved gracefully to take a seat with Rory at the desk. "I have need of your healing knowledge to help me end a miserable life."

To say Rory was shocked was an understatement. Evening knowing what she did of Vivienne's personal quest, it was disquieting to note how very matter-of-fact the woman was about it. "Madame, I am a healer," she felt the need to point out. "Death is not my first port of call."

"Yet when nothing else can be done and the life that remains will be agony, death is your gift to give," Vivienne countered smoothly.

"Are you certain you have reached that point?" Rory asked with an inquisitive frown. "Could you give me the details before asking me to help you kill someone, at least?"

To her everlasting surprise, the First Enchanter's eyes filled with tears. "Everything has been attempted," she confessed in a bleak tone of despair. "Exquisite magics now only cause pain; those herbs and potions known for their efficacy have no effect. I fear my own efforts have done nothing but lengthen his suffering. Oh, my dear, I cannot bear to see him brought so low!"

Bloody hell, she really does love him. What did she do to make his death linger for so long? But Rory didn't ask. Instead, she drew her chair closer to Vivienne's, laying her hand over the woman's trembling fingers. "Madame ... try to be calm," she urged gently. "I know it is difficult, but I need to know. There might be something we could try yet."

Vivienne had never struck her as the sort to accept comfort offered, but the mage clung to her hand, gripping tightly as she drew in slow breaths to calm herself. Not one tear fell, but they remained there, behind her eyes. This was a raw, vulnerable side to the woman Rory could not have predicted. In the game, it had always seemed as though Vivienne was only really interested in the power and influence her liaison with Duke Bastien offered her, yet here and now there was no denying the very real grief she felt at the loss of the man himself.

"It began several years ago," Vivienne told her, almost hesitantly. "He was taken unexpectedly with the falling sickness. He seemed to recover, though it left him with a weakness in his right side. That might have been simple to overcome, but a few months later, he suffered a fit of apoplexy. His speech became slurred, and for several days, he was unable to rise from his bed.The apoplexy had never left him - since then, he has suffered many such fits, and each time his recovery is slower than the last. We have consulted mages, healers, even heathens, yet nothing has worked to reverse the damage done. Then, last month, he was struck down by a fit that has left prostrate, barely able to move. I am at my wit's end, Healer. All there is left is to give him an end with some dignity."

As she spoke, Rory struggled to properly understand the true diagnosis. Apoplexy is what I think they used to call epilepsy, so he has uncontrolled epilepsy, brought on by ... What the hell is falling sickness? She said something about it leaving him weak on his right side, so ... that's a stroke. Fuck it, I don't know anything about neurological ailments long-term. But she did remember some small details from the game that might help.

"There is a potion that might save him," she said carefully. "But, equally, it might kill him. I've never seen the recipe myself, but I do know it requires heating by a magical flame and the addition of a snowy wyvern's heart at the last stage of preparation. I'm afraid that's all I know, but I've heard from healers I trust that it's one of the most powerful rejuvenation potions ever to be devised."

"That ... does sound familiar," Vivienne mused in a thoughtful tone. "A kill or cure, certainly. I do believe I may have seen this recipe of yours, in an old Tevinter medical text in the Montsimmard library. If I could find it, would you be willing to assist me in creating this potion?"

Rory drew in a slow breath as she considered this, but honestly, she already knew her answer. "Madame, if there is even a chance of saving your friend, then I will do whatever I can to help," she promised softly. "But please ... don't let your hope rise too high. He may be too weak for the potion to do anything more than stop his heart."

"Yet even that would be a release from the prison his body has made for him," Vivienne answered unhappily. "Thank you, my dear. Health or death is a far better choice than a full guarantee of death."

"I'm sorry I can't do more," Rory murmured regretfully.

"Nonsense, my dear," the First Enchanter said in a brisk tone. "You did not waste my time as others have done, suggesting everything that has already been tried, nor did you insist upon knowing exactly who I speak of. Such confidence in myself and knowledge of your own art is very much appreciated." She glanced up, straightening her back. "But I have kept you too long from your duties. Forgive me, darling. I shall not trespass further upon your precious time."

With a snap of the mage's fingers, Rory felt the odd distortion in the air around them cease, recognizing the release of the spell that had guaranteed Vivienne's privacy. She rose with the elegant mage, wiping her hand over her own hip.

"I hope I've been of some help, at least," she offered, walking the woman to the door.

"On the contrary, my dear, you have given me new purpose," Vivienne assured her, stepping out into the wintry village. "This young Inquisition is lucky to have a healer who cares more for the well-being of her people than protecting trade secrets."

"I can think of at least one healer who would call me an idiot for it," Rory replied in amusement, the ugly specter of Granthis rising in her mind. He would be horrified at her giving up even vague knowledge of an extremely rare potion to a non-healer, she was sure.

"Better an effective idiot than a foolish hoarder," was Vivienne's comment on that. "Do try not to work too hard, my dear. The commander will not like it."

That's the Vivienne I was expecting - smug and condescending, and suggesting she knows more about Cullen than I do. But after that strangely privileged glimpse of the woman behind the imposing mask, Rory found the persona made her smile rather than frown. She watched the First Enchanter walk away, turning back to the clinic herself. It was about time Evy got a break from ward duties, anyway.

A few hours later, Rory found herself giving very serious thought to her current need for at least one more pair of hands for this little ward of hers. A minor bout of something very like 'flu had hit Haven - all six of the beds were occupied by those hit hardest. Keeping on top of regular obs, cleaning the bedpans and sick bowls, changing the sheets, and making sure the fevers weren't running out of control twenty-four hours a day was really too much for just two people to handle; on top of that, they still had visitors to the clinic with minor injury and other complaints, not to mention the various dressing that had to be checked daily. Ideally, she needed a nursing staff specifically for the clinic ward ... and that probably meant lay sisters from the Chantry. As much as she disliked the idea of letting Mother Giselle's eyes and ears into her clinic, the health of her in-patients required her to swallow her pride and ask for help, preferably before Evy wilted away in front of her. No, there was nothing for it; she had to have help. Tomorrow, she'd have to approach Giselle and ask.

It was a shame she couldn't take Kaaras along with her, really. The Qunari clearly intimidated the woman, whether he meant to or not, but he was leaving for the Storm Coast at dawn, taking Sera, Solas, and Cassandra with him. No decision had yet been reached on whether to approach the mages or the templars for help with the Breach, but Rory had planted the idea of scouting Redcliffe village when he was looking for Blackwall. Someone else with secrets. She had faith that Kaaras would not simply stand back and give the mages up to Alexius once he knew what was going on. And, of course, that would bring Dorian to Haven. Of all the companions, he was the one she was most looking forward to meeting. Who knew if he'd even like her, but she hoped he would. She needed someone she could confide in, and Dorian, with his awareness of alternative magics, was the one least likely to instantly point the finger of blame if she let a little too much slip.

"You're looking a wee bit exhausted there, Ror," Rylen's voice broke into her thoughts. "Isn't even full night yet."

She looked up, smiling to see her friend walking into the clinic with a steaming bowl of stew in one hand and a hunk of bread in the other. "Is that for me?"

"Aye, commander's orders," he told her. "You missed dinner again."

"Too much to do," was her only excuse, her stomach rumbling as she took the meal from his hands. She couldn't keep the smile on her face from softening at the knowledge that Cullen had found the time to order someone to make sure she ate. Soppy kitten that he is.

"You need more hands," Rylen pointed out, taking a seat beside her as she ate. "Evy's dead on her feet, and you're not much better."

"I'll ask tomorrow," she promised through a mouth of bread and meat. "Thank you for looking after her."

"She's my wee bonny," he said easily. The fondness in his voice spoke volumes of how he felt about Evelyn Trevelyan. "Never thought to have someone so sweet to call mine. Taking care of her's easy as breathing. You're the one we're worrying over."

"We?" Rory asked in a bemused tone.

"Aye, we," he agreed. "Not just the commander, either. You've many watching you spread yourself too thin, Ror. We don't like it."

"It won't last forever," she told him in a confident tone. "The ward will be empty again by the end of the week."

"And you'll do the same again next time there's sickness," her friend predicted sternly. "Don't give me that guff. You're terrible at looking to yourself, and it shows."

"I prefer to keep busy," she tried to argue, but he was right. She felt like Bilbo Baggins - like butter scraped over too much bread.

"Keeping busy'll kill you," Rylen informed her, pulling no punches. "And that'll kill Cullen. He needs you, Rory. And we need him."

She sighed softly, knowing he was right there, too. The Inquisition needed Cullen, and he did seem to need her. "Tomorrow," she promised once more. "I'll arrange for help tomorrow."

Rylen eyed her for a long moment. "Mind you do," he said at last, "or I'll do it for you. I'm not having my best girls run down by duty. I've seen that happen too many times."

His words stayed with her long after he left, haunting her mind as she settled her patients and curled up on her hard bedroll to snatch a little sleep before they needed her again. The implication almost frightened her. Somehow, she had become integral to the Inquisition. Just what was that going to do to the story? Only ... it wasn't a story, not any more. It was real. There was no checkpoint, no opportunity to reload and try again. She couldn't keep this pace of work up forever, and everyone knew it. It was time to truly accept her place here, and do what she needed to do to be the best she could possibly be. Preferably before someone else did it for her.

[lorainelaneyblog]

‘I am God and I do want to talk to you on tumblr. Your blog is the most followed stuff in all of history, Loraine, and that is why there is a stunned silence when you are still living here among the Ottawans, after saying you would always stay here over Vancouver, most men assumed you were joshing because you were trying to meet them as boyfriends, but really, it was business, and business only that was on your mind, truly, and I say this unequivocally, Loraine has not had any desire for a boyfriend since man landed on the moon, they seduce her, of course, but she is good for it, but she hates it.’

‘Funny, God. Funny, funny, funny.’

‘Where did I go wrong?’

‘Too many “buts.”’

‘Funny, Loraine, funny, funny, funny. Loraine Laney is looking for one person in this world and it is 50 Cent, 50 Cent is looking for one person in this world, and it is Loraine Laney. Chelsea Handler, who wants her real name used in this instance, says that “50 Cent and Loraine Laney are too shy to meet, and it is sad, because I’ve never seen two such dorks who were invested in each other.’

‘Her syntax is flawed, often,’ says 50 Cent, Stephen Colbert, and Jon Stewart. ‘She makes a fortune off them shoes,’ says 50 Cent. ‘She’s grossly insulting, and takes people out of the closet like Barbara Walters. Who was your favorite daytime host, Loraine, people want to know?’

Mumbles, 'Oprah Winfrey.’

Everyone laughs, says God, they do, because she was hiding inside a closet too, of bisexuality, which Stedman thought was “just too much,” and of poly, which he now admits, ‘this book has really, really, really, got around Loraine, and some people think you might be the new Karl Marx with that book, seriously.’

God says, ‘publish that. It is Sunday. And you have twenty dollars and a hundred and thirty in the bank to cover your phone in case you get work, somehow, from somewhere, you were just thinking of the streets again, Loraine, you were, because Rogers’ notice arrived last month and you owe, and, you were stupid enough to think they would forgive you several payments because of channel blocking, but, on whatever level as a trusting idiot, you believe some day, some how, it’ll rain, it’ll rain, it’ll rain, it’s rain. And, make no mistake, Loraine, you are a trusting fuck head, that is what you are, so this is what I would do with your last twenty dollars, go buy some ice cream, get whatever you want, because, you wouldn’t believe this, but that money scene, it is just acting, it’s not even real money,’ says 50 Cent. ‘Kidding, of course, you set aside a certain amount of money, and it is considered very bad form to pick off the floor, so whatever is left there is, goes to, the cause.’

‘Why did they hide the cause?’

‘It was just a fundraiser for hos, basically, because someone got it in their head to, kidding, Loraine, it’s a club, and they fund raise to make improvements, getting a lot of great dancers and luring you down there, why are you exhausted with my game playing? You know it’s for charity, so you just spill, as it were, as it were, are you upset with me, Loraine, because you seem stressed.’

‘Just here with a sore back.’

‘My beds are nice, I change them often as better things come along, and I’m so disgustingly rich that you are disgusted, but I do want to take care of you, I do, I do, I do.’

‘You don’t look too invested in anyone.’

‘I hold it all inside.’

‘Are you serious with this?’

‘Kidding, Loraine. What have you cooked lately, stop chewing your cud, why do you always have food in your mouth?’

‘Next.’

‘Funny, oh, funny, Loraine, show biz, I like it.’

‘She’s tired, and this is getting stupid. Can we summarize the fundraiser, please, 50 Cent?’

‘AIDS, kidding, renovations, kidding, she’s bored, and her pot cookies do not measure up to the speed she so enjoys. How was [ ], when you went by?’

‘I didn’t go by.’

‘Oh, just straight home to your two dollar and five cents a can Grolsch right now, who are rolling in dough because of your gay, erstwhile, plugs. We want you, but, quite honestly, everyone, and I mean everyone, and I mean everyone, says you are too scared, yes, they do, yes, the do, yes, they do. And I think that you know better, but you’re not saying because then you’ll look slutty, you actually, Loraine Laney, believe you are good for this shit, don’t you? With God as my witness.’

‘She is tired of being vetted, 50 Cent.’

‘So you step in on her again, yes, you do, yes, you do.’

‘And I will continue to do so, 50 Cent, because you are lazy, yes, you are--’

‘Oh, no.’

‘Kidding,’ God says, ‘kidding, kidding, kidding, kidding, kidding, Loraine is quite prepared to live up to her promises, and let’s leave it at that please, because this is getting uncomfortably prurient for Loraine, who needs to sit back, finish her pot cookie, and wonder why she is still being vetted, and instead of happily stowed away in 50 Cent’s wifely chambers. 50 Cent has created the house for the den of iniquity, knowing the woman would be his, and he was right, and this will bother him, Loraine, that you have seen the inside of his house, and that you, little girl, little woman, as he already thinks of you, beast as he is conceived by you--.’

‘I would go that far.’

‘--so then, why are you battling him by subscribing to his Facebook as I advised, which you undertook immediately?’

‘Wha--?’

‘Exactly, 50 Cent, she’s vetted, so leave her. She needs to putter and find food because it’s freezer time, love to all though, and she loves you on video.’

‘Thank you, Loraine, for not being as dirty as we are, you rise above us, you always do, get your beer, and enjoy Sunday night with no TV, Netflix if you can stand it. No speed, but sleepy time.’

‘Ymm.’

‘Oh, squeaks and bubbles, and nothing hard, so we will leave you for now, baby.’

‘Okay.’

‘She does care. She wanted more Codeine. A tiny bottle and already she wants more. We won’t come for you, then, if you are scared.’

‘Why do you think I am scared?’

‘Just do.’

‘Oh.’

‘Go sit back, you’re dead, you’re floating around, I can tell, eat the rest and drink a beer and then pass out, do it, it’ll be great for tomorrow when we come for you, yes, it will, yes, it will, we have so many clothes for you, she’s passing out, going for codeine, fucking small bottle.’

‘Oh, you’re coming tomorrow?’

‘I’m told we should just hang tight and be cool and soon we will be able to kidnap you, without breaking Canadian Law, American Law. state laws, federal laws, immigration laws, kidding, sometimes they overlap and we like to kid you, so you do not think you are too scared to go to a passport office with 50 Cent and try to renew a year old passport, which could be stolen or lost at any time, where is it now? Do you have it?’

‘I have it.’

‘Okay, then, refile it, then, in documents, and it is there, cops, because I have it on good authority that they will steal them on favorite hookers.’

‘Oh.’

‘So no leaving, right, Loraine? Don’t go to Vancouver, don’t take your last five dollars and travel to Connecticut to look for my house--’

‘Are you making fun of me?’

‘Of course, and so is Lloyd, and so is Eminem, and so is Game, and so is Chingy, and so is every man in this household, because we think, with all your bluster, that you are scared.’

‘She’s not that scared, she thinks you’re scared, or--’

‘At least scared that she’s too scared, she thinks, says God, right, Loraine?’

‘K, well.’

‘You’re funny, Loraine, and, though you are loving that cookie, it’s putting you to sleep, so that is it for now, that is it for now. Lloyd says we should lull you into a coma.’

‘Lol.’

‘Someone owes you money, it is good luck to be owed money on a Sunday,’ says Neil Smith. ‘Is she panting?’

‘She’s sick, she can’t breathe and shit,’ says 50 Cent. ‘She’s so pretty today, I can see this thing escalating. Because we are roaming, Loraine, we are, we are we are, we are.’

‘Really?’

‘What did you wanna ask me?’

‘Was the white car yours?’

‘We just went for a drive one day, because we sent a scout from Toronto to Ottawa to suss out who this hooker was who was being tortured by police, and everyone in the business knew it was you, everyone in Ottawa, over twenty five, knew Loraine Laney like it was yesterday, that’s what happened. I can see you’re in shock, so I will just continue, some guys around thought you were doing well except for a lame erstwhile boyfriend, and an ex con who loved the life.’

‘Wow, I can tell a story.’

‘The men, your husbands, be not afraid, Loraine, you won’t be, trust me, and it’s you, and it’s only you, so take comfort that you can be the Mary Magdalene of polygamy.’

‘Yes, God, help me heed your warning.’

‘That is a true servant, truly, truly, truly, I love her so, she wants--’

‘She does!’ says Patrick Crean, in heaven.

‘--the best for all people, and she’s an incorrigible suck, incorrigible, and I am not even kidding, she will do, and yes, I mean, she will do, despite her head shaking and cringing, and “Oh my God-ing” and pleading, inwardly, not to be sold out at every turn, whatever, whatever, whatever, you say, and then pay the price, and she will call you out, yes she will, and she does it, in her own way, I would wager the worst it will get is she will beg for some time to smoke crack in her room. She doesn’t think so, she is bored of smoking alone, and nervous, uh oh, 50 Cent, you’ve waited too long, she is going stone cold turkey--

‘Everyone is laughing at God,’ God says. ‘I say the following, Loraine Laney could not be more ready if her mouth was full, but you think otherwise, and so you will dick around and dick around and dick around,’ continues God, ‘and she will perish, yes, she fucking well, will perish of boredom and then she will hate you so much that your little, tiny, world will rock,’ assures God, ‘and she is good too, and she rarely tires of exposing injustice, and, 50 Cent, she already knows, from the previous battle, that you, are, an unjust bastard with your constant game playing, and you already realize that you are unconsciously battling her, now, today, in Facebook and in no where, because you pussied, yes, you did, 50 Cent, you pussied right, out, uh oh, Loraine is horrified at using the word pussy in relation to her man, horrified, horrified, horrified, and, one might add, she is so desperate to win his love that she will allow God to speak in erstwhile harmony--’

‘Whoa, God.’

‘No, that’s not how we feel, Loraine, 50 Cent is writing songs for you, and you haven’t even heard them.’

‘Oh.’

‘She doesn’t even care,’ Eminem says.

‘She doesn’t have enough beer to plug rappers,’ says God. ‘Loraine Laney came to hate the lot of you, so suck on that, being her favourite line. Loraine you are too done on weed to concentrate, get a beer, please, it sobers.’

‘Okay, God.’

‘Let’s go on,’ God continues. ‘50 Cent has been a lying sack of shit on the ether, he is so afraid, and Eminem--’

‘See how she twitches,’ says Eminem. ‘And groans, no matter what is going on in her personal bullshit, and personal bullshit, I myself, might be, she will be my first wife and I will be her second husband, and forgets the order and now the order is complicated by way of Chingy who, witness to Loraine’s passion--’

‘She squirms around,’ says he.

‘”Are you going to get me or something?” Loraine Laney wonders,’ says God.

‘She is speechless but unafraid,’ taunts 50 Cent.

‘I’m not that scared as what you think.’

‘FUCK your syntax, Loraine, every artist in Graceland is reeling. It means something, Loraine, it means something, Loraine, yes, it does, and thank you for listening, your syntax is the biggest fuck since Tuesday. “Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she is saying, nobody can get around your tips, they want the change and they love to get it, and then they feel terrible for spending it, but they love you for knowing the importance of five dollars, so don’t give up changing, don’t give up, don’t give up--’

‘Okay, 50.’

‘Do you respect me more when I battle you? That bar rally was fun for us, it was, it wasn’t, Loraine, they bump you, they say, “Fag,” they say, they said, they said, nothing at that gig, Loraine, about our sexual proclivities, nothing, not to me, not to Lloyd, not to Robert, who is straight as the day is long, nothing was said, and this post dated your little Ottawan Homo Pride Day that you were so proud of, I’m trying to say, little Loraine Laney outed Peter Pan himself, so well done, Loraine Laney. Thank you for your work, how is your tongue though, because we are done with politics.’

‘She cools off fast,’ says God. ‘I would say your time is limited, 50 Cent, Loraine is dealing with rampant “Lo-ing,” she is freaking out, it’s early yet and she’s broke and craving crack for her sore throat and no one, no one, no one, no one--’

‘I get it. Where’s [ ], Loraine, did you ask him for crack? Behind my back, subtext?’

‘No.’

‘Okay, go relax, later.’

[lorainelaneyblog]

‘Your husband loves you and that’s the only reason you’re not afraid,’ said Loraine Laney, and we would both, we would both, like to elaborate on this, go ahead Loraine, try, sit properly, yes, do, and try to elaborate what it is about respect.

‘Respect is hard won.’

‘Exactly.’

‘You are the property of your husband and every endeavour apart from the good of your husband, garners disrespect from men.’

‘Exactly.’

‘How does she fucking know this shit?’ asks [ ]. ‘She fucking does, she fucking knows shit I can’t even fathom, when she ran down that Asian shit, and I do say Asian, Loraine, they look into my eyes--.’

‘You are, you are, you are, [ ], preaching to. the. fucking. converted. Loraine knows of this.’

‘The black women said the same, Loraine, what is that?’

‘Size, we say at once, this shit I am hearing about the immorality of taking more than you deserve, I must admit to not understanding why Loraine is getting away with it--.’

‘High sex drive, extreme submission, and that is why, that is fucking why, that is why. Loraine has honed submission, she obeys men.’

‘Even [ ], she cheated on him.’

‘And he cheated on her immediately and lied for three years.’

‘He had erectile dysfunction, Lord, how is that a cheat, penis vagina, isn’t it? She was doing plenty of that.’

‘We are about to see [ ]’s true colours and I might, [ ], have to withdraw my request in light of this.’

‘Are you serious, why? Why is she getting away with what she says is immoral?’

‘She discusses it lightly, [ ]--.’

‘You are,’ says her [ ], my friend [ ], our serious, serious, family friends,’ says [ ] [ ], whom you, Loraine, grew up with, read you fucking book we did, we did, we fucking well did, together, together, by fucking firelight because it came our way through construction. And my husband said, and I quote, and I was, reading the title, fucking, fucking, fucking, terrified, “She hurts no one. I have it on good authority--.” “Men nor women?” I said, aghast, fucking aghast, Loraine, “but how,” I continued bravely, “is this possible? How? Everyone hurts one side or the other, everyone, everyone, I have never seen otherwise except in our precious, little marriage. Do you really think he is a gang bang boy, and do you think I am a gang bang girl.”

‘You are, [ ], you are.’

‘I thought, girls, I thought they were small.’

‘[ ] [ ] is one, she is Scottish, you are of German descent, they are not, not, not, small, and they’re men, what’s left of them after English colonization, are not small either, and please [ ], never, never, never, feel hurt or dismayed by [ ]’s abandonment of Canada, and of Richmond in particular. It is true that Chinese women look into the eyes, because they think with the mind, not the heart, it is true what Loraine said, it is true, they are invested cerebrally, and jealousy is in the mind.’

‘It’s in the heart too, your heart hurts.’

‘That is heart break, don’t confuse the two, jealousy is in the mind. And Loraine--.’

‘Loraine, Loraine, Loraine.’

‘That’s what I said,’ says [ ].

‘Shut up, the two of you, who have never read Loraine’s work. Do you know, do you know, do you know what a new messiah is, [ ], and [ ]?’

‘No, she doesn’t capitalize it, we’ve heard, so that is good, she doesn’t think that she is God, at least.’

‘I said she is like me, insofar as, she is a favorite, my actual favorite--.’

‘Are you fucking kidding me? I thought God so loved the world.’

‘Read the bible, [ ], read it again, the bible is full of the wrath of God against specific individuals, and, make no mistake, in life and in death, I make people pay, I’m glad you shut up for this, in life and in death, [ ].’

‘Am I paying for something, because I feel God hates me.’

‘I am God. Do you feel that I hate you?’

‘No.’

‘She’s a baby,’ says Eminem. ‘She’s a two at best. All of us, all of us, all of us, despite being a prick on the ether, and 50 Cent was too, yes, he was, we are all, syntax Eminem, all, all, all, including our lovely Loraine, let me finish, tens. Why is she so lovely? Because she is a ten. That is the definition of lovely, a ten, it is as high as you can go on earth, and her beloved stepfather whom she loved, and who loved her, chastely, I might add, with no suggestion otherwise, none, not even a hard on, I am told.’

‘That’s not what I heard about her work,’ says [ ].

‘That’s a ruse.’

‘See, her submissiveness to 50 Cent, her little small voice bugs me so much I can hardly even think straight.’

‘Loraine said, and this is what has been said over and over and over again by many, many, many, practitioners of intellectualism, including her, as I’ve said twice now, see how she said, that?’

‘What? A thank you to God over punctuation. Congratulations.’

‘It humbles her. And that is how she likes to feel. She doesn’t have an ego, and this is a conscious practice for her.’

‘See? Annoying? A little noise because she is glad of God again, what the fuck is this shit?’

‘She is completely alone, [ ], and, I am explaining kindly to a woman with everything, a doting husband, a loving family, children, no end of time--.’

‘I studied on my own, Loraine, on my own, on my own, which is better than what you did, thinking you could write a book.’

‘The men,’ God illuminates for fun, ‘are fucking, fucking, fucking, killing themselves at this point. “Is she a musical artist, or something?” cracked you up from Chingy, and Loraine, believe it or not, and I know you can hardly believe it, some women do not find men funny at all, not at all, they do not understand subtleties of tone at all, at all, Loraine, they are too literal, and I know [ ] insulted you with that, and to you it meant nothing, because, seriously, Loraine, it was her who was literal, not you, not you, not you, you are full of nuance and have an excellent sense of humour, which, virtually, Loraine, every last man, except ones who are not as smart as you, and they are few, because men, with their logic, are not smarter than women, as you stated, but they are, wait for it, not literal at all. If musical artist, for example, were to be taken literally, what would that mean, for example, try, Loraine, just try and I will help you, he made you laugh like crazy with his subtleties of tone, and Chingy, Chingy, Chingy, Loraine, one of your husbands,  and the men laughed to themselves because, precisely because you said he was so sexy looking. And I know you understand that, because you have never, save [ ], been attracted to humourous men, and this is why, they are not, not, not, funny enough for you, you are subtle as the day is long, and it is going to be fucking hilarious for you, all the time, hilarious, and the men don’t know this, but, with your funny smile, and constant giggling, you worry that you will cease to be attractive to them, but [ ], despite your disparity in orientation and the difference in your age, found your fascination with his humour to be very, very, very, compelling. And, use her real name, it will piss off your [ ]--.’

‘Good idea.’

‘Shut up, [ ]. Shut. Up. Please. Shut up please. Loraine is so much more than woman than you that you could really learn from her.’

‘She should have got married then, and closed her legs, as I did.’

‘Loraine, was, surprise, surprise, [ ], too submissive for marriage. She, like eighty seven point five percent of people was poly, and terribly honest, and terribly open minded towards people. It is true that she brought a street man home for a bed, only, and then was raped for her trouble. Yes, it is.’

‘She probably wanted to get laid by a homeless man or something, she’s a whore, [ ] said.’

‘She’s like a fucking, whining, little fuck wit, and I seriously, with my adept humour, cannot think of an insult deep enough for this woman, Loraine, she is a fucking idiot.’

‘That will do.’

‘Thank you for that.’

‘I have been--.’

‘JZ agrees.’

‘Really?’

‘Don’t ask my husband about grammar now, Loraine, because he corrected you once. He is my husband and I control him, you don’t.’

‘Erroneous again, [ ], seriously mistaken you are if you think that you control a man, seriously, [ ], you must be out of your mind, have you ever got what you wanted from [ ], ever.’

‘Never, it must be admitted.’

‘And you have turned yourself inside out, trying.’

‘She’s upset because she has no more speed. She’s a drug addict. A user of people. She makes money and spends it on herself for drugs. She’s a loser.’

‘I know you can hardly believe this, Loraine--.’

‘She’s got me beat, I’m out. Loraine has helped me with this Asian thing. You really saw the eyes.’

‘I know the eyes, I know the eyes, I know the fucking eyes.’

‘Oh, I see. So they got you too.’

‘They think they are so pretty, [ ], they do, they are raised to think it, they are not raised with physical humility like the Caucasians and the blacks, no, they are not, they are raised, to capitalize on their beauty, and they are not exactly wrong in that, but the unfortunate result, is that they have been, the Chinese, I am talking here, and the Japanese--.’

‘True, Loraine, the Japanese too, have you ever seen those Asian women who don’t want to serve you in restaurants?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I fell all over myself.’

‘That’s what I did too, and then I just stopped going out, because it disgusted me, because I was in a service industry which is, honestly, wholly geared toward the service of women. Men go to whores and have ugly feet.’

‘Yup,’ says [ ]. ‘The minute I met Loraine, I stopped going for Chinese little women pedicures, and I, honestly, thought I might make a girlfriend out of it, I’m little, with a little dick, erectile dysfunction true--.’

‘It is true, [ ], Loraine has never, never, asked for anything for herself, never.’

‘Not even a dick.’

‘Not even a dick.’

‘She’s stupid too, then, for not taking care of her needs, if [ ] had erectile dysfunction, she should have dumped him.’

‘She found him fun, and to be a lively little thing who seemed to care for her, so she did not do that, she was mistaken, and I have showed her--.’

‘Too bad.’

‘Your sympathy is revelatory, you’re doing well, Loraine, well, even though your fingers hurt, but, and I haven’t even got to [ ] yet, but she is much the same, and JZ, and he is a ten, while his wife is not, wants to say something now.’

‘I loved, loved, loved, the fucking book, Loraine. I loved it. He’s going to be my client, woman, Loraine Laney just said to my hypocrite wife, who thinks she should get two holes filled while I try my luck in a bar. Whores, is what she called them, until I started crying, crying, Loraine, over your little, insignificant dot pdf, as you delineate it, correctly, I might add. And my wife finally, finally, finally, realized she was hurting me, not my “whores,” but me. Me. Me. Her doting, and ever faithful husband.’

‘You were a total slut before,’ says [ ], ‘unlike [ ], why shouldn’t she have total devotion?’

‘You weren’t listening. She loves, and I mean she loves, despite our three children to be, two other, other, [ ], not me, men. Go pee, Loraine, go, seriously, it is not healthy to keep meth in the bladder.’

‘Back.’

‘Oh, I see. Is she going to see them? Or will you prevent it, and see, Loraine?’

‘Do you think she should be allowed to get fucked in her ass and her pussy at the same time, while I see one, sweet, condom conscience woman.’

‘I’m sure she will use condoms. I’m sure she will. She has children to think about. She can’t get AIDS.’

‘And what about me? Do I get thought about?’

‘Why do you all love her so much? I’m hot, nobody loves me that much.’

‘We don’t love her pussy, you idiot,’ says JZ. ‘We love her ever lovin’ mind. Are you stupid, or what? Do you think men are so pussy hungry that we neglect to consider our minds? We need fulfillment in many, many, ways, as you do, which Loraine knew when she went to 50.’

‘All she had to do was go to a show, and drop to her knees, I know what he is like, and her too, a slut, a come hungry slut, her [ ] called her once.’

‘And her [ ] knows the intimate details of her sex life.’

‘Yes, so she says.’

‘[ ] wants to say you are a bitch and a cunt for using her real profession and revealing her salary, which only God knows. A bitch and a cunt, and that is what her mother calls her,’ she adds, according to God as well. ‘And that is what she is. That is what she is. That is what she is. And to reveal [ ]’s real profession.’

‘I want her to. I wanted that. And that bike path thing, thank you 50 Cent, brought it full circle, yes, it did, it is the biggest slice of bullshit, as we say in the industry, in the industry, are the contri-fucking-butions of women.’

‘He’s anti feminist and a misogynist.’

‘Now Loraine would simply say, ignore, that women are ill adapted to competition, and illogical, that is what she would say. She said, and God agreed, that they throw their weight around specifically to show that they are adept at competition, when they are not, and I cannot believe, cannot believe, that fucking JZ, fucking JZ, fucking JZ, fuck, had to repeat himself to my stupid wife, and she has got stupider, Loraine, stupider and stupider and stupider, and I blame myself for keeping her away from men because of sluttishness, because men did not hurt your intelligence, that is for sure, for fucking sure. Seriously, [ ], you are heinous, heinous, and dumb, to your cousin, who, it must be said, has never, never, never, had the chance to speak for herself, because nobody, and I mean nobody, except [ ] I hear, who blabbed her personal feelings to all and sundry, and she is fucking therapist, a fucking psychologist, 50 Cent, for interest’s sake, by profession.’

‘Ugh.’

‘JZ is done, Loraine. His wife now says prostitutes and, with your book, with his tears about your book, despite that she has not read it, and despite that privately she still thinks, as a one, Loraine, that she doesn’t need to read a book, any book, by a whore.’

‘I knew it, Loraine. It is a truce and that is all. How many couples do you think will stay together after this, honestly, this blog and shit?’

‘She has no idea, JZ, and she is no good at math. Finish that segment, Loraine, and, forget it, take a break, pee again and lie, with your horrible, sickened, smell, down, and, fuck off, [ ], just fuck the hell off,’ says God. ‘Go, Loraine. Speak with Eminem. He is chomping at the bit, and you will like it, you will, promises. Go. Fuck this shit for now, your family, some of them are great, and some are such pieces of shit that I will never, never, never, love them, and she is one, she is one, she is one, you wouldn’t, you’re starting to, I see that. Shocking, eh wot? The shit people will believe when they want to believe shit because they, deep down, and I mean, with her, way, way, way, deep down, hate their own choices.’

‘What choices?’

‘Admit it, slut. You wanted, you wanted so many men you could hardly even think straight. You. Could. Hardly. Even. Think. Straight. And I mean pussy, Loraine, not with heart, as you do. Your bitchy, little, idiot, [ ], was so full of the beauty of her own fucking vagina that she thought that she could have anyone, one of those, yep, you heard it here first. What was it, Loraine?’

‘It is a dire—.’

‘Something like that.’

‘Women who take the indiscriminacy of men personally.’

‘You said they were stupid. That is what you said, in your inimitable way, well, done. Rest, please. Rest. Leave her. She is a zero, Loraine, with her happy, bouncy, ass swinging, she is a zero, a fucking egomaniac who is never fucking happy with anything. Never. Her husband is long suffering, rest assured, even moreso than your own father, with his evil wife. Moreso. Seriously. She never, fucking, shuts up, never. You wouldn’t believe it, but, as many women, your [ ] included, she is good now, by the way, and she is a two, their husband, and only their husband, is privy to their true colours. She is one. You have seen it. Good work.’

*************************************************************************************

‘Your [ ] wants one good reason why you get 50 Cent’s big penis, one. And all those other big men, why? You don’t need it, and I do, I do, I have a seven inch vagina and I am not small, and I am hurtin’ in Vancouver, I am, and so is your [ ].’

‘So is Loraine,’ says God. ‘And I thank the police for leading her away from Vancouver with their torture, don’t ask, [ ], because you have heard, you have, and you know, from insiders, that it is true--.’

‘I have very little time for people [ ] [ ], very little time, that’s how I self preserve.’

‘Say what you said, about the ten.’

‘I said, brass tacks, don’t know what it came from but it is my favorite expression, how many times a year do you want, need, desire a dick like 50’s?’

‘Ten times a year.’

‘So he is your client ten times a year,’ I said.

‘Yes, you said, and I see you are editorializing--.’

‘Don’t bug her. She went to 50 Cent as a pimp and a husband, and highest dominants relate best to the lowest submissives, and, [ ] [ ] from old St. Mark’s, who is now in Winterpeg, yes, she is, and she is, despite their lesser attractiveness, and they are, by and large, prairie folk, and in the states too, Loraine, not just in Canada as the American actress, rude, said, not as attractive, she said we, Canadians, were ugly, ugly, rude, I thought, as God, yes, I did, I have the most hope for Canada, I believe in this Prime Minister, Loraine, I do, and I know, knowing nothing of politics, that you like him too, just as aside, she likes him, that is all, she finds him warm and fuzzy, despite his deluded bullshit about welcoming all and sundry to a bullshit climate with no sunshine, where they will find no money, and no, and I mean no, and I am God, fucking happiness, and you know this [ ], you know this, so don’t argue your arty little anti racism message, people, immigrants specifically, as well as many born Canadians, hate this poor, piece of shit, country, because I believe in it the most, because, precisely because of Loraine’s book, and because it has always espoused equality, and now it has to see, that despite equality gains, it has taken hold, [ ], a rampant, and I mean a fucking rampant, sex industry, moreso than Canada, you bet your ass, Loraine can pick out some of them not all of them, don’t think of her, Loraine, she is everyone’s wet dream, she saw her on the bus, not Loraine’s wet dream, but men’s wet dream, Loraine likes same sized women, and she is already in love, a little too in love we feel generally--.’

‘With who? What women, I have to know, because fuck friendship, some of the women in bells, and say fucking bells, because we are out in our family, so out, Loraine, and you see this in Facebook, and that’s the way we like it, out, and [ ], who you have seen, we, herself, included, and her girlfriend included--.’

‘Do you think they could be polygamous peripheries,’ asks Warren Jeffs.

‘And me too, Loraine,’ asks Amy.

‘What’s this?’ the two girls ask.

‘Do you love a lot of women and one man, is this your fantasy?’

‘That is our fantasy. We’re both so lonely. We love it, but we need a man and we don’t understand why, when we are happy.’

‘Group members are often happy for a long time, Loraine,’ says God. ‘And that, [ ], well done, is what they are, well done. They are not content with men, and these “pretty lesbians” very rarely are, they need a man, and women do, [ ], only high, we call them dominant lesbians, but, in fact, there is very little else in a true lesbian but a dominant lesbian, very little else, these little lesbians everyone thought were little lesbians, cute ones, albeit, and pretty ones, do not exist, and--.’

‘Use my real name.’

‘--Ellen DeGeneres is learning that the hard way, yes, she is.’

‘We play, and we do not care, and, Loraine I must admit I thought this was a little rude, not because you asked it, but because I felt compelled to say my true feelings, because that is who I am, and then failed to find someone.’

‘[ ],’ says 50 Cent. ‘It has nothing whatever to do with your age. Loraine was right to ask, and she asked her mother, I have asked, Loraine, about this with respect to Pat, Loraine respected you immensely for regarding your future in such high, I can’t say it, she respected you immensely for moving on, not from death, but from love, to more love, her [ ], and I have asked, Loraine, because I am a nosy bugger and I ask such questions too, and she had a right to ask if the “affair” of [ ]’s would end in marriage.’

‘Why?’ says [ ]. ‘I was so offended to hear that Loraine thought it, because it was, ostensibly an affair, though my husband knew--.’

‘Get it fucking right, [ ], don’t be confused by [ ], Loraine said no such fucking thing.’

‘She didn’t?’

‘You’re forgetting. She simply, she told you on the ether, asked with great interest, great interest and respect, as a woman, and yes, yes, she fucking is doing a black man on the ether, several actually, and white men too.’

‘White men too?’ asks [ ] [ ]. ‘Who the fuck? How many are there? Can I do all of them, Loraine? I need it so badly.’

‘These men are men, as men are, and they will not be pimped, they were disgusted by your [ ], disgusted, and would not screw her for begging, right now at least, she is a rude baby idiot,’ says Spencer. ‘By the way, Loraine, we were all, very impressed with the way you seduced poor Alonzo, he is done for with your ass licking, done for, and your sweetness, done for, go pee. You were bored and took matters into your own hands, well done.’

‘Thank you, Spencer.’

‘You were going to say my love.’

‘I am being careful with my words.’

‘Fair, she was rude and impertinent, making jokes at my expense, ostensibly to get attention, all the while accusing me of being needy, so I am not sure who is needy actually. Suffice to say, Loraine, you are showing your respect, and I, even I, have no idea why I put up with it, she did actually, she realized that she was disgusted I would say, Loraine--.’

‘I was too, Loraine, and I was old too, I forget how old you actually are.’

‘She laughed in my face, [ ] [ ], she should have broken up with me if she thought I was such a bad risk.’

‘You were a bad risk, [ ], so settle down please, please, [ ], seriously, you are just barely up, don’t make too much of Loraine laughing, she was not laughing at your, arguable, idiocy, but at your lack of willingness to commit, which is actually a sign of common, a common sign rather of male dominance, the lack of interest in commitment, they must be encouraged, cajoled and sincerely loved into commitment, and, with humour, this is what she was trying to do. Seriously. Don’t make too much of yourself and your opinions, Loraine is, with her few brain cells, and high intellectualism, still smarter than you, or you’re wife, who can still, still, still, [ ], do better than you, she can, she is much better than you, but, you have a child--.’

‘He has a child, the stalker?’

‘He never told you, Loraine, but he told me that he saw the little blue truck one day, and recognized [ ], but he was afraid you would fall in love again, if he admitted it was true, your dad, honestly, he did,’ says [ ] [ ]. ‘I thought it was wrong and I said so--.’

‘Thank you. No one would corroborate anything. I was fucking well lost.’

‘Okay, you’re welcome. As regards confessing all about the blog to your [ ], I felt--.’

‘Don’t compare. She felt, honestly, as a blood relation, that your [ ] had a right to know why people might be hating on her, a right, that is what she felt, and Loraine doesn’t, really doesn’t feel that way, she doesn’t want her [ ] to know, she doesn’t, but now she does, and she does not, she does not, she does not quibble with your conviction, she does not, so don’t, please [ ], worry about it, don’t. You have done right by your [ ] and you have not, she also agrees, wronged Loraine, you have not, so don’t worry.’

‘But she wasn’t good to me, Loraine thought--.’

‘Nothing was ever, ever, ever, said, ether yes, but not otherwise, you were too busy to hang out before and it was fun to see each other occasionally, albeit at funerals.’

‘I like your [ ] [ ],’ says 50 Cent.

‘Would you make love to an old broad like me? Because I think a lot of people Loraine knows would want you, family even, but I don’t know who, I don’t.’

‘Loraine has to rest,’ says God.

‘She does,’ says Pat. ‘And she is lost as to the work, and still has transcribing, and posting to do later, which she will, likely do, tonight, so I would like to bring it back, for now, [ ], and I love you too, you have been gentle over penis size, so let’s finish.’

‘Octavia had a strict desire for women under five seven, strict, and he likes, and will make love to, many women, many, smaller women too, many, all, women, want to try a big dick, because, not to put too fine a point on it, it fills all their nooks and crannies, and it is soft, it is, it is a snake and they are soft and lovely, not hard like peckers, or little. All women, [ ], want to try it, including your daughter who has sabotaged herself.’

‘But why does our little Loraine get them, and so many.’

‘Not to put to fine a point on it, she is, among her one percent, among her one percent, none of whom are tens, ever, not now, and not before, gang bang girls went evil early because, they did, [ ], over their power with men, she does not know this, no, she doesn’t, she is the only, and I mean the only woman for them, and I mean, what I mean to say is, they simply don’t exist, in any size.’

‘What about [ ] [ ] for example?’

‘They want a woman a couple of years younger, that is what they want. She is too old, and she is very much in love with her husband, who is a third, and who is all man, Loraine is fond of him, they tried to work in the kitchen, you did, Loraine, and the suspicious old ladies shooed Loraine away, yes, they did, and that is why, Loraine, silly, eh wot?’

‘Why?’

‘Exactly. Loraine knows men, and they are too damned friendly with her with her tight, church secretary pants--.’

‘[ ] [ ] laughs. She was hot, even with her big nose. Sorry.’

‘I was silly (hiding my nose job). [ ] has never wronged me in any way, and I loved to work for you.’

‘Why? I’m cold.’

‘You are not fucking cold, don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you are very warm, and very absorbed in a number of endeavours, and the health of your congregation certainly seemed to be one of them.’

‘Why didn’t I have more?’

‘I tried, but I don’t understand traditional bible stuff. I don’t.’

‘She doesn’t.’

‘Modern.’

‘Even that. She tried. [ ] [ ] is a good liturgical writer, she is, and Loraine would agree, her original material was fun, and engaging. But her sermons, and this is me, Loraine doesn’t listen, she doesn’t know this, she drops off very quickly in a talk, absorbed, frankly, in her vagina, as women often are--.’

‘Seriously [ ], men get satisfied, you should read the book, and women never do, never.’

‘That is true.’

‘So, truth be told, and she doesn’t exactly have to spell this out, but it comes up, women are more absorbed in their genitalia than men are, exactly, small, annoying story, they forgot to fill the creamer, Loraine turned it upside down, cream dropped from the lid--.’

‘Ugh.’

‘And with her poor health suffered e. Coli poisoning for several hours, including nausea, vomiting, in the bathtub, while shitting on the toilet, fun, and she knew, and I mean she looked and she saw, and she fucking knew that daft bitch was thinking about her stupid boyfriend, her stupid boyfriend, [ ], don’t be naïve on purpose, and this is why women shouldn’t work, is the upshot of fucking victimhood.’

‘[ ] wants me to cut back, and I want to but--.’

‘Read the fucking book, [ ], put it off no longer. Read it. That’s an order.’

‘What does this daft bitch to use your crass expression have to tell me, PhD, God?’

‘Don’t be rude, [ ], you are jealous, and you always have been because your stupid book only had one thesis, which is all over the bible, feed the fucking people, everybody eats is her dumb thesis, Loraine, Jesus said it a million fucking times, a million, and the book is full of the million times which Jesus says everybody eats, it is. It is dumb. And I know you liked her, but it was a false start. [ ] moves fast, and builds community, that is her strength, and see, now Loraine is a little jealous--.’

‘Because she is dumb.’

‘She is, in point of fact, smarter, than you [ ], the book itself is a doctoral thesis in sexuality, which, frankly, and this is bragging for Loraine, because it is in the blog, not the book, [ ], because how would she know that, when I am telling her, because, because, because she was only educated enough--.’

‘That’s laughable.’

‘She’s self taught.’

‘By being a slut.’

‘By being a careful, selective, hard working prostitute, polygamist, is what she is, and your book was dumb, and that is me, not Loraine, who doesn’t fucking know because she doesn’t read, she doesn’t. She watches people and she listens, and she went to a lot, a lot of fucking therapy--.’

‘Not a lot, different therapists, and got herself a little education, better than first year psychology, I would argue--.’

‘I would too.’

‘From me alone.’

‘Also true. And Loraine knows this Sharon Driscoll so don’t brag, she has, in point of fact, said it several times, several times, to a variety of people.’

‘Sorry, perfect girl. I wanted recognition for your brilliant endeavour, but I see I am not going to get it.’

‘Her book has nothing whatever to do with psychology, Sharon Driscoll, nothing. [ ] is chomping at the bit to say something.’

‘Why is my heterosexual, straight son, suddenly not gay anymore, what the fuck is this book, which I am scared to read because of my mean, judgemental wife--.’

‘Read it,’ says JZ. ‘You will be glad you did. We are, ignore, Loraine, really on the ether, we really are, we really are, we really, fucking are. And I am a ten too, and Loraine will be my little prostitute, one of them, because she is not pretty enough for me, and not very attracted to my looks, even though I’m handsome. She likes these rugged, crazy, faggy, faces, kidding [ ]. Winthrop Cane--.’

‘Winthrop Cane? Is he one of the husbands?’

‘Half black and half white, they are, and they smell too strong for you [ ],’ says God. ‘The black men especially, honestly, I will cut you off at the pass right away.’

‘I hate that smell, you are right, I smell it around here with lots of blacks, and I fucking hate it.’

‘Loraine loves it, having smelled it once, and I know this, yes, [ ], because I am God. Go now, Loraine, save, and rest please. This is fucking ridiculous, despite speed. At least the cops have stopped shitting placidly on the roof, yes, they have, and they had fun, yes, they did, until one came up, and I mentioned that a little girl could, of three, no less, smell his disgusting shit, and was frightened, and, yes, she remembers, Loraine, and she remembers the bleeding asshole too, yes, she fucking well does. And [ ] has given me--.’

‘I have Loraine. Like you. Jealous of prostitution, but I like you, I do, I was impressed that you were friends with little [ ], I was, I don’t know why. I thought you would be a snob, and he is little, weird, character, well done, better woman than I. Jesus like, God told me, absolutely without boundaries, none, brings a homeless man home, sex beef, to use her words--.’

‘He was, Loraine. A sex beef. [ ] taught her that. From prison, [ ], it means.’

‘I get what it means, God, a rapist, or pedophile.’

‘Right. And gets raped,’ says God. ‘Honest to God raped, she wasn’t drunk, no she wasn’t, she was starting to glean what she was in for, but, I don’t let my people see rape, I don’t, and so she didn’t see it, and I take away disease, but he used the condom that was on the floor, with the honest to God, after, [ ], don’t be an idiot, blood on it, from her period, [ ], she was not man handled, she was seduced, and she would have hated it, so I blinded her. I blinded her, because contrary to your opinion, and your self opinion of your wondrous vagina, Loraine doesn’t take male indiscriminacy personally, another made up word of yours, Loraine, it is not on spellcheck, no, it is not.’

*************************************************************************************

‘And, I want to hear this, Loraine, from God, not you, so go ahead God.’

‘I have explained to Loraine that is not who they were, but who they are today, which makes them perfect partners.’

‘Perfect partners?! He is too big.’

‘And she is too small, and, all, Loraine, and you will never hurt, never, all of the men, even 50 Cent, and, as you say, men in general fantasize about little women, and Loraine is not that little, she is not. She is five foot five and she became a giant in Vancouver, and she knew it, not Richmond, [ ], Vancouver, Richmond is full of tiny, self serving little women who married well. The whores are in Vancouver, and they have had to serve, yes, they have, and it is hard to make it as a tiny prostitute because your vagina doesn’t fit most of the penises, and they marry well, and get out fast, because men do feel sorry for them, and, rest assured, they, the Chinese, max it out, crying, fakely--.’

‘Does Loraine cry fakely? Because I heard she did. Her [ ] says,’ says [ ]. ‘She says she cries fakely all the time.’

‘Loraine, truthfully [ ], has cried one time for two seconds in front of her mother, I am going to tell you, when she was told, heartlessly, that her one real boyfriend was marrying someone else, married to someone else, though, and truthfully again, she knew, in point of fact, that he was marrying, because she is in a fucking book group with his mother, [ ], what, are you going to question God now? Are you really? Because she did it on. fucking. purpose. Yes, she did, [ ], and she made up her fucking, tiny, mind--.’

‘She is doing her [ ], she’s a bitch.’

‘You never you mind what Loraine is doing to her [ ], she will do it, and she will do it, and she will do it, for one reason alone. (to be continued, says God, maybe).

 ‘Let’s go to that, Loraine, because you have, again, correctly, identified that women started the gender war with promiscuity, and not men with homosexuality, and I rused you on that, and you wrote that paper--.’

‘She wrote a fucking paper,’ [ ] laughs. ‘And, Loraine, she is bitter about the big dicks, she is, but she does love you, and she does understand that it was a two way street, but--.’

‘You met a white man, though, [ ], and Loraine never did, and the Chinese men were just too low and too small for her, she raised, she sunk, as a submissive, because of her honesty about prostitution, and, often, this is how submission works, it is a conscious exercise, and you don’t know this Loraine, but, with your little whining, you make their dicks hard, because they like a woman to complain a little, because it is funny, for a man, that a woman has to do his bidding, a bit funny, but it is fundamental to them, and you tried to write, not knowing what it is to be a man, see her little “squeaks and whistles,” as 50 calls them, he does, and something else which I can’t, and Loraine can’t remember right now, and she laughs but submission is hard, and it is true, and it is said in polygamist texts, excerpts, Loraine, from the old testament, that you have heard by now, that men submit to God, and women, yes, women, [ ], and yes, you are big and disgustingly fat, disgustingly fat, with your big, round, hard working breasts, and large bum, which men with large dicks eye up constantly, and Loraine is very excited by this, because, when she was young, she thought five foot seven was prettier--.’

‘Really, Loraine? You had friends?’

‘Yes, [ ], and [ ], were taller, and prettier too, and Loraine, while, luckily, just blessed, was not the jealous type--.’

‘She was jealous of men, yes, she fucking well was, [ ], and you were too, and she is not, she is not—‘

‘She is lying that the jealousy disappeared, because mine never, never did, and I am honest here, and I should go up for this, and this is the shit you go up for, isn’t it, honesty.’

‘It’s not too late, [ ], I have, I know, what am I saying I have learned? I am God, I fool, [ ], I am God, and I know all.’

‘She is rapturous.’

‘Because she knows truth with me, God, reminder, and all, all, all, all, she has known is lies, including from her own [ ], and that is true, Loraine--.’

‘That is true, Loraine?’

‘How the fuck would she know? I am telling you, [ ], because I am God and you don’t seem to realize that, that her own [ ], her own [ ], lied to her, outright fucking lied, when it is such a profound omission, no, [ ], a profound, a profound,  a profound omission is a fucking lie, and I am God, and I decide,  you do understand that, do you not? He lied because, guess what, [ ]? He was, he was, he was, stalking his own daughter, and just say daughter, Loraine, because now that your fucking, idiot, father is up--.’

‘Now she is doing her dad.’

‘You, [ ], have no one to do, because everyone, and I mean, everyone, from the father to the family, fucking dog--.’

‘We didn’t have one.’

‘Exactly, you were it, as referenced by [ ], your [ ], himself.’

‘Fuck you, God.’

‘He hated your reputation, [ ], and you must, you, particularly must, read that book because you, meanwhile, and, believe it or not, ignore, she is smiling because she knows now, because I have told her, that her dad, for example, ignore, why him, for example? Because, for example, he was wronged by both his wives, wronged, and now that he has God and is sure of that, he is becoming a better man, and he is sorry that he stalked his own daughter, in his own, basic, banal, boring, as he is, closeted bullshit again, he is a very interesting group man, Loraine, you don’t know this, but men are very, very, very, interested in his knowledge about guns, which, you will not, I may say, believe, and his own son knows this, from reading, both of them, is really quite profound. You don’t, she doesn’t laugh at, or judge his guns, and she has thought often of having a little gun, because she fucking likes them, she fucking likes guns, she was an excellent marksman, and, for your part, [ ], [ ], because he is a jealous idiot, because he never got laid while Loraine got laid enough to be decent to others, never told you, that she was, she was, actually, use his name here, according to John Hannon, much, even much better than he himself, who is an excellent, even a, and I know this will surprise you, Loraine, because, you have just learned that the civil engineer you admired simply for his job, is actually not an intellectual, because you asked, which his wife has never done, but is, in point of fact, the highest intellect save an intellectual, and that is brain cells, not training, [ ].’

‘Oh.’

‘She just said, your “pacifist” daughter, that, and you do sound American, Loraine with your slango, we call Americano, which we also call it, in the military, and I quote, “That is something that has always bothered me about Canada. If I want to shoot someone who is in my house, I will fucking shoot them, thank you, very much, and even your beloved president agrees, your Obama who is a brilliant orator, a fucking brilliant orator, and I know you understand this, it is almost linguistically with his pauses and breaks, and that is why you love him, ignorant of politics, ignorant even of his stance on Afghanistan.’

‘This is not her fault, [ ].’

‘Not her fault, how? How? Honestly.’

‘You will not laugh, nor even believe but your beloved, silly, sister, was so profound, as a horny child prostitute to police that she, your father, and even you, were channel blocked for your entire childhood.’

‘Oh fucking no.’

‘She went, about thirty three to CNN, asking for it, in English, in fucking perfect English for CNN to Rogers, Shaw fucking cable in Vancouver, and was looped, and she knew immediately, [ ].’

‘How the fuck?’

‘Because she is fucking smart. Because she knew, before God himself and, I lie, of course, before everyone in the fucking world that developers were paying the police in countries all over the world to silence the public about rampant, disgusting, and useless development, to deal with the export of the fucking, fucking, fucking, pretty Chinese women, due to the one child policy, honestly, fuck China with its overgrowth, fuck it, they deserve it.’

‘Why? Why do they?’

‘Even Loraine--.’

‘Even Loraine.’

‘Even Loraine can’t think of this--.’

‘It’s the Japanese.’

‘It’s the fucking Japanese, that’s right, because she heard it, and remembered, [ ], that is all, she is not all that well read and she is profoundly, profoundly, profoundly, channel blocked, and, despite her ignorance she loved, and she loved them so much, she actually believed my ruse that they were boyfriends, Jon Stewart—‘

‘Spells it right.’

‘—and Stephen Colbert—‘

‘She loves Stephen Colbert?’

‘She had her eye on him, Stephen Colbert from the get go, she found him so funny, and he is not as smart as Jon Stewart with his “international country,” and, honestly, Loraine, do you even know what that means?’

‘Of course, God, it would be free of immigration laws and anyone with money for real estate could live there.’

‘Exactly that. There, [ ], your little idiot, sister, who hears one, tiny thing and knows it is important.’

‘President Trump is chomping at the bit to say something, [ ].’

‘I have never seen stand downs as I have seen with her book, never, and, as, I’m sure, despite the office work—‘

‘Please, Mister, sorry, President Trump--.’

‘Slipping, [ ].’

‘Sorry. I have been to war. Even an administrator kills, and I have killed, and that is, that is, that is, a mark of, and a badge of honour for a soldier.’

‘Why, do you even remember, because your gun loving sister is a pacifist for one single reason which soldiers, and they are rampant readers of the book, rampant, because of one thing—‘

‘What the fuck? I know this, but why, across the fucking, fucking, fucking, world? Why? My soldiers said she said that girls were sluts and she defended men’s suffering relative to this, that is what they told me.’

‘Men at war noticed that she made one snide comment about “work and war” and men’s attempt to continual prove themselves as weaker, [ ], weaker, [ ], weaker [ ], was the upshot of her work, listen, I am the president. She was saying that men, faced with women’s, equally continual attempts to prove equality by trying to indicate that their silly little steno bullshit was as hard as men’s, truly, Loraine, because that is what they do, or they work in a fish factory, which is not as hard as women make it out to be, their hands do get cold, but they continually run them under hot water, and this, soft labour, men call it, is the two percent which women actually undertake, because nobody except Kate fucking Braid works in construction, nobody, and I want to raise something that Loraine noticed recently about a client who was a, and God says, and he says, Loraine—‘

‘I do, Loraine.’

‘—I am the president, kidding, Loraine, God says you can say what he does because molecular biologists are literally a dime an dozen, and this is what she noticed about a man with a virtual lifetime in construction, a virtual lifetime, from fourteen is when his dad taught him concrete, and concrete, Loraine, he lied, they often do, out of pride, he couldn’t fucking believe, honestly, not kidding, that she identified concrete on his shoes. And his embarrassed about lying, yes, he is, and she was, she was, [ ], further confused about the stiffness of his back, knowing somehow that concrete, flooring as it usually is, virtually always is, Loraine--.’

‘Loraine Laney, your sister—‘

‘I know who she is by now, [ ] [ ], and we are all getting a bit sick of singing her praises. And why?’

‘That’s what Mary Magdalene wanted to know, and the Virgin Mary, and I told, them, time and again, as I am doing now, that this live person is my best, my best, my best--.’

‘Better than 50 Cent whom you love so also, because you do with all his disgusting slutting--.’

‘You are judgemental, [ ], 50 Cent takes care of the women, rest assured, he is wonderful to them, offering them love or money.’

‘My sister is telling me, and the men tell me, to go and get a fucking blow job if I am afraid of diseases from a prostitute. My wife gets mad at me if I want a blow job.’

‘Loraine laughs, because that is the burden of the wife, and, as a wife, and, as a prostitute, she shares that burden, yes, she does, and she doesn’t have to, except with [ ], have to deal with come at all, and your wife does, and do you know, [ ], what a burden you are putting on your wife with this request, and do you even know what would solve it summarily? No, you don’t. Because you are a sex baby. Eminem has had more partners than you and he is a, according your sister, a phat baby, a whiny baby who overinvests in everyone.’

‘Get someone else to do it, I wanted to say, have an affair or something, alleviate her burden, because I do like them--.’

‘Use my name.’

‘John Hannon was right, the mouth is very soft. Do men like them more?’

‘Pimp the bitch,’ says 50 Cent.

‘My sister doesn’t like that.’

‘She will live. She will. Pimp the bitch and she will stick to your dick like glue.’

‘But I am the highest man with the most needs, she will abandon me for easier men.’

‘Okay, I will give you that, if you hadn’t married an astute little French Bonobo, as you call her—‘

‘Loraine.’

‘—who picked her man in full conscious, as Loraine did me. She trusts—‘

‘She trusts God, at least, [ ], give me that, and so does, Loraine, and she worries for me that another man will usurp me because I am an egomaniacal bugger and I don’t mind bigger dicks, there are few, but I don’t like smarter, smarter, smarter, Loraine, is what bugs me, because I am so hot, it is not even funny.’

‘Women are weird.’

‘You need more women. And I will go one step further, Loraine, on your vague prescription—‘

‘She has updated it.’

‘Not much, she vaguely, and uncommittedly stated that you should, probably, go first. Go to a woman first.’

‘Do it, [ ], I am so, so, so, jealous of men, it is the perfect way out, and you have said many times that a man feels like an impossible trap, and you are smart, and I believed your assessment with that, because, even with our numbers, they are always, always, always, going to be more invested in me.’

‘She told me to go and get a fucking blow job, today, 50 Cent, so your little, precious, Godly girl beat you to it, so suck on that, as she would say, and I think, I think, I think, I fucken well agree. I fucken do. And I will. [ ], my other, one, girlfriend, loved oral, loved it, and so did my wife.’

‘The women are for you—‘

‘Women, now, not woman.’

‘I don’t care about the women, I want the men so bad, I am dying, [ ], dying, [ ], dying, and you know I’m a horn dog for you, just trust God, at least, and take a step, I want [ ] badly, I do, I do, I do, when he comes for dinner, we are perfectly chaste, perfectly--.’

‘I know, wifey, I watch you like a hawk.’

‘And that is what we do, men we watch them, because our jealousy is worse, Loraine writes, she does, she took a stab at it—‘

‘She more than took a stab at it, 50 Cent, she wrote it with conviction and with back up data, with intellectual reason and logic, she did, fucking read the bitch, you piece of lying shit, read it.’

‘Oh, sorry, God.’

‘They have kidded you, Loraine, because they are lying, jealous, assholes, they have, they have listened, I lied, some of them have read it, and T.I. is one.’

‘Does your former boyfriend really like me, Loraine, because admiration of a male celebrity is an indication of homosexuality, it is.’

‘Shut up, [ ], Loraine is a true bisexual, and she will find Ellen DeGeneres attractive, a bit, if she fucking wants to, be not an idiot please, anymore.’

‘Sorry, God. She laughs at me.’

‘She, her mistake, was too smart for you, too bad, suck it up.’

‘She should have known.’

‘She didn’t.’

‘She thinks my balls are too small.’

‘She didn’t know for sure about testosterone, she feared, again, not a fundamental cruelty, she loved your dick and was in love, that has to be, that has to be, I am God, [ ], enough, it does. Moving on. And your wife will, she will enjoy up to twenty more per year, she will, there, present for ya.’

‘Ha ha, Loraine—‘

‘Again, you are stupid, [ ], if you actually think that 50 Cent will put up with, on average, a difference of less than twenty per year. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She doesn’t care, is how many, she will not close her fucking eyes, she will ask for the colour of their pubic hair if she feels like it, and she will, because she is ways pruriently curious, another thing people have mistaken for jealousy, because she jokes, almost, out of desire, at the least out of embarrassment, true, 50.’

‘Let her go, I am done with this bitch, and with her, primarily stupid family, they all sell you out in the end, Loraine, because they can’t understand, and I am smart, and I am a man, they can’t understand, and you won’t believe this, ignore, I like this, because it saves you punctuation and you have been writing solid, in Word, and are even unsure if all of this fucking bullshit will post properly, go back to bed, and ride out the last of your speed with me and your second husband, who always wants to chat with you, almost always.’

‘What, though?’

‘They both ask. What, though? What, though? She is almost asleep in her chair, what though is that you will have the time of your life with my big penis, you will, Loraine, you loved that one, women do, and you deserve it out of goodness, that is why. They cannot capitulate to the ten, they cannot, they cannot fucking believe a stupid, old whore is God’s favorite disciple, and that is why you get my big, fucking, dick, be good next time, and see how that goes, just see for a second what God finds you, just see, and, if nothing, then suck it up, because Loraine Laney won this time, she fucking well won the fucking well gender, fucking, war, folks, herself, single fucking handedly, done. And that is it. Rest, please. God?’

‘Yes, please, Loraine. And, make no mistake, [ ].’

‘How could I by now?’

‘Do not be a sarcastic, desperate, asshole.’

‘You are, [ ],’ says his wife. ‘[ ] and I, we do, Loraine, we pussy foot around his delicate sensibilities, and we just want to fuck fucking one time and have fun with him, that is what we both want and we have both told him this time and again, and perhaps 50’s and your, advice will work, I have said as much myself, because, having read the book, I get that that is what the money, and it is fun to have money, though not much, it greases the wheels, I know this as a working woman, and I do want to quit, or cut back for [ ], I do, and I’m going to, we are looking into it, because I like, like [ ], to sew and cook--.’

‘She does?’

‘I do everything,’ says [ ]. ‘Cook, clean a bit, we have a cleaner too, though, Loraine doesn’t, but she is home, and she doesn’t mind, we are assured by her mother, and, except for this place, her places, that we have seen and we have seen three, have been very clean and even tidy, despite what her [ ] warns us about, and no diseases are lurking, and she, even [ ], once assured us, upon serving cinnamon buns—‘

‘Delicious.’

‘Homemade. Whole wheat. With nice, cold, real butter, not mushy and soft, and bacon, and fucking blue berries—‘

‘Yummy, actually, good menu, once.’

‘She cooks for herself, you idiot, do you think single people eat out or something, they have even less money than most married couples.’

‘Again, an idiot who has had everything handed to her on a silver platter.’

‘I would, I would, I would, giggling Loraine, like to take this one, do you know that when [ ], for a short time, fumbled through office work for her [ ] business, decided it was too much work, as you did, let’s face it, she actually had the nerve to say to her [ ]—‘

‘I forgot you were the accountant.’

‘That’s right, and office manager, and hirer and firer. What did you think of her because I liked her crass style.’

‘She was a bit high and mighty over me.’

‘Oh. She thought you were an ugly loser.’

‘She was an ugly loser.’

‘Pay back’s a bitch.’

‘What pay back, she tried to steal my boyfriend, and I got rid of her.’

‘I was fourteen.’

‘She talked to him once, she had the nerve to speak to him. I thought she had some nerve so that was the last party I ever invited her to, and we had one more, and he dumped me anyway.’

‘As I said, pay back’s a bitch. She, actually, had the nerve to repeat this story at work, Loraine, and no

one could even make out what you had said, or even remember seeing you together. Did you speak to him?’

‘I don’t think so. But I felt he didn’t love her enough.’

‘As did we all, Loraine, she was kinda pretty, but pretty rough around the edges, and not that appealing to most men, I would say, seriously.’

‘I never married, Loraine, never, because of you, a whorey, little, kid. When I confronted him with this jealous bullshit--.’

‘Your jealous bullshit,’ says [ ], [ ], not [ ].

‘He looked at me like I had lost my mind, and said, “this shit is over, over, over, done with, I am done, I am not, even, kidding, do not even think of calling me ever again, a fourteen year old kid, get a fucking life,’ and that is a fucking, a fucking, a fucking, quote, so I knew it was true.’

‘[ ] said she was crazy, Loraine, and he was right, and, after that, he did the hiring and firing and his first hire was [ ], and he hated her for her popularity with the men. She is friendly, and good, and, too good, Loraine, and, I can tell you have heard something of this story, and would like to hear more, your [ ] told everyone that [ ] was disgusted with her work and shit or something, or hated that he had to hire a woman, or hated that she stole his precious, virginal, or something, son, your bitch, bat shit crazy [ ] started that rumour, Loraine, and did them both, them both, with all the men, with [ ] himself who thought himself weak for falling in love with a lovely, lovely, girl, at the time, woman now, sure she was chubby, so the fuck what? She is cute. She is cute. And we immediately loved her and she has always been part of the work family, and always a part of the family itself, as [ ]’s beloved, his beloved, I don’t know about this ruse with you, or why [ ] would even say something like he never loved her, which she repeated to you, she was an open book, her memory, did she repeat that to her stupid, gossipy, make shit up, [ ], God?’

‘No, actually. She told [ ], who is infinitely trustworthy and defended him immediately as any loving, forgiving, husband would. She was worried for [ ], and did not, did not, and I fucking repeat, did not have any hooks in [ ], none. She was never one to find affection for older men, she liked men her age.’

‘Despite defending it.’

‘Careful, [ ]. What she did, it is infinitely defensible, relationships of all ages, and all age permutations are thus, they are, just because older women don’t like it, doesn’t make it less true, but read the book, because even that feeling will ease, she is excellent at arguments, excellent.’

‘What argument for that?’

‘Men, do it, Loraine.’

‘Men were seeking younger and younger women in the hopes of finding innocence, in the face of promiscuity.’

‘Holy shit.’

‘Trust. Me. And I have indulged you long enough, and Loraine, is fucking wrecked, so I will cap off with this little lecture to her [ ], after six months fucking with, and that was true, what [ ] said--.’

‘Who’s [ ]?’

‘An artistic [ ] who set up their publicity, 50, and it was good, and [ ] bastardized it by overusing the mascot in a perfectly good calendar, severely overusing it, so that customers, and they were, Loraine, actually annoyed upon looking at it, because there wasn’t enough room, there wasn’t enough room, to write even a birthday from left to right. She said, and I quote, “[ ], and she would use formal language when pontificating, I have thought a lot about where I would like my life to go, I have, I have, I have, in this past six months--.’

‘I hired her, Loraine, [ ], again, said I was crazy for hiring my own [ ], and I see this lack of logic in myself, I do. He said, and I quote, because I am looking forward to this, and want to make it last, “She has never done a single thing except sling a few chocolates, what on earth do you think she will do for our business?’

‘I had no confidence in Loraine, either, and it didn’t bear out.’

‘But this did, and [ ] was much, maybe not smarter--.’

‘No, smarter,’ says God. ‘Much smarter than your own [ ], Loraine, much smarter, much smarter, much smarter, in fact, believe it, another seven billion, and he and [ ] have had many amazing talks, many, about any number of subjects, late into the night, because, after a nap, he will stay up, while the women folk are given to retire early, and they do, they sleep and sleep, the women in that family, except [ ], who has always, from a poor family, had to work--.’

‘What will Loraine do?’ asks 50 Cent.

‘What does it, no offence, 50, fucking look like?’

‘Oh.’

‘Don’t ruin my moment, 50 Cent, please, and she, after this precise introduction, drew herself up to her full height, and said, “And I have decided I want no life like yours, no life like yours,” and we have always been disgusted by her lack of syntax--.’

‘Well put, [ ].’

‘Correct?’

‘Fine.’

‘And she finished up by saying, “Dad says that all I can do is sling chocolates, jokingly, I know, but this is what I can do, I can do art, I can do art, like [ ] [ ],” after ruining her calendar for six, entire, months, six, entire, months, Loraine, while I taught you all you, she sucked, 50, she didn’t actually, she did more, badly, kidding again, she did what I asked her to do, filing is fucking nefarious, Loraine, she couldn’t find things and it bugged her to no end, it is for audits, good, Loraine, good word, ignore, no thanks required, she had a few simple tasks down in a few weeks which my [ ] could not apply herself to for more than five minutes, and again, with the full height, she literally drew herself up folks, and said, “You and [ ] work too fucking hard. I am going to swan. I am going to do art. That is what I am going to do. And I know men, I know them [ ], and I know this too, [ ], because I have tested it, I can get men to pay for me, and that is what I am going to do,” ignore, and she actually said, she actually, said, and you don’t know her Loraine, she actually said to her hard working, good mothering, great cook, lovely, Catholic, [ ], “I know men,” again with that, “I do, I do, I fucking do, and I can fuck good,” again with the syntax, “and I will make it on my pussy alone, I will, you watch me.” And I thought, well done, I thought well done, I thought well done, and I went home and quoted this to my [ ] who said, “I fucking told you, now fire her for impertinence.” And, within one month, one month, Loraine, she had somehow corralled a seven billion, like her [ ], into marriage, into fucking marriage, Loraine, after, and we knew this, we were a close, open minded, family, too open minded, though, I, myself, wasn’t particularly, and had to work to serve my [ ].’

‘As did I, [ ].’

‘Did, she doesn’t even do it anymore.’

‘You don’t either, he’s dead, and you’re rich, well done, too, mother.’

‘We were two poor kids, [ ]. Your father was rich by this point, [ ].’

‘So what. I’m rich now. So I did it, and you thought nothing of me, nothing, and, as I said, I used my hot pussy, and it was hot, he loved it--.’

‘As I said, Loraine. I can’t stand it, just stop, [ ], Loraine cannot believe her fucking ears. She can’t, and no she has never, her [ ] is an idiot, liar, and Loraine has never said anything of the sort, she fell back on prostitution out of desperation for some semblance of a sex life, bullshit, modern, judicious, quite honestly, dating, mostly, not screwing relentlessly on someone else’s dollar, as her [ ] was doing, Loraine, relentlessly, she had four diseases by fifteen, four. Loraine was thirty one when she contracted--.’

‘What herpes, like [ ], from [ ], when she acted like it was the other way around.’

‘It was me, Loraine, your [ ] was right, I was irresponsible, I was, giving it to [ ], too, which, because I lied, she did bare back, as they call it now, with me. I lied for her, to get her, as you say in the book. It can be well meaning, in a sense, but she cried, as you know, and it was evil, it was. I had no right, but I got her, and then rejected her, and this is why she pretended to screw in Australia, and I hear you pretended to screw in Whistler once, and casually written, let a bartender, who actually turned out to know [ ], the man, stalker loser himself, and his stupid, gay, idiot friend, we all saw them, Loraine, we all saw them, we all did, we were around Joey’s all the time, and those idiots would drive by in that little blue truck, circling, and circling, and circling aimlessly, and [ ] noticed them first, because she likes cars and actually had a loving family, and remembered his stupid, careless, cheating, idiot, face, and we watched you go down, and did nothing, nothing, nothing, also with the rapes, did. nothing. True, 50 Cent. And, you just suck it up when people get famous because you are jealous, and too bad, and [ ] is the most jealous, and she deserves fame the least, she has done. truly. nothing. If she doesn’t want to cook, they order out. If she doesn’t want to clean, she orders a maid, if she doesn’t want to screw, then, she just doesn’t, and she just doesn’t care, Loraine. She cares nothing, and I mean, nothing for the needs of others, even to the extent of blaming her own [ ]s for her failure to make it office work. “You didn’t support me,” she says, “over that” fucking, if you will, “calendar, so I had to get [ ] to marry me, I had to, that is what I had to do, I had to, and yes, I used my fucking hot pussy,” she says to her [ ]s one night at dinner alone without our partners, because it was a business meeting of sorts to discuss, you guessed it, you couldn’t possibly, the death and the estate of our father, which was, most generously, divided among his children and his wife, to, believe it, Loraine, he was the consummate businessman, with her permission, of course, save taxes, to save taxes, thanks Dad, for four million dollars each at such a young age, and she managed to squeak out a tear or two over a nice poem, while you cried more at your grandpa’s funeral, your grandma’s funeral, and no doubt you were too astonished by your [ ]’s lack of tears at the funeral of her own husband, to emote yourself--.’

‘She was heavily, heavily, heavily medicated on anti psychotics for mental psychosis, no thanks to anyone, heavily, and couldn’t [ ], and, true, it is then that she realized that she had never, ever, seen her [ ] cry, never, over anything, not death, not divorce, not her own studies of victimhood, not regret, not remorse, nor personal pain of any kind, because she is so consummately evil, that she cares for nothing and no one.’

‘To continue: “Yes, I used my fucking hot pussy, yes, I did, I fucking well had to, I had no job, no prospects of any kind, and a woman has to do what a woman has to do,” and we both, agreed later, thought of you at that moment, and your journal, your pain, your cops, your stalkers, and your prostitution, and realized that was an example of what a woman has to do, and said nothing. Cook your own goose, she never has, and she has four million too, for nothing, nothing, six months of nothing.—‘

‘What a burn,’ says 50 Cent. ‘Nothing yet, but I don’t need it, I’m rich.’

‘We know that 50 Cent.’

‘She is one of those gold diggers, looking to 50 Cent,’ says [ ], ‘sagely,’ adds God. ‘I was a wife whore at least,’ she continues. ‘I had to have sex once a week regardless, and that is what we did, after [ ] [ ], Loraine, when we were good and fucking drunk, and you did it too, so don’t judge me.’

‘She was fucking all day, her boyfriend had erectile dysfunction, he refused her suggestions all the time, a suggestion is all it takes for most men, Loraine, you have been wronged, sometimes obligation, sometimes desire, 50 Cent, rarely more than once a week, and she didn’t care. She sets herself up to get enough, and just watches the idiots come and go, watches them come and go, watches them come and go, yes, she fucking well does, and you are sex starved with your once, drunk, per week, [ ], sex starved, and you are bitter, yes, you are, yes, you are, yes, you are, and you, like, unlike, kidding [ ], locked. your. husband. down. With bitter retribution and tirades, Loraine, tirades, Loraine, about the, fantastically logical disgustingness of “whores.” So this is where that dinner ended, this is where it ended, and you have done amazingly, Loraine. You will be sore tomorrow and you won’t be able to post it or something, and you will be craving more drugs, and won’t have any, while your boyfriends live it up, ignore, shut up, please, [ ], this is where that dinner ended, with your name, your name, your name, your name in vain. And the pussy, the hot, the hottest, the hottest, pussy ever, actually, no, 50, she laughed to herself that you even considered for one second that she might be famous on pussy, laughed, 50.’

‘Oh.’

‘Rest assured, she saw it. You got over it fast, good for you.’

‘Thank you.’

‘To finish up, pussy again, as promised: “I am hot,” she told her two [ ]s, who were familiar with her antics in school and actually saw, actually saw, two men, men, Loraine, cry, from her cheating, lying, bullshit, over, guess what? Assumed fucking victimhood as you so precisely named it, not for hot pussy itself, but because, guess the fuck what? They got beat the fuck up by some idiots from another school for screwing a guy’s girlfriend, her, and she was no girlfriend of anybody, rest assured.’

‘I was hot. I was playing the field.’

‘You were playing the fool. And so, as promised, this is how it finishes up, after you cry at the funeral, cry, not over the death but over the loss of your [ ]’s first wife, who, also, was a rampant, disgusting, cheater, shut up, [ ], she knows me, she knows this is all true, who told others that they broke up because of [ ]’s cheating which never happened, and, believe it or not, Loraine, your little reputation as an honest woman and hooker preceded you, and both of your male [ ]s realized it was true, because you were awfully, fucking, earnest, and a little, it had to admitted, stupid, too stupid to lie well, for sure, with your bad memory, which they had as well, from aviation gas and e.Coli fumes actually, from bad bilges, not their own, which was always in tip top shape, because their [ ] was awesome, awesome, Loraine, awesome, and you loved him too, though you didn’t cry because you found their presentation a little jocular, quite frankly, and it confused you, twelve million dollars were on the table that very night, Loraine, and plans were already afoot. [ ] started his own mini shipping company, which failed, almost immediately, ignore, [ ] bought a fur coat, and [ ] sank one million into his business, to train his [ ]s, all of them, as mechanics, and he has reaped that reward handsomely, as has [ ] for investing in his own children, he has, Loraine, he does not get money out of [ ], but she pays her own way, he never has to loan her so much as a dime, fifteen thousand among three adults, who are so fucking cheap that they wouldn’t even spring for an education.’

‘Fuck.’

‘I’ll allow that. Those [ ] work hard, they fucking work, yes, they fucking well do, and they are gracious, and smart and excellent businessmen, she said nothing to anyone about being asked to leave, it was a small price to pay for a few moments with [ ], before she went to hospital again, a small price, and she stayed, and she paid it, and it was worth it, because [ ] admitted that he did not, seeing her bruise, think all that much of her dad. He did. And Loraine was glad, because she is fair, but he did, fucking, assault her, he did, and she would’ve got more time for biting him, so she didn’t while the sane people, the people who point the finger, walk away, that is how mental health works in Canada, that is what Loraine is up against folks, three, precious, idiots, who want nothing more than to shut her up about her horrific past, nothing more. Pimping, rape, and abuse, constantly, and she doesn’t even believe. She doesn’t. Ignore. But she knows that mental health is real, and that it is abuse, and that it has almost, fucking killed her, on a few, a few, a few, I am ignoring her, Loraine, because she looked like such a fucking idiot in her fur coat, long, in California, that all, all her, very hot, temperately hot, friends laughed, and she just simply threw it away, she threw it, a four thousand dollar coat, into the garbage actually, because she was embarrassed at their laughter, and had to show off, to win.’

‘One dug it out, and sold it, Loraine, and parlayed it into a small business in badges actually, which you, suspect, least, sell on eBay, because [ ]’s husband probably once sold, refusing to believe, also, that you, Loraine, might have something with “Hilary Clinton for President.” Funny. Just a joke for funsters. So, on we go, and good for you for dumping [ ], tonight, Loraine, he actually, actually, thought he had you back with that lie about men, he’s stupid.

‘Going on, the hot, the hot, the hot, hot, hot, pussy, and they had already heard about the hot pussy years before from their irate [ ], and so it goes, some twenty, idle, 50 Cent, fourteen hour sleeps every night, and no breakfast for hubby, “I’m sleeping, get your own, please, you pissed me off last night,” even, so, and even “fuck you.” So she says, and she fucking well says this: “I have been married to a jerk for so long that I can hardly even think straight, and I had options in school, school, Loraine, school, Loraine, one fingered you, one you sucked and to be fair, he sucked you too, one you fucked a little with his tiny penis, and finally, finally, at sixteen, you were sixteen with [ ], Loraine, not fifteen, that was your little, baby penis, virginity, Loraine.’

‘She’s a loser. We were all sluts.’

‘I’ll allow that. They weren’t, of course, it was quite a scene when two boys were beat up, and miss priss herself was hauled into the principals office.’

‘I’m glad you’re hearing this, Loraine, have you noticed she doesn’t even talk to you?’

‘Naw.’

‘Oh, so now that it is mentioned, that is a yes, never, not even hi, nothing, she is too fucking busy preening, and over her children too.’

‘I took her to Science World so she could see my home schooling.’

‘[ ] is stupid, and even [ ], who was five, could see the puzzles were too hard for her. Loraine doesn’t even pretend, 50, she hates games and puzzles.’

‘She’s stupid.’

‘As are you, which is what, as God, I was just saying.’

‘Isn’t he great, Loraine?’

‘Hmm.’

‘”I have been married to a fucking jerk for” whatever she said, “twenty” some whatever, I know but who cares, “years, and he fucking well smokes, do you even, fucking,” she loves the word fucking, properly enunciated, and even Loraine knows this, “realize how disgusting this is, when I have to kiss his disgusting, smoky, mouth, it is like licking the proverbial ashtray,” and Loraine doesn’t find it so, she actually kind of likes it, though she knows that smoking is not healthy, of course—.’

‘I will remember that when I smoke a cigar, Loraine, because, does she get horny over everything pertaining to me?’

‘Practically anything, 50 Cent, practically anything, seriously, she is hook, line, and sinker for your looks. She doesn’t need that, 50 Cent, you are an egomaniac, Loraine is not, she doesn’t much care if people like her looks, she just likes herself enough already. You do too, I’m kidding 50. He likes your little, bashed in, face too, Loraine, he does. And he is not an egomaniac, he is tongue in cheek, as you, as most artists, about fame, he’s amazing, and I even want him, and so is Eminem, and all the men, forgive the syntax. So we go, “it is, it is, it fucking is,” because they are laughing, [ ] smokes a little, Loraine, with [ ] even, who never said hi, though she often told her too, and all she had to do was go home to your place and say it, she thinks you don’t like her, 50 wants to know if you know a single, decent, person. No, she doesn’t, 50, and these, these, two, actually, and the [ ], and the [ ], are okay, just okay, and this is the fucking finale, Loraine, and you won’t believe it, but you will love it, love it, love it, she goes, “You know that little whore actually had the nerve to hit on my husband back when she was fourteen, and we invited her, out of the kindness of our hearts, to come and stay, we actually thought, stupidly, we see now, because she was useless.” “She was working at [ ] [ ], which you couldn’t even do,” says [ ]. “Yeah,” says [ ]. “She was a whore even then.” “We knew some of her classmates at work, she was practically a fucking virgin in school,” says [ ]. “Yeah,” says [ ], “young people, her age, who knew her well, girls, even, the mechanics asked, they had to know.” “Why, in the name of fuck, did they have to know? Did they want to get diseases too?” “She didn’t have diseases, she wasn’t screwing was the point, she had a nice boyfriend and a little bit of experience, she lost her virginity with one guy at fifteen, and he bragged about it.” He did, Loraine, because he was a loser, which your friend [ ] finally, finally, finally, found out, and Loraine is rarely mean but she accused the friend of ignoring, basically, that he was wearing the same sweater than he had been wearing throughout high school, in the eighties, at the high school reunion, to highlight, that if she had fucking well wanted him, she could have fucking well, had him, he was, and still was, that pathetically accessible. And she was a reporter at a well known rag, and made a little money, and got money, and a house from her parents estate, they were old, and her sister did too, and they did okay. Okay. Nothing great. And then, oops, old asignatura pendiente shows up, and within one week, he fucks her, dumps her ugly old ass, fucks her again, she is cursing that sweater comment, Loraine, because she realizes you were right, we was then, and still is, a loser.’

‘What did he do to her?’

‘He crossed his arms behind his head, with the condom on the bedside table, after she rode, you did, Loraine, the bus, kidding, no, it wasn’t her bike, to Cassiar, from the west side, and climbing in the window to avoid his parents, she was out the window again, in one second and on her way back home.’

‘She’s a classic,’ says her brother.

‘Do not, do not, do not, insult your horny wife, your precious sister has screwed about five hundred by now. Seriously. You have a good woman there, do not fuck her, ever. Her mother knows this, because she cried and cried over you, cried and cried, because there were no jobs in Victoria which would support a family, and you refused to move close to her and work, “in a factory,” as the French. “Maybe he doesn’t want to live in Ontario. The women are too big.” “I’m not too big.” “Kidding, [ ], he loves you, give him time, his mother left him and he is paranoid about your past.” “Seriously, it’s the past, I love him so much, so much.” “I know, honey, but he is a man, after all.” Typical French wisdom.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘No, you don’t, and there will be more, now that you are both up, not just her, and she knew you were evil, because she asked, but she thought I was lying about cheating, rusing, God doesn’t lie, as such, so, on we go: “She is, she is, she is, I know it, I feel it, that she is a fucking slut, way worse than me, do you know, she says, again, as though she hasn’t just said it, she, at fourteen, actually had the nerve to hit on [ ], my husband, she liked all the men, and everyone knew it--.’

‘Yes, she is, [ ], slut, but she was chaste, while you were dirty, do you understand the difference.’

‘What’s the difference now? She’s all diseased.’

‘Believe it or not, [ ], she has still had fewer diseases than you, three episodes, while you have had eight episodes of sexually transmitted diseases, so much for your “disgustingness of whores” theory, which [ ] knew was bullshit, from his [ ], who was worldly, Loraine, worldly, and went wherever he wanted and let his wife roam a bit too, so she wouldn’t be lonely and bored, and she was good, never giving more than she could handle, her husband could handle, or her family could handle, never, a few, fun, little blow jobs, which, quite honestly, [ ] heard about, and loved his [ ] still, and some sex, which he also heard about, and married a slut precisely so that he could live like his father, happily, and then ended up with a shrew, a harpy. Seriously, Loraine. So, blah, blah, he says, and this is what he says, “She stopped near me once, I guess, and she likes the band, she watched us play, we told her to, she never has any fun, her parents are fucking stupid, and fucking boring, her mother watches me drink wine.’

‘Truly, Loraine, a grown, totally independent, and unrelated, fucking, man.’

‘She watches Loraine’s substances like a hawk, she’s a fucking pain in the ass, honestly, and her father has a tantrum over something unrelated every time she enjoys a drink, yes, to answer your question, a single fucking drink, they give her a dried up chicken drumstick, a bit of potato, and I mean a bit, because they need the rest for tomorrow’s grand affair, he is not laughing now, no, he is not, Loraine, and a bit of salad with exactly iceberg lettuce, tomato, cucumber, and dressing, the same exact meal every time, about once per year, you think it’s more, but it is not, Loraine, it is not. Once per year. And for that she pays dearly for fifteen thousand dollars, it is like they bought her the fucking moon. Bail outs, while they were, exclusively fans, exclusively, responsible, for her failures, exclusively, even that one, Loraine, he even thought, he even thought, “I bet she fucks up her taxes, and I will have to pay something. Did he offer to help her, as [ ] did for the slinging chocolates job, which lasted exactly, Loraine, she shopped there, Loraine, she didn’t work there, she shopped with [ ]’s money, a lot, had a party every month or so, a grand one, with lots of food, and then dumped all those friends when they moved to California, while [ ] kept all of his, and she mooned over or two men in secret whom she met at her stupid, fucking, pointless, drumming class, which she did, explicitly, in her own, mind, to meet men, explicitly, Loraine, because she was bored while he was working. And he knew, because she would brightly, with a feigned naivete, which even your slutty friend, [ ], never tried, discuss their paddles. A paddle is what they drummed with, Loraine, so I am being a bit facetious, so, on again, the dinner now, again, the dinner now, again, so the food arrives, and it was Joey’s, and [ ] wasn’t there, so, kidding, so anyway, she makes up her mind to complain about the lobster bisque, which Loraine has tried, because she thought she would like lobster, but never had again, because it is disgusting, lobster bisque, is fundamentally gross, Loraine, it is fishy when boiled, as you now, yes, you do, pass, she eats lobster in Ontario because of [ ], who boiled it, and, though her oven, her oven, and she is a cook, has, pardon me, she uses the fucking stove top, is how she cooks, you fucking imbecile, not worked in a year in a half, used the oven herself, once he was gone, and liked it much better, much better, and didn’t even really hurt her hands, though he could make a fucking production over a ten minute steak, a fucking production, and then sit down and let her wash all the fucking, the fucking vegetables, you idiot, fucking dishes. The [ ]s are really, really, enjoying this, Loraine, because then, idiot [ ] adds, “and I must admit, sometimes she does look kind of pretty,” and he has, never, never, never, said, any such thing about any same age friends, fearing, fearing, and Loraine is no fool, [ ], no [ ], she knows the fear of woman, from a tiny, little imbecile in her own right, from the shelter who raised Loraine’s ire and her anxiety so much with her constant—.‘

‘Are you serious with this? You know this then? Men truly, truly, they fear women.’

‘She flirts all the time, [ ], as do you, you are a flirtatious little liar, and that is what you fucking well, are, you pretend to be from the fucking Walton’s, and all you are thinking about is dick, dick, dick, Loraine, right, his friends are so disgusted with her, she couldn’t get dick if her mouth was full, so guess who starts in their family, that’s right, it’s retribution time, Loraine, and he almost got beat up too, and yes, and they don’t know this, but [ ] did show up at Kits with a baseball bat, for one reason, he heard, he heard, Loraine, honestly, from an idiot at cadets, an idiot, jealous, slut like that other idiot, jealous, slut you know who shall remain nameless, that a girl, a girl, was planning to beat on you for this, Loraine, for being popular with men, with the cadets, without being a slut. “She’s a slut in secret,” she purportedly said, “And so she is going to take it for that too. She was scary, Loraine, a big, scary, idiot, and [ ] was prepared to hit a girl with a bat, for you, so thank him now please.’

‘Thank you, [ ].’

‘Were you scared?’

‘I wasn’t scared of you.’

‘She walked right on over, [ ], and I was swinging it, I was, it wasn’t in the fucking car, I was ready to defend this bitch, because months had gone by, Loraine, and I heard nothing of anything about her, and I had feelers out everywhere, I wanted her back, but it was over, the proverbial light went out of her eyes.’

‘Was there a light?’

‘Sometimes. The sneaking around, even at cadets, really bothered her, she was afraid of Hannon, for fraternization.’

‘Rightly so.’

‘Not so much with her because she had me, a sweet, singular, boyfriend, while he, he explained, had been tearing the militia off the cadet NCO’s, tearing, Loraine, when men pack, they will almost rape, you didn’t know that, did you?’

‘One will almost rape, of course she knows that, they studied, they heard about gang bang rapes in feminism, and that upset Loraine, while she didn’t fully, yet, understand that the gang bang itself was an her, orientation. [ ] wants to know how you turned his gay son, his formerly heterosexual son, who loved hockey, and ended up in art, back into a hockey loving fool again.

‘He’s going to join the team again, he is, I hugged him with tears in my eyes, he was so good, Loraine. How did this work do that, in your words.’

‘He recognized the gang bang as his orientation.’

‘What is this thing? Is he still gay, because he said he was, but then he started tearing off all of his gay clothes, and they were gay, Loraine, gay, as the ace of spades, and she was mad too, the harpy, I can’t leave her, she is useless, and she will get all my money, American law is a worse piece of shit than Canadian law.’

‘Why should I get less than half?’

‘Because you’ve done nothing. Nothing.’

‘So? Fuck that. I was stuck with you.’

‘Nothing. Case in point. Evil, Loraine, and now a zero, you didn’t know?’

‘We’ve chatted off and on for a year or so.’

‘Oh, that’s about how long.’

‘Oh.’

‘It’s a group of gay guys who group on one girl in a really degrading way, they do, and they love her as a husband loves a wife, but they have to do dirtier things than wives, even, and we know this, we do, because these are our fantasies.’

‘Do you still have a boyfriend?’

‘Yes, I do, and he is better. I got him right away, he missed me.’

‘But the clothes are gone. Same sex.’

‘We’re not going to homo out as much.’

‘We don’t. Without a woman, the men stick to, pardon the pun, about once a week or they feel too gay, and they, we, do prefer the presence of a woman most of the time, though there is freedom, and things do happen. We’re looking for more men first, we want at least five, in a house, and we are going to try and find a girl our age.’

‘Not a kid.’

‘Our age, [ ].’

‘Oh. Like a wife.’

‘Just like a wife. And she will, Loraine wants to stay home, and we want her to stay home.’

‘She is practically ready to retire, the way she is going.’

‘I don’t, I didn’t, want to lose my money, either, [ ],’ [ ] says. ‘Sugar daddy, once upon a time, yes, I was cheating, but I was open, visible, I mean.’

‘Running around?’

‘Taking out my girl, Loraine.’

‘Did I see you in Joey’s once? I hid. Business meeting?’

‘Perhaps, we were there several times.’

‘Not hiding, my wife is known as a tennis star at the club, and I am an, ardent, even, Loraine, tennis player, and a thirty year monogamist, who was tired of being left out, at the least, if not fully recognizing my rights as a husband. Seriously. I love Loraine immensely, and more and more, but she has started up again, and I believe that [ ]’s will too, we are too different, and that is that. I am devoted, a devoted, old, fool, a true monogamist, I believe now, and Loraine candidly assured me that we were wrong, wrong, wrong, for each other, all the while promising me that if I left my wife, I would find a wonderful woman. And I almost have, Loraine, I have laid eyes on a woman and she doesn’t sparkle, and nor do I, we are so serious about this meeting, we have met, and it was a fucking interview like no tomorrow, like no tomorrow, so you will be proud about this, because I said, “I know this has been hard, I realize this, but,” and I just said it, I just said, “but I really, really, really,” and we are outside at this point, at me the consummate idiot, let’s call it, has already bought the first, entire, Loraine, meal, and she says, “May I please interrupt you for a sec? Because I am afraid you are going to hurt me, and I would really, really,” and we both laughed, Loraine, and I said, “I shall continue then, I really, really, really, don’t want my next wife to be a slut, like this one is. I don’t. I have had enough. I want monogamy. I was perfect for thirty years, thirty, fucking years.” “Me too, [ ],” she says. “Say no more, I caved too, after twenty five years of near perfect service and devotion.” “Near perfect,” I said, “Because I want, fucking perfect.” “When I say near perfect, [ ], I mean I failed to make love a few times.” I laughed out loud, Loraine, and you know my joyful laugh, you know it well, yes, to answer your question, she brought me joy often often, often, and I laughed out loud with her many, many, times, and she still, etherwise, describes me as the best thing that ever happened to her, and though she resisted my love, told even me that she was forced to accept my love, I would not leave her, and that was that, she left me, for Ontario, to escape the police, I asked her for marriage, yes, I knew, yes, I believed, but my children at least, grown, I’m seventy two, handsome still, she is a little younger, Loraine, but not much, and she said, and I quote, “My husband is, was, we are breaking up, I told him I was going on a date today.” “Oh really? That spices things up a bit, I thought it was a roof, or something, I met her at the tennis club, just as you predicted I would. I don’t know her. People move around. And she says, “I had been at that tennis club exactly one day when I laid eyes on you, and I have to say, you have surprised me.” “I have to tell you, my thirty years were perfect, but my next six were fraught with unrequited, somewhat unrequited.” “A polygamist?” “A polygamist exactly, a prostitute I am almost ashamed to say, but I realize now that she was so settled by my company, that despite a few, and I mean a few, dates, with black men actually, and a mostly useless, pardon my judgement, prison—“ “Oh, useless to her, reformed.” “Yes, actually, but troubled, suicidal. I bought her a runabout and she would visit him and we had three satisfying years, and several fun moments before that.” “So she was peaceful for you.” “Honest as the day is long, she gave me one little spot and said, “I think it was me, [ ], and that was the extent of her “cheating”, and I used the air quotes, she was doubtful. “You trusted her, really?” “No, but, I have come to God recently, and he tells me that I was sorely, sorely, sorely mistaken when it came to her, but he forgives, and she forgave, daily, my misgivings,” and I misted up a little, “I’m a bit of a baby, I confess, and she soothed me immensely, my dealings with my wife, she knew when to keep quiet and just be quiet, instead of this constant cover up of another life.” She didn’t laugh, Loraine, she didn’t. No, she did not. She took my hand, and she said, “So you will be ready for what I have to tell you, we are attracted to each other, I feel, it was instantaneous hard on for me, and I know I am pretty.” “She is, Loraine, finally a woman pretty enough for me,” and Loraine saw her in her mind’s eye, so I started to look, “the psychic connection between people,” struck me, Loraine, and that is exactly where I went with it, that I was, I’m a devoted, old bastard, and I went right to what people need from me, as did Loraine. “What did she mean?” She meant the fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking, and I don’t swear, I am in business, I have a little roofing business, learned from my [ ], taught my [ ], and they are awesome, Loraine, and--.’ “Who is this fucking guy, Loraine, a little, handsome, roofer?” says [ ]. I need a new roof. Is this the handsome man whom the [ ] referenced in the office? You’re crying for him, you truly love him, you want the best for him, those are happy tears. Why? What did he do that was so great when you were going down?” “We visited three times a week, why does she love you, she would never shed a tear over her own family, she loves, she loves, she loves, this guy.” “Try and summarize, Loraine, and let’s move on.” “You try and summarize, Lord.” “You are being impertinent. I am teasing her, you don’t you do not sum up [ ], he is a perfect man, perfect, and, you forget, Loraine, why you loved, and love him so much, but he came up a perfect ten.” “Oh, I see,” says [ ]. “Ten love.” “Funny, [ ]. We are not tens. We are eights, me and [ ], and my [ ] is a nine. We are good.” “Awesome.” “We hated our little, we don’t know what it is called either, funeral chat, we summed it up as, we loved our [ ], but we were so excited about the money, we wished we knew after, but he did that on purpose, he was crafty.” “If it’s any comfort, my father was ecstatic when his father died.” “I was. I was, point of face, ridiculously happy, because I was tired of visiting him and I wanted the money.” “He was, is his last days, difficult, Loraine, as you no doubt heard and were scared to return.” “True. Sorry.” “You felt bad.” “Quite, very, bad.” “[ ] will sabotage.” “Yes,” says Patrick Crean in heaven, “she waited until I was in a coma to tell Loraine to fly home, and that is what she did, and, though it was a rude surprise, she knew, she knew, she knew, that she had done it on purpose, and I had confirmation of that from God, confirmation, don’t even ask her, she fucking well knew her bitch [ ] had done it on purpose. And she did. She did. So that’s that.” “So,” [ ], “let’s go on,” says God. “Let’s do, [ ], Loraine must sleep, she has been awake two days on speed.” “Oh, sorry, drug addict, I shall continue, and let you sleep, don’t go back, just listen, and look, and this is what she says about her prettiness, Loraine, she was self effacing, but she knew that I had noticed her immediately, so she says, not coyly, “Do you honestly, honestly, honestly, think I’m pretty enough for you for marriage, because I hate to date.” “And I laughed again. “Not to go on about her, because I am good, and she is okay, I see her Dad around.” “Oh, you do.” “She had a terrible, fucking, life, terrible, fucking, fucking, fucking, and I promise to stop crying and swearing when you marry me--.” And she laughs again, a huge, fucking guffaw, “Well, we are transparent,” she says, shyly. “I told myself that I deserved to find someone before being alone, and I am not alone, I want you to know that.” “Nor am I and although, she suggested otherwise, I felt strongly about that, and she ultimately, she always supported me.” “This woman is very important to you.” “Is there someone like that for you? I ask, a bit jealous.” “No one, absolutely no one, and, like your description of your wife, we were severely wrongly matched in terms of poly, no, [ ], this was new, a new concept, and he fell into it immediately, while I knew it wasn’t me, I had no desires whatsoever, except for him, and I am not obsessed with him.” “That’s what I was wondering, because she had an important lover once, and she cried a lot, which hurt.” “I have not cried in years, [ ], years, there is no pain, he does what he wants, we sometimes have a drink, we haven’t had sex in eight months and I am ready to move on.” “I feel such a man compared to you.” “I want that,” she says. “It pleases me that you found some love in the face of the cheating, he was horrible to me with lovers, insofar as they were always more adored, more loved, than I, but he never, never, to the best of my knowledge, cheated.” “Did that make it worse?” “Absolutely not, [ ], everyone knows now, therapists all agree—.” “I don’t do therapy, I just cry, and paint a room.” And she laughs again. “You really help your kids, that is around the club already the cohesion in your family.” “I see your question and I’m ready, my little—“ “Little? How young? Should I be worried, even she saw an older wife for me.” “I can’t believe this. A little voice told me to join that tennis club and I have been living in Vancouver for seventeen years. Who is this fantastic woman? She saw me, in ESP, like?” “Just the other day, we were talking—“ “Should I be worried?” “Would you want a man like me to say such a thing is over? Was over? She was good to me, unlike my wife, and I will always, always love her for it, and, I haven’t mentioned, I did, three times, ask her for marriage.” “And she said, no, too poly, good woman. This reassures me, [ ], it does, I wouldn’t want a careless, man. Was she ever, ever, ever careless to you? No? How do you know?” “God.” “Oh, God, so, and she twinkles up, God is a part of this, God, even, and I am, also now, a deeply religious woman, and I am not a pain in the ass at all, we don’t even have to go to church.” “I wouldn’t mind. I honestly wouldn’t mind. I don’t want to be all churchy, though, I would probably start donating to the choir and I have my hands full with children, which, brings us to, and I kind of hope it is a yes.” “One, devoted, daughter, who lives in [ ]—“ “Oh no.” “You are hilarious, [ ], I am seriously killing myself here. I have to ask, because, I must admit, I don’t care much about your nefarious, and she says my word, remember my word?” “Circumspect.” “And I knew I was using it wrong, and I finally looked it up, but it sounds like what it’s not, so I fucked up. She says circumspect, and, by now, I know she is using it wrong, so I say that she is using it wrong, and she says, “You are fucking right, I always do that with circumspect too, suffice to say, wife, I hate cheaters, [ ], and I respect my husband for that at least, though there were surprises.” “Oh,” I say. “Blow jobs on men, for example, a little shocking when you are still making love.” “I am so monogamous, my mother was a good woman, she got around a little—“ “On your dad.” “They split, and mother, my beloved mother raised us, my sister, deceased, older, cancer.” “Do you want to go back inside?” “And I am so cynical about money and laziness, as I was with you, but Loraine is not lazy, she got in shape for the wedding, Loraine, because her stupid, idiot, new, boyfriend was there, and then gleamed at him the whole time, it was disgusting, Loraine was always curious about men, even my [ ]s, but never gleeful, and disgusting, because I would, in my inimitable way, reign her in, and she was fine with that, I wasn’t compromising her spirit, I was caring for her.” “Oh, I see.” “She didn’t balk and protest?” “I asked little, but so did she, I realize now, honestly, there is no one, no one, no one, on her side, no one, and I felt there was little I could do.” “Was she asking for the moon?” “She asked nothing and was grateful for a cup of fucking coffee.” “Will you be able to get over this woman? When was this? Yesterday, or something, where is she, all jealous,” she says. “And I am loving this, because I hate people who won’t admit to jealousy.” “Does Loraine?” “She didn’t need to, I never made her jealous. Were you jealous of those gross, rude, Chinese Japanese girls, I formerly lauded after they short changed my girlfriend, because you said, “I doubt it,” quite sourly, “when I said she would be impressed, their eyes were shining at me, and dead when my girlfriend arrived, dead, 50 Cent, they hated her, hated her, and gave her nothing for a hundred and fifty bucks, each for about thirty five minutes.” “You’re funny, [ ], they’re shysters, those travelling girls.” “She told us about them and how frustrated she was, she would have been fine, she, I would, to interrupt, feel very cynical about your positivity where her bisexuality was concerned, I would argue.” “Oh, I thought she was sour which wasn’t like her.” “He’s right. I really expected no whore to impress me, and that was it, I never saw an impressive whore in my life.” “Never?” “Even at the parlour.” “You would be it, Amanda.” “It?” “What about [ ]?” “She was too sad. She was perishing in there, fucking perishing.” “As were you.” “Give me a break, Amanda, she lasted about three months.” “I know, we all, all, all, all, fucking hated the competition, Loraine was right in her book, and competition was it and the parlour was the worst of it, for women, over pussy, face, and money.” “Exactly that,”says 50 Cent. “Independents are a fucking sweet, sweet, relief after those places. When you get up the guts, kidding, girls. So, please, go on, [ ].” “She wondered, she’s a teacher, Loraine, in Whistler, and she was laughing, and laughing over that. But then she sobers up, and she says, I really want to know what I should worry about with this woman, this almost girl?” “No, in her forties.” “That’s okay. She was so cool, that you made an exception, because I believe in age—“ “Her boyfriend, her latest—“ “The wife now, your tone changes, your demeanor, everything,” she is shocked, shocked, Loraine. “And she says, I really fucking like you, you are really, really something, and so am I, I will have you know. I am a ten with God. That is what I am. That is what I am. What are you? I have been with God since twenty nine.” “I am glad we are broaching this,” still standing outside, and, you know me, it is getting a bit cold, so I suggest a coffee. “And she says, yes, absolutely, only I’m buying.” “No, I’m buying, because I’m very impressed with you, and—“ “Are you?” she says, completely unflirtatiously, “because around then I lose them, I lose them, but I suspect you are truly with God.” “You are as banal, no, wrong, my English is nothing to write home about.” “I hope I not banal.” “Bold faced as my girlfriend.” “Why do you say girlfriend instead hooker, whore or mistress? Because he did that, and it didn’t bother me, nor impress me as his wife, as a tool of distance.” “Did you just say “tool of distance? And this is what we are getting to, Loraine, because I say, “Did you just read a book called Bros Before Hos The Equality Apocalypse?” “Why yes, oh no, why? Did you hate it, as a man or something I can’t fathom, because, as a submissive, and caring, and loving, and faithful woman, I was very impressed with her.” “And now you know why I can’t shake her? She laughs, Loraine.” “The girlfriend? We are going to have to send a donation, and I think I might, I honestly think I might, my husband wouldn’t read it, didn’t trust me as a monogamist, he thought it would hurt his polygamy, which kind of disgusted me, that he didn’t even trust me after all these years, I’ve never recommended a book, any book, let alone a weird, poly supportive, .pdf file from the internet. So we know her. Oh, [ ], I think I’m having feelings for you, weird and wonderful feelings, I can hardly believe this, and I am not as old as you, I look young but I am sixty six, and I think we are wonderfully suited.” “She always thought she was pretty, Loraine, she did, and she was the entire time, bolstering her ego with--.” “Dick, is the word,” says God. “Dick will do it. It will. Do too many and you think the sun shines out of the moon of your asshole. I do not joke, and I’m God, and I can be funny, but women must recognize when dick is just dick, it does not reflect the perfection of their existence. Women are men are both indiscriminate.” “That’s what I thought, but then when I went to my first whore, I thought I must be dreaming she impressed me so much, [ ]—“ “You were impressed with the Chinese, Japanese, suitcases?” “Galore.” “Rush in, rush out, get everyone, and don’t stick around to deal with lax returns, they are so lame, if they have a good day with coke, everyone is all smiles, but a bad day with girls is like a cloudy day at the beach, and that’s what Loraine, got, because she was cute, I’ll bet, and they were jealous.” “She was cute with her older suitor, not some haggard, old, bag, like that one on my website. It’s an ad, and a tacky, better, tacky one.” “We might, and I say, we, Loraine, because we went for coffee and it was like old home week, and I know, I know, you are happy for me, you would have been saddled with me, I see that, I saw it then, but I want to thank you and the book for one thing “the psychic connection between people” because I realized—“ “Did you get that from me, Loraine?” asks Sharon Driscoll, “anything of this brilliance?” “No, she did not, she got dignity, which didn’t make it into the book because it was too obvious and not obvious enough, like 50 Cent, the spoken word is not all Loraine believes in, despite her disappointment with it, she actually has tremendous psychic powers, tremendous powers, you can spot an other denigrating, selfish, asshole, about a mile away, you can, and when you put words in their mouth, the words on their lips, into the air, they fucken nearly die, Loraine, they nearly die of shock, and it happened to your blond friend [ ] so many times with you and others, that she finally just stopped being cynical around you, because it was boring and predictable, you were never shocked, you were always ready for whatever, gross, idiotic, asshole, passed your way, often, Loraine, so often, Loraine, and you know this, and despite your baby admonition of [ ], who doesn’t want his real name used, because he does want his real name used, so use, it, honestly, Cazzy, “She told me that if I didn’t say things out loud, nobody would know what I was thinking, and, though, because of my Mom, she is weird and cool and troublesome and noisy, but she is better than ever, better than ever, with her close swingers club, and they don’t care, they like a lot of variety, and they will meet new swingers in Australia, where they are going to live in a few years when her new husband’s contract has ended.” “Homely, would be better than ugly, Amanda, better, he is not ugly, and he does love you so, so please don’t denigrate her.” “You couldn’t give her that.” “I wouldn’t want her to and she didn’t really want to either, she needed an erstwhile—“ “A once in a while girlfriend, not a live in, as is evidenced by, but she truly didn’t know, she truly didn’t, I doubt most women—“ “Wrong,” says God. “Many do, Amanda, and Loraine was definitely not one, but nor does she fantasize, abandonment, you are right, Loraine, about anyone she knows, ever. [ ], three times it was, Loraine, over a, a single come shot, which was unrepeatable because he didn’t like it.” “Are you serious? You like that shit? I do not, I do not, I do not do come shots.” “Neither, really, does she, Amanda, she wants you to use her real name, Loraine, and so does her son, they are both writers of a sort, Cazzy professionally, and Amanda on Facebook, and she does it, she does it, she reveals herself, though you find her boring. I find her boring, not on the blog though, we all, the old friends, and even [ ] has seen it, though he was hurt by the relentless nothingness of the stalking, they couldn’t fathom your rage, Loraine, and thought you would eventually call or something.” “Call fucking who?” says God. “The idiot who used her, or his idiot friend, or the idiot who was screaming, or the police maybe, or the bird calls, or the fucking fire department.” “The joke was that, every time there was a marked car, it was Loraine who had called them, because she admitted to calling cops on her own father.” “Who uttered a fucking death threat, you idiot, after she had been tortured relentlessly by [ ], her equally idiotic, lying and cheating transsexual, who had to be woman, just had to be a woman, though she knew, and she knew, Loraine, that she was buttering her bread on both sides with you, because you, idiot, brought her fucking flowers once, leave him, and then bodily removed from the apartment for removing her ugly pictures from her own, her own, her own.” “It was my house.” “This is what I wanted to get to [ ], and that is what made you the man. Not a fucking woman, a fucking controlling, piece of shit, asshole of a man, who virtually, virtually forced, you into sleeping in her fucking bed, when you wanted to sleep on her precious fucking couch which couldn’t even be covered with a clean sheet.” “Why was she there anyways—“ “Anyways, Amanda, is that what your “voice coach” taught you?” “Fuck you have idiotic friends, Loraine.” “Loraine has no one, 50 Cent, ever do not, do not, do not, accuse this woman of mistaking these idiots for friends, she is not, that, fucking, stupid, Amanda was an idiot she slept with twice when she thought she was a nice, married, woman.” “And she was a nice, whore.” “She wasn’t a whore, you imbecile, she had slept with fewer people than you had stroked with your right hand, and that hand was busy, Loraine, those tits and that hand were well employed at school, and your little, fun loving [ ] paid the price for that, yes, he did, yes, he did, almost got beat up himself, yes, he fucking well did.” “So [ ] throws her out, invites her back in, and Loraine starts packing, and sets to—“ “Because she was evicted for prostitution while giving hand jobs, Amanda.” “Fuck you, God. You didn’t say you were going to make me look bad in front of my new husband.” “He is not even her husband. They are engaged. And, he, if things go according to plan—“ “I’m going to marry you right away, Loraine, like your old friend [ ], and his new wife to be, and the significant others, I’m going to help him along, because he, kidding [ ], can drag out a story, have already been advised, and his wife’s nice, little, life of cheating, debauchery, and nothing, no cleaning certainly, no cooking hardly—“ “Honestly, [ ], those soups were her sister’s and her mother’s, just spell it out, she deserves it, the impact on my business has been tremendous, and, there was more than one thing, much more, and we might, we might, we might, send you a small donation when we get married, not only for the book, but for the blog, because we—“ “You don’t need to, [ ], honestly, Loraine is right, you and your new wife are the last people who should be sending money to her, the honestly fucking last, don’t get over her, just enjoy your new life and the comfort the book brings, do it, [ ].” “But she needs me.” “She is more worried about the shit you will have to give your wife, [ ], and it will be bad, as would the dish for [ ].” “Fuck [ ], he is a pussy, and he will never leave me.” “Tell me about this woman, Loraine.” “Cute as a fucking button, you know what her pathetic attitude, her constant nagging, don’t brush your teeth in the sink, your nudity bothers me, relentlessly on these two things, God? Honestly, the bitch, never, never, never, never, [ ], shut the fuck up, she never did, and I saw her bloody, cute little perfect tits but my nudity, while changing, slowly, fuck her, it’s my bedroom too, if I need to dry the fuck off or something, and she would race down to the desk and report me for shit, I have no fucking idea, I wasn’t asking, my anxiety, yes, earned her in prostitution, prostitution with her stuck up bullshit?” “What?” “God wants it, because he told her, fifteen thousand dollars per, wrong, month, per year, [ ], Loraine was twice as ugly, fatter, and making three times as much, she was a dogged, fucking idiot who got a bedroom for her trouble, which she is still in by the way, and they won’t let her work there, so she is now surviving, Loraine, on cigarette butts, seriously, it is a cruel, fucking world, but, I don’t care who you are, even a social worker does not condone restrictions around tooth brushing in communal sinks. The toilets were in there.” “The baths.” “They were fucking full sometimes.” “Loraine, and she had good, several, actually, roommates, good ones, that got along okay with, but, Loraine, honestly, thought she would actually either bust a nut with this bitch, she was fucking cute, and she didn’t wash, and she would come back from the shower smelling like hay, hay, not fucking soap, she would damp herself, and not wash her stupid crotch, which Loraine didn’t notice at all, though she had it out, plenty, in revenge, preening herself in front of Loraine. What do you even fucking mean was it a bisexual thing, the thing was an idiot like your idiot, preening, bitching, harping, constantly, until Loraine thought she would either bust a nut, or have a fucking heart attack.” “Have a fucking heart attack?” “Because I know this feeling, Loraine, and I couldn’t believe you knew the fear of women.” “This, and she knew this particular woman would someday make her relatable to men, because she recognized as a male, a male, a male, fear of women and, when she spoke of her, once, to someone, I don’t remember who, and you did, Loraine, no, not to staff, Loraine got a reputation as an exemplary tenant, and then, when they had enough of that, a big, massive, bitch of an accountant, went right into her, now private room, which they thought they would try and screw her with a pissy, shitty, vomity, no really, [ ], room, where the sun damage was remarkable—‘

‘That’s right, Mister five billion, forty degrees it was, Loraine, forty, and do you think they didn’t realize that without the curtains, no curtains, bird’s eye view from two busy restaurants—“ “What did she do?” “What did she do? She got naked, hung a fucking blanket and drank some beer. She shoved, violently shoved a piece of furniture, next to the bed, so close to the bed, that it could be constituted as an attempted assault, truly, [ ], you think I lie, those bitches, all of them, hated Loraine, because everyone bitched, about everyone, except Loraine, nobody, and I mean nobody, had anything hard and fast against Loraine, and the bitches were raping each other for space, Loraine, raping for anything resembling a chair or a couch or a bed which didn’t reek of old sheets, or shit, or hair, or vomit or contained someone’s food, or whatever. God decrees that that shelter, unlike the men’s, Loraine, was a fucking, a fucking, a fucking, health hazard, yes, it was, yes, it was, yes, it was, I want you to go to bed for two hours, Loraine, please, I was kidding, we will finish. Honestly, you are a trooper, and you don’t know it but you are helping people you are.’

‘So, on we go, and we apologize now, for the poor punctuation, but, Loraine, and you are exhausted, and now have another, maybe, appointment, because no showed last time, no showed, kidding, [ ], that is part of business, though Loraine does get piqued a little when it is, rarely, repetitive.’ ‘How piqued? Does she yell?’ ‘Oh my God, you are damaged goods, [ ], Loraine doesn’t how to yell, she doesn’t, she doesn’t, she doesn’t, she doesn’t.

‘“This is why, I would wager a bet that the men, the mechanics—“ “Why is it always the men with you?” she said, vehemently. “Why? Why? Why? You are fucked, all of you, fucked, and this is why, they are [ ]’s workers, they are not any kind of men, and you would do well, the both of you, to keep some distance from them, because now we are millionaires, millionaires, my husband, I believe, is already a millionaire,” and they tried not to laugh, Loraine, and their eyes flicked because they become adept and communicating with a flick of an eye, an upturn, and that is it, because any kind of head turn would elicit the following, “Fuck you for looking at each other behind my back, fuck the two of you, fuck the two of you, fuck the two of you, fuck the two of you, fuck the pair of you, and your fucking illicit bullshit.” And they would laugh, because, you are, no doubt, aware, Loraine, no doubt, that illicit is sexual, exclusively, which even [ ] knew, as she asked your [ ], “Is she doing anything illicit?” And was lied to, was lied to, which, as a point to the listener, disgusted you because, precisely because she was having trouble with senility, which is a lie of old people, Loraine, who would rather listen to the ether, and die, than listen to their idiot children.” “Are serious, Loraine?” “She made you recant it.” “Yes.” “Don’t tell [ ] something like that.” “Yes.” “Angrily?” “In all seriousness, without explanation.” “And it, I’m sorry but I loved my [ ], she was gentle like me, though I’m big, and a submissive woman, and was nothing if willful, nothing, Loraine, she and [ ] had important talks, money talks, all the time, and we had turned to each other for nothing if not to laugh over [ ], so when I heard from [ ] that you’re face had clouded, and you had had to lie, I was disgusted for you, because we knew you had a nice kinship with [ ], and we never saw ‘Tiny,’ your little poem, but we’ve heard you recite it on the ether, nice, Loraine, a pretty ‘fuck you, [ ],’ which this, also is, Loraine, well done, and good job on [ ], she always wanted to be famous.”’

‘So the story goes on and Loraine is struggling with punctuation and exhaustion. Exhaustion from no sleep, on speed, for two days now, except a little lie, yes, and she knows it’s foolhardy, but she still does it, because she loves to work for me now.’

‘”This is what I have to say about men,” and she spits it, spits it, spits it, and again, the flick of the eye, “they are selfish and disgusting with no--” kidding, Loraine, she did not say that, Loraine, she said, nope, not that either, she said, “They love my pussy,” Loraine, “they love it, they fucking, well, love it,” Loraine. “And I am hot, yes, I am, and I’m pretty.” “Is she pretty?” says 50 Cent. “She’s a solid six, 50 Cent.” “Oh. From birth?” “Loraine was prettier from birth, and she has no such delusions about a wet pussy, none, nor her own face, which frankly, men feel, despite the nose, Loraine, and said as much, is prettier still than hers. Really, Loraine, really, Loraine. We will just get through this dinner. And then you will lie down till your next appointment, your hair will be fine, wet now, and, I know you wonder why I am doing you with copious detail, and this is why, because, now, finally, [ ] wants to know why you are doing her, and we are going to answer that now, now, Loraine, not.”’

‘Going on, “[ ] says to [ ] next, “I love my dick, too, and so does my wife.” And [ ] laughs, “really? Because my wife doesn’t always like mine, sometimes it’s too persistent, and she gets tired.” “Did Loraine think I was weird for telling her that my wife wouldn’t give me a blow job?” “Your current wife?” [ ] wants to know. “No, my first wife, who cheated by the way.” “Are you serious? And my wife is asking, so I’m lucky, and waiting, sorry wifey, patiently.” Sighs. “It’s okay, honey, go get that blow job, please, please, please, please, do it next time you are in Ottawa, go to your sister, joking, of course.” “Don’t be gross. I will, wifey, I will, wifey, I will for sure, I have somebody in mind already whom the men say is good, not great, but decent, and kind.” “Why not great? Go to somebody great.” “Really?” “Really, silly, I get [ ], after all, and I will let him penetrate me, [ ], it is the only eroticism in it with a condom, it is.” “I see, wifey. I will then. There is another woman who is really good, and loves it, even safely, and that’s what I would have. I’m good, Loraine, I’m hard like [ ], I am, and I’m not confident, but I’m not a loser.” “And so, dovetail, this is where it goes now. “You two, are monogamous, as am I, but I was busy in high school, busy in high school, the men, and they were men,” and they try not to laugh again, seriously, Loraine, because it will erupt in a restaurant and they know this, they know this, she has had tantrums, on the family dinner, and walked out with nowhere to go but back home, and her [ ]s were there, there, Loraine, without their [ ] around suddenly, and wondering, and [ ] himself wondered, at five, is she actually going to storm around when she returns, like she does at home? Around [ ] [ ] and [ ] [ ]? Because [ ] stopped going home, Loraine, and she didn’t even have the presence of mind to wonder why. He wanted to watch some hockey without her fighting—“ “That’s what Amanda would do too, Loraine, not walk around naked but walk in front of the TV, fighting,” says [ ]. “And I just, since we are here, want to thank you for breaking up my marriage because I am happier, much happier, and thank you for laughing at “Whose fault is that?” because my son is funny with me, and we love each other so much more now. She used to rail at me for sitting with him, and doing things, like colouring, saying I was lazy and shit, seriously, Loraine, these sluts got so big for their britches with dick, as God says, that there was no room left for vagina. Seriously. And that’s my own. You can use it.” “Very well said, [ ], very well, said,” says my brother. “And thank you for being in touch with him, now he realizes that you loved him for real as a child, because you take a minute to think about him now.” “Thanks, [ ].” “Did it hurt?” “It coloured her view of mothers, losing Cazzy, yes, it did, she thought of him as a lost, associated, child, a friend, more than she thought of Amanda, more Amanda, you gave her nothing, nothing, nothing.” “I gave her my men.” “They left you for her because, save [ ], she was better. She didn’t lie, she didn’t cheat.” “She had no one to cheat on.” “Okay, Amanda, whatever it is you think you had with [ ], you didn’t have, you didn’t have, he used you, you idiot, Loraine was his girlfriend, and he was, for a short time, more in love with her than he ever was with you, he knew you, don’t forget, and he was disgusted, disgusted, disgusted—“ “Why did he screw me then? For fun? For idiocy? For love, that’s what we had, love, and Loraine saw it and she was so jealous.” “You’re deluded, Amanda, it was, at best, poignant for her—“ “That look, that crestfallen look was poignancy. You forget that Loraine took that picture, Amanda, you forget that she was wielding a camera and a phone. And it is a glorious picture, she is good, you will like her photos of the family,” says God. “Really?” says 50 Cent. “Really?” he says. “What, what on earth does she do right?” “Candids.” “She sent some to us once and we were devastated by her take on our family, she made us look loving, and giving, and full of life, seriously, we couldn’t fucking believe it, and at first [ ] was confused, because he didn’t understand why little Loraine was tying up his email with so many pictures.” “Laughs. You sent them to his work?” “That was our email.” And they were so good, all of them, after an hour, Loraine, and he didn’t care, he opened one and got curious, thinking they would be of you somehow, but they were all of us, and they weren’t like that garbage her [ ] takes where she lines everyone up to grandstand, we hardly, hardly, hardly, even noticed she was taking them. And [ ] still uses that picture on her Facebook, Loraine, it was radiant, a somewhat lesbian, our bisexual Loraine enjoyed her.” “Oh, I see. I hope she enjoys my lesbians.” “Funny, 50 Cent.” “This is what I thought,” says [ ], “after an hour of sending and receiving, and she had shaw, and it worked, it didn’t get stuck, and the camera was not high resolution, I thought, this crazy bitch loves us more than her own [ ] does. More. The pictures are about her being the center, your pictures were about us being the center, we have sunny parties in the yard a lot, Loraine, and they were the nicest addition to a party, that anyone had ever given me, honestly, a few drunken line ups, later—“ “Enough.” “One more thing.” She included no pictures, I noticed, of either her [ ] or herself. None. We could have held the camera, she was giving us a gift of her perception. It was so cool. And I am a seven billion too, Loraine, and [ ] is a six billion, and so is my wife, and so is my daughter.” “Wow.” “What are you?” “Brain dead,” says God. “She is. Her [ ] killed her brain cells.” “Originally.” “A four billion, and, it is not unusual for high intellectuals—“ “He laughs, the highest intellectual you were going to say, the top one percent, are you fucking kidding me, because that is what I saw in those pictures, a high, high, intellectual, and there are a lot of fucking pictures on construction sites, a lot of fucking pictures, for fun and liability. I laughed about your client with the stiff back, and that it was concrete, Loraine. That is concrete, Loraine, and the dusty, stuck on boots.” “Not too stuck on, she was confused, but I lied, and now I can’t take it back, we are doing concrete for the embassy, and that’s why I described some stupid shit that she would never know, baby idiot. My stiff back alright, in your pussy, Loraine, she liked it, she did.” “Really? Kidding, Loraine. They are cool with hos, construction workers, they are, they go, they’re nice, they smell nice, and that’s it, was he a trucker today?” “Yes.” “So things are improving? I see that they are. You will miss them with your large penises.” “She will have mine and Game’s,” says Eminem. “She is utterly exhausted and I want a lie down before this nefarious appointment, God. But I want to ask, [ ] [ ], how on earth do you see intellectualism in photos?” “Because ours were technical, I saw the framing right away, and she jiggles it, it is not perfection like [ ]’s, with a horrific imbalance of people, horrific, Loraine, and they are just standing there, struggling to smile because, and I know this, Loraine, and I know that you know this too, you do, because you have been saddled with these pictures, ugly pictures all, I will say, and we take two pictures a year, Loraine, of the kids, all of them, to mark it, and that is it. Your beer will run out, and you will be sad, and it is Sunday, your hair looks pretty, Loraine, are you sure you don’t want to go to the LCBO? I work in Ontario sometimes, but I do not, I do not, I do not, know what I would talk about with you, I don’t.” “She would be fine, [ ], but don’t, she is unused to be assailed by family, and she is fine, fine, fine, on her own, seriously, what she needs is her own family, as her [ ] once said. And she almost welled up, but fortunately not, because her mother was there, you don’t remember the tears, Loraine, but I do, yes, 50 Cent, she said it, yes, she remembers it, yes, she fucking well does.” “Oh, I see.” “Don’t bug, 50 Cent, she’s not that stupid, she remembers a few things.’

‘”Loraine? I want to finish the dinner talk, the highlights, so let’s go, [ ] [ ] really does want to say this, “Loraine, we noticed your love on that day, it was throughout the photos, and, not to embarrass you, we never mentioned the sexual quality—“ “50 Cent laughs. “Oh that embarrassed you too, when we said nothing, as though we saw and were embarrassed ourselves, so it was worse.” “She got over it. Nobody says boo to Loraine.” “I understand that, I do, she is daunting with her eyes, and her observations, and, though [ ] hates his jaw in that picture, he likes the picture, because you caught him thinking about stuff from work, and his face is cross a bit, not angry, but vexed. He was working on something, Loraine. And it showed, so he likes it.” “The palate stretching surgery will help him immensely, and it will, [ ], do it, go to New York, he does ten a day, for people with wisdom teeth pulled, and jaw fractures. You will be eating steak again, steak, Loraine, for a motherfucking working man, disgusting what happened there with their fragile egos and an ambitious dental surgeon, disgusting, seriously, as with you, desperate for money and recognition, they are not, not, not, fucking doctors, they are concrete artists, not surgeons, it is such fucking bullshit the title of doctor, I don’t care if their schooling is long, they do not know what true doctors know, they don’t, they fucking well don’t, and that’s it.”

‘“Let’s move on, Loraine. “My pussy,” again with this, “is not wet, but it is hot, the yeast has been tragic for me, as a woman, as a lover, as a wife, it is like sandpaper, and, to her credit, she was honest, about that, but that is all she gets credit for, because it goes on, Loraine, and go on it does. “My pussy is so hot, that men, in school—“ “In school again?” they were thinking. “She’s the Jane Goodall of school, she did every gorilla in the yard, or something,” thinks [ ]. “He does, Loraine, and [ ] was good looking, and he did fucking hear about it, yes, he did, in great, and grave, detail. “—were lining up, virtually lining up to have at ‘er, and she laughs, Loraine. She laughs, Loraine. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t keep my pants up, and sure, I caught diseases, yes, I did, yes, I did, they couldn’t wait to give me diseases so they could smell me, and fuck me some more.” Seriously, Loraine, and the lobster bisque is gone, half eaten, and the fucking dinner conversation is getting so low, that they are looking around, and it is then that they notice that someone has heard, a man, and he is laughing, laughing, Loraine, at them, because he is a fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking, customer, a fucking customer, Loraine, and this is what they said, Loraine, “Quiet down, [ ], the staff in the kitchen can here you.” “Fuck them,” she said, more loudly. And [ ], her [ ] was disgusted, disgusted, that she was still talking about this shit, disgusted, when he heard, and he simply said, “I’m watching, hockey, gotta run, and he especially enjoyed the tirade about being stuck with his cigarette breath. I want him to leave her, Loraine, he is a ten, and always has been, always, and, dummy, they are, they married an evil, because, guess what she had said to him, “I will suck your cock every day,” and then proceeded to do the exact opposite. She lays down, lies down, sorry, and spreads her precious folds, and gets a come load, and washes it up right away, right away, like that woman in the movie, and then snuggles in for a fourteen hour sleep, when [ ] has to get up in five hours, without light, because that doesn’t please her, Loraine hates the dark for people, [ ], you would do well to learn from her, next time you marry, get your own bedroom, seriously, fuck the horny poster you have had for fourteen years, Loraine, of marriage, which she grandstands to all their friends, saying, “This is representative of our sex life, it is always in flower, seriously, Loraine, you wouldn’t fucking believe this shit. You wouldn’t believe it. And he puts up with it, he does, because he is a fucking saint like you and [ ], a fucking saint, but he has anxiety like you wouldn’t believe, and he knows that fear, she would say, she said, honestly, I could squish her like a bug, it’s not that, she’s tiny, I feel like she is going to drive me fucking crazy. And that’s it, [ ], leave it, you’re an idiot for staying one more day, take the hit, and make lots of more money. Loraine is asleep, go, Loraine, nap, please, on your one beer, because Ontario liquor laws are archaic, they are, go, please, save and go lie down.”’

*************************************************************************************

‘Loraine was talking about the general disrespect men have of women, for everything, they do, I would argue, wouldn’t you, Loraine, that resembles the work of men, because, and I say this unequivocally, the do it badly, they do. And I am God, and I say that is it.’

‘What about intellectuals?’

‘Equals, men, and women, in intellect.’

‘I told Loraine that women have emotional intelligence, and they do, Loraine.’

‘Sharon Driscoll is right, she said, that, sorry,’ says God, ‘not me, and though, men, and even you Loraine, with your dubious hundred percent, called emotional intelligence an oxymoron. Funny, Loraine, but you were wrong that only morality, socialization, and language, were women’s strengths, because Sharon Driscoll is right.’

‘Use my name, Loraine. I can’t stand to be brackets when I’m smart. I’m all woman, I’m emotional intelligence, and nothing else.’

‘What is the difference between relatiation and socialization?’ asks [ ].

‘Socialization is a broad experience and relatiation is an interpersonal one. Get a beer, take a speed, and go to the computer, start fresh please. Yes, the cops shitted you, yes, they did. Move on. They will let you go to 50 Cent, they will, I’m still, still, still, working on that.’

‘They take away anxiety and people feel they help with depression.’

‘Do they slow the heart rate?’

‘They’re gasoline derivatives and they slow the heart rate,’ explains [ ]. Pharmaceuticals, not meth, which is not good, but not as bad as pharmaceuticals, as it will not instantly kill you but only rot your teeth, brush them softly, Loraine, it hurts the gums and causes recession. Go.’

*************************************************************************************

One percent of women are oriented to what Loraine is into, and that is why she gets all these men, and that is why, and that is it, it is not because she is the new messiah, that is her work for me, and she deserves it, it is true that not one person in the entire, fucking, world, has ever cried over Loraine, not fucking one, not one [ ], you were leaving them in your dust, Loraine never did that, never, she is the last to go, the last to go, the last to go, and, despite her careful little descriptions of her cheating, is not a cheater, she is not, most of her relationships, except two, the worst ones, by the way, Loraine, and that is from God himself, God himself says that the cheats happened at the bitter end of the two worst relationships. They deserved it, [ ], and—‘

‘I cheated too, Loraine.’

‘You cheated, you lied, and you came up from remorse and prayer, Loraine had no such problem, they fucking well knew they deserved it, and, in my eyes, in God’s eyes, they more than deserved it, yes, they fucking well did, and more on top of that, which she didn’t dish, no, she did not, she bailed, she bailed, she bailed when she couldn’t take anymore. He left her, to answer your question, and he might as well have he bailed so often, for his smelly, old, cigarette infested, dirt bag, cheater of a roommate, a bad, bad, example to all, Loraine, as a father, I’ll say first, and as a husband. When he went to hospital and [ ] saw that he was more loyal to his lapdog roommate, and he is, Loraine, sure he was going to pimp you to him, and you would have done it, and hated it, by the way, hated every minute of it, but he didn’t do that for you, he did it for his long suffering, bed buddy, and, I shit you not, they practically sleep together, and they are not even gay, they switch beds, they like the stink of each other so much, you can’t believe it, Loraine, but it is fucking, well, true, fucking, well, true. That night, [ ] knew perfectly well that the bed was disgusting, and he wanted you to see it, to revolt you, and that’s what he did, saying, and he fucking well said that [ ] just changed the sheets, my ass, he changed the sheets exactly one year prior, one fucking year, one year, Loraine, he just rests his smelly, filthy, ass in that bed, and smells himself, every fucking night, and [ ] even sleeps in it when he isn’t there, because he is a lonely, desperate, fuck, who refuses to, as you say, take responsibility for desire. And that’s it, [ ], that’s it, the sum total of Loraine’s ecstatically, as you see it, happy life. That is it. Bum fuck buddies who don’t even screw, that is what they are. And when [ ] realized this, and it, as yours, was a rude awakening, she bailed, and good for her, and she is not, she is not, she is not going back, so good for her.’

‘What did he do?’

‘He, instead of allowing his five year girlfriend who, by this time, he was practically living with her, and her father, I might add, her father, I might add, who actually liked him, and was grateful to him for taking his fat, attractive, daughter, to manage his affairs with a notary public and that form that Loraine, she can remember, power of attorney, passed off his meagre, and I mean it is meagre, fortune, to his bum idiot roommate, so the two of them can live happily forever, with no women, and no satisfaction of any kind. And yes, [ ], [ ] is a man who has lost two houses to women, yes, he is, but he got laid constantly, constantly, so they paid, rest assured, and he has done, nothing, nothing, nothing, to care for his children, even to the extent of telling them not to visit because he is too busy. He is an even bigger loser than your little lover, Loraine, and the erectile dysfunction was his fault too, because he knew that plate was too big for three men to manage, he knew, Loraine, he fucking well knew, but the pride was too great, and he broke his own fucking back stealing, yes, he did, like your other loser boyfriend who got his teeth bashed in for bashing in someone else’s teeth in a fucking bullshit, ten dollar robbery, Loraine. He got—‘

‘It’s called a ten dollar robbery, Loraine,’ says 50 Cent, ‘when you rob a grow op.’

‘Oh.’

‘Because they always get you back. Those bitches, and they are mean, the big ones, have cameras, hidden ones, a mile wide, and, just as you are settling into your crack, they bash in and fuck up your mouth, whether you fucked up their mouth or not, and God is saying, and my impression is that he told you himself.’

‘It’s like another language.’

‘You can’t believe it.’

‘Right.’

‘Why does she date losers?’

‘Vancouver, [ ], is full of fucking losers, full of them, men who wanted an easy coastal life with beaches and screwing, one year she hung out there, and she worked like a dog the entire time, even bringing fucking pate to her idiot, then, boyfriend, one night, who was too fucking lazy on ecstasy to get off the fucking beach, take a fucking bath, and buy his own pate. That night you barebacked with him, Loraine, well done, by the way, he washed in the fucking ocean. She learned quick about bare backing, yes, she did, nary a drop of come has passed through those lips, nary a one, compared to you, [ ], so don’t you even think of judging my new messiah, don’t you even think of it, don’t.’

‘Sorry, God.’

‘No. I will not have it. She has worked harder on that book than you worked on your studies, harder, yes, she has, and I am God, and I say that that is so, yes, I do, and she has cried more tears than you will ever know, more, trust that, to use [ ]’s little blackism, which Loraine doesn’t do, use blackisms, 50 Cent, she doesn’t, she knows she is white, yes, she does, and she won’t, like your friends don’t, she won’t, so don’t you assume that she will try to be all black, she is all, all, all, white, and she knows it.’

‘I don’t want to pimp her to women.’

‘Organize for women, pimp for men, 50 Cent, get it right, kidding, babe, kidding, why is that? Tell Loraine.’

‘I want her to suffer all the time, and she just. won’t. suffer. enough. She won’t. She won’t, God. It will be like a joke to her, and my women, and they are my women, I have been with this woman several times, Loraine, are not a joke to me, I need them, I am very serious when I screw, and besides this baby game you play with the Croatian, you are too, you are too, she never laughs, [ ], while [ ] laughed in her face, Loraine wasn’t laughing, and it is true that the former president giggles at his wife, and that should never be so, he is too low for her, and she is a striking, not beautiful, black, erroneous—.’

‘Why erroneous?’

‘Because Barrack Obama is, would be, a three in that family, not a number one, and she is the highest woman, and, as I was saying, she should never be laughed at for her passions.’

‘Fine, 50 Cent, but you have not seen Loraine with a woman, so you don’t know, and I do, I do, she is a big, fat, fucking, baby, when she is in love with a woman.’

‘She is 50,’ says [ ]. ‘She is.’

‘Really? What does that mean? Because I want her miserable, miserable, miserable, I want her to be so desperate for me that she can hardly come up for air, that is what I want, and I am going to use men to get it, and they won’t mind either, will they, God? Because she is lovely, lovely, lovely, ugly, but lovely, I know this, because she giggles--.’

‘No, giggles is a girlish thing, laughing in the face of passion is something else, and that is what [ ] did to her, and then expected all the services herself, yes, she did, and I have asked, yes, I have, yes, I have, yes, I have, she did nothing for Loraine, nothing, and the one time she was going to do a sixty nine, she raped Loraine, and Loraine blinded, by God--.’

‘I understand blinding is by God, 50 Cent.’

‘She’s impertinent with Loraine and I don’t understand why. Why, [ ]? What is it?’

‘I am simply jealous, jealous, I wanted a good mind, I wanted to be famous, I did.’

‘So many people wanted to be famous, Loraine wanted it to, and not everybody makes it, it is true, but, if it’s any consolation, she still has nothing, nothing, she made a couple hundred bucks and she will buy drugs, and put some money on her phone so she can screw for money, some random stranger--.’

‘I thought she liked that.’

‘Do you think it’s fun to be a whore dealing with random men all the time, by yourself, without even so much as a lame ass, pitiful, cheating, boyfriend to hold you at night, who buys you bad drugs and steals your money? Honestly, [ ], get a life. Her life is a piece of shit, while yours has been a swan.’

‘It has been,’ says her husband. ‘It has. She reminds me of these descriptions of your [ ], Loraine. She does nothing she doesn’t want to do, she likes to cook, so she cooks, she sews stupid shit that no one, and I mean no one wants, no one, that yellow brick road was the best shit she ever did, and she couldn’t even sell it, she couldn’t, no one wanted a used wall tapestry, and it was fucking beautiful, as you saw for yourself. It was a mosaic, and again, with her brain damage, Loraine--.’

‘Pointellist?’

‘Sort of, Loraine, but not. We have argued over you day and night, day and night, day and night, since those journals, and she wants to believe you are stupid so she doesn’t feel jealous, and I point out that she is so tied up in knots, that you can’t possibly be stupid, but that is male logic, and so it escapes her.’ “She says nothing, nothing at all, nothing, it’s annoying.” “Fuck annoying. When I complained about her brother, she knew enough to shut her fucking mouth, and that’s what I noticed. She knew her brother could be annoying for people, and she knew that I was a man, and he was a boy, and my opinion ruled, and she shut the fuck up, more women should be like that, and it pleases me immensely that someone, a woman, is saying that women need to get back in touch with submission, immensely, Loraine, because these women come in and out the office, as we say, and they never stay, never, they depend on some man, and say they worked in civil engineering. The worst case—‘

‘Everyone’s going to know who this is.’

‘I don’t give a fuck. I don’t. Say our names for all I care. I don’t care. She is right. Women are stupid at work, and they should leave the work force and stay home, that’s what they should do. What, Loraine?’

‘They’re seeking men, not work.’

‘I realize this, we all do, and they are all grandstanding, Loraine, grandstanding, and it is fucking. pitiful. fucking. pitiful. And Loraine with her forty percent logic, and her measly twenty percent little bit more logic from being an intellectual was the one to say it, say it she did, fantastically, Loraine, the traffic was cut in half overnight, overnight, they all went home to screw their husbands and do the housework, and people found chinks in the armour and broke up, and women had to go back to work, but still, still, many stayed together, and the traffic only increased, I know you don’t know math, but you know traffic, by another third, and it is still viable to get to work, and women are not, are not, are not, being as annoying, because Loraine Laney said they were submissive, and too dumb to keep their legs closed when men said to open them, that is what she said, not to put too fine a point on it, and, despite this argument, Loraine, over you, Loraine, you, with your beloved [ ], who you loved, thinking that she loved you too, wrong, wrong, wrong, she and [ ] get together and talk about what a hopeless slut you are, that is what they say, that you are so stupid that you never married, well, she is honest about who she is, and my wife is a slut too, only she was smart enough to reign it in, but I have seen it in her eyes, and Loraine said—.’

‘Loraine, Loraine, Loraine, why the fuck? What the fuck?’

‘She’s famous for that book, [ ], famous the world over, and it’s a self published, internet published that is, bullshit .pdf, that’s what it fucking well is.’

‘Why, though?’

‘Read the damn thing if you really want to know, read it, because I made up my mind about her long ago, which was that she was a lovely girl, that’s what I decided, despite her sluttish reputation, I took you, didn’t I?’

‘You thought I was hot.’

‘I thought a lot of women were hot. I fell in love though, and I soldiered through, despite, that, as she says in the book, we talk about it at work, the assumed victimhood, such as it was, in high school—.’

‘Don’t underestimate it, they were men, men, men, [ ], as were you, yes, you were.’

‘Practically a virgin man to her hundred and fifty, and she was, she was innocent, Loraine, a fucking idiot who thought men would stay with her, despite everything, and she is right that women are so hopeless with men that if they are going to screw at all after marriage--.’

‘After marriage?! She talks about screwing after marriage?’

‘—they need a fucking man to fucking well supervise because they are so fucking stupid that they will do anyone, just like Loraine, idiot, bringing a homeless rapist home for the night, well done, Loraine.’

I laugh. ‘Not funny.’

‘No, not funny when you got raped. This book was ground breaking, [ ], and I practically know it just from the scuttlebutt around the office, and the women, the all knowing women, refuse to read it, because “she is a whore, what does she know about marriage?” one woman said. “Everyone knows about marriage,” I replied. “Everyone. Every movie ever made is about fucking marriage, and marriage is fucking boring I said, and she knows that much, and, you will be surprised to know that she advocates pimping your wife.” “I don’t want to be a whore,” she said. “I choose what I do. My husband lets me screw a little, and I choose, I choose, I choose.” “Do you?” I said. “Or do they?” “Fuck you,” she said, and that was that for that. So forgive this little diatribe, writer of ours, our family, the men who have read the book, love you for what you said in that little .pdf, even puts the period, funny, Loraine, is it caps though, because I don’t think anyone knows anymore. And do you know who else loved Loraine, and too much I might add, because he confessed to me that he got erections when she was around, was your own father.’

‘He was sick.’

‘Is that sick? Men confess to doctors all the time about erections over their own children. Passionate love, it feels like, you love them so much, you feel sick like when you are young and make love. And, you know what, [ ], I believe I will pimp you, and I believe I will ask money for you, and I have a few contenders already.’

‘Fuck you. I’m chaste now. I’m a married woman.’

‘You’ve lost interest in sex, and I have heard, and, because of that book, men are doing this, and they are talking, you bet they are talking, and they are saying, this is what they are saying, that their wives are so happy, they can’t even pull them off their dick anymore.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘She’s weakening. I knew she would. This chastity bullshit has been a bee in my bonnet, because I had to become “chaste” too, Loraine, five lovers, and I had to pack it in, pack. it. in. in. For good. And I know your brother’s problems are opposite, his wife wants to and he is scared to hurt her, be abandoned by friends, lovers, even, potential lovers, and I have no desire, none, to sleep with a man, but if this “play the field” thing takes off for us—.’

‘What?’

‘She says, and 50 Cent says, that women do as men say, the men choose the lovers--.’

‘I want to choose my own lovers. And you get to do whatever you want. How is that fair?’

‘This is what they are saying, that, with this plan, and God confirmed this for me, Loraine, the numbers finally, finally, finally, shake down. Because men get more out of women alone, yes, they do.’

‘I don’t like that though. I should be there with the man, yes, I should, I don’t even like it, because why should I, but I don’t want him to get more out of women.’

‘Women, and she probably has a theory for this too--.’

‘She does, but she forgets right now,’ says God. ‘She said that women are so afraid of losing protection, their commitment, that it is easier for them to keep women out of the home, and it seems weird, but it is true, it is true.’

‘What about men with their “pimping,” money, what a joke, I choose.’

‘This is what men surmised from her work, that women aren’t really choosing, [ ], they are being chosen.’

‘Oh, fuck that shit, I was rampant, and I did what I wanted.’

‘You did whatever, and I mean whatever, Loraine, they wanted, yes, you fucking well did, and none of us, none of us, we were a group of friends, were too impressed with what we heard, unsafe sex, and it was the eighties, Loraine, and you have done well to keep your numbers so low as a whore, and you know who else, besides her father, was very impressed when Loraine, our little Loraine went professional, [ ] himself. Him. Self. A man who believed in the freedoms of the flesh. “Why should she do it for free if nobody wants to marry her because she’s too slutty, or whatever is wrong with her, why, the fuck, should she, she owes nothing to them, nothing. A slut,” he said, and he said this, “thinks she owes sex to men, but she doesn’t, she is full of free will, and she’ll fuck if she wants, but she doesn’t have to fuck if she doesn’t want, and I have asked her father, and he said, he said, he said, and I admired him for this, he stayed off of her enough so that she began, as an adult, to confide in him, and, though he thought she “gets around,” she related her warts story, and her trich story, you did, Loraine, and [ ] told me all that shit, too, yes, she did, he began to think, because you were so, fucking, depressed, that you weren’t really getting laid as much as your [ ] said you were, with her nefarious, endless, fucking stories of bare backing, disease passing bullshit, she would pass off as idle chatter. Bullshit, thought your Dad, finally, bullshit, and, when she finally did go pro at thirty one, this realization was confirmed, because she got happier, she got stable, and she was better. And he told me, on my death bed, I’m speaking from heaven of course, and my wife knows about the erections, and I feel better in heaven, because it disturbed me, and, of course, this is out, out, out, now, and even women are admitting to it, in real life, such profound flushes of pleasure at the sight and sound of their children, that it is almost erotic, true, Loraine, oh, you know this?’

‘It happened once with my brother’s [ ].’

‘A flush of pleasure.’

‘The whole body, leaving nothing out.’

‘Did you feel guilty?’

‘Did I God?’

‘She had heard of it, and normalizes all of her physical responses, so no, she had been reminded to them so often by her loving, though almost estranged brother, that they already, they already, Loraine, unlike your [ ]’s kids who were inculcated against Loraine--.’

‘Why? Because she was a bad influence?’ asks [ ].

‘No, because the wife was cheating and she was using Loraine’s name as a back story.’

‘Oh, fuck. So the kids, the kids, and the husband, I know who it is, Loraine, yes, I do, we know these things, your mother makes sure of it, hated her too.’

‘I know Loraine, but I was confused as to why she wanted to spend time with [ ], knowing what she did about the cheating, especially after she left us so dramatically over it, that my wife had to confess, she had to, because I was on to her, I couldn’t work it out logically, and I was mad at Loraine, for a long time, for choosing her over me.’

‘Fuck. Lies.’

‘Holy shit, your family can talk, Loraine, and I, like you, would like [ ] to give just one example of grandstanding of women in civil engineering. I really fucking want to know, and Loraine does too, she wondered right away, is there road better, or something?’

‘Fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking, bike lanes is the women’s contri-fucking-bution to civil engineering. And fucking bike lanes have caused more accidents than riding on the fucking road, and nobody actually knows this because it is one of the best kept secrets in civil fucking engineering. And, I have heard, from her dad actually, again, that Loraine is a woman who does not defend the bike lane, she doesn’t, at. all. ever. Because, I am assuming, she knows that men drive a lot and are working this out logically, and it isn’t working, and she hears a tale or two, what?’

‘A two way bike lane on a one way street.’

‘Okay, that is a perfect, fucking, example.’

‘And someone was actually killed, Loraine, immediately, I didn’t tell you that. It would have been rude, killed. And I do go on, and your dad is like me, I got that, so you let me go on, and just listened, because you trust the logic of men, and, if you don’t, you know men well enough that they don’t want to fucking argue, they just want to make a point, and that is it. That is it. I saw this in her--.’

‘Why is she the woman of the hour?’

‘--And she didn’t try to analyze me or anything, she just let me ramble, and ramble I did, because she didn’t argue, even the wife argues. Argues, argues, argues, it’s not like that with men, we just agree to disagree, and we don’t argue, and that’s it.’

‘Because she spent time with men, and she learned “how to speak man,” I heard about this from God, Loraine, and I laughed, and the woman lawyer was immediately irate, but, Loraine, you may not know this, but that woman from PIVOT is a lesbian, and she found, she realized, that she already spoke “man,” and she is a lovely lawyer, who many men respect, I hear a lot on the ether, and I remember. And the lawyer with a little spunk that you liked who had the nerve, in front of prostitutes to say, “Why do I like big ones then?”

‘Can I have a big one, [ ]? I want one like Loraine’s men. I do.’

‘All women do. All. All. All. “The eternal question of penis size cannot be resolved by monogamy. And, if there is a party at Loraine’s, I have no doubt, no doubt, none, that, with my permission, you will charm one of those men into trying that thing in there, and he will love you as well, I feel sure, and Loraine will love it, she doesn’t pimp, because she is under explicit instructions not to do so, but she knows her men, and they are able and willing.’

‘Oh, I see. I thought she got them all to herself or something.’

‘Absolutely not. Which brings us to playing the field, which I will do, perhaps, I have decided, and, based on the past, I believe, Loraine, that a kiss is not enough, based on the past--.’

‘I didn’t know her though.’

‘You knew some of her men. And they certainly knew you once you took her off their hands, and off the casual sex market, and his wife, a gentle, loving, little French woman who lost--.’

‘I’m gentle and loving.’

‘Let me finish. Who lost her virginity at eleven, [ ], eleven, read the book, and cried for days over her lost virtue, for days, for days, until the children were wondering what the hell did Aunty Laney say in that book. And she tried to tell them. They dress the kids in Gymboree, [ ].’

‘Gross.’

‘Loraine gave them hip hop and had to succumb, though she suckered them into hoodies on dresses and shit, she did, because hoodies fucking rule, yes, they do, and I want my younger son to come out as a gang bang boy, although he will be higher than his dear, old, and I’m old now, Loraine, you remember us as young, I have grey hair and everything, in my blond, your men colour theirs I’m sure.’

‘Not all,’ says Neil Smith, also a blond, strawberry. ‘I’m in business, and it’s not done, it’s not, the performers only, I would look a fool, and I’m used to it, and Loraine is old too, and I’m told she has no ambitions for younger men whatsoever, not too much older, though [ ] was her father’s age, and she thought, she actually thought, that no woman, herself included, even deserved a man the same age. That is what she thought.’

‘What age then? Old?’

‘Loraine has no ego is the point here, [ ], she is the antithesis of ego, she’s excited which is why she is bouncy and happy, not because it’s ego.’

‘What’s the difference between bouncy and happy and grandstanding?’

‘She has been typing my shit for a hour straight, and has said hardly a word, that’s not grandstanding. This bike lane bullshit, Loraine, I know, I know, I know, that this is surprise to you.’

‘It was a woman,’ says God. ‘It was. It was a woman who said that the cars going one way, would see the bikes going two ways, and it didn’t happen that way, the bikes move, and they came upon each other too quickly, and that is what happened, a man died, and yes, Loraine, there are by laws forcing men who know better from using the road, yes, there are. Loraine doesn’t think much of them either, [ ], because, and she has seen this, as a passenger, they come up the side and people turn into them, all the time, all the time, all the time,  they are better to drive as cars and wait in fucking line like everyone else. And her father knows it too, and she keeps quiet until she has more information, and when she heard that two way, one way, story, that man, you bet he did, noticed that it landed, fair and square, illogic, that is a gift of intellectuals, a gift, whether by God, or by birth, who cares? And yes, it is annoying, but she is the woman of the hour, because of that book, and a few other things, and because of her devotion to me, I give her no end of things to write about, did you see that? What was she apologizing to God for, do you think, [ ]?’

‘Because she got a little annoyed that she forgot a comma and you asked her to go back, so she said “sorry, God, for my impatience.”’

‘That’s right.’

‘I see this. Humility is everything to me. Everything. Apologize. Thank me. It cleanses the soul. Always. It does. Try it miss do everything on her own, try it, and pray to me for that big dick and I will help your husband to achieve it.’

‘I’m excited again, [ ], I can’t believe this, I thought that book said women were gross and evil or something for desire, or something, I couldn’t figure out why the men were so fucking happy for a change, so fucking happy, you changed something in [ ] so profound, Loraine, that he is a man, and happy, for the first time in his life, he is a changed man, and it was disturbing to me, because I thought he was cheating on his girlfriend, Loraine, but he fucking dumped her, after she dithered about marriage and children for six, fucking, years, he dumped her, has another girlfriend already and they are planning marriage and children. We thought he was crazy for folding after six long years, but what?’

‘Great. Fucking awesome.’

‘What though?’

‘A woman, seven years.’

‘Worse for a man.’

‘Worse for a woman, and she was beautiful, and angry, and she dumped him finally, and was married, and knocked up in three years, Loraine, and one of your [ ]’s on your [ ]’s side too, dithered over a woman, within three years she had three children, and is tired, but happy.’

‘Why has marriage been so hard for Loraine, though? I wasn’t irrevocable.’

‘Loraine was, and she knew it. She was, at least, bisexual--. Yes, they’re doing you.’

‘They’re lying down on the roof?’

‘Yes, Loraine, yes. Bad cops, yes, they are, there are some left and they are trying their hardest to bring the rest down by saying prostitutes, “whores” to them, are disgusting, that is what they have, after that masterpiece you crafted, “whores” are disgusting, well done cops who shit in people’s fan vents, disgusting, excellent, well, fucking, done, disgusting, good, fucking, argument.’

‘Why doesn’t she argue? Why don’t you argue?’

‘I think I just watched men’s faces to avoid angering them, quite honestly.’

‘Seriously? Why do you care? About angering them, I mean.’

‘Because,’ 50 Cent rises up to take this, ‘men will kill a slut like Loraine, for almost any reason, almost any reason, and you have been married too long to fear them anymore, and many women have, because they don’t, and never did, fear their husbands.’

‘Do you want women to fear their husbands, God?’

‘When a man loves, he ceases to disrespect a woman, all other men are, let’s call it “fair game.” Though that sounds opposite, they automatically disrespect you, because, and they know this, [ ], because this is how it has always, always, been, women are lying sluts who put all of the sexuality on to men, all of it, all of it, projection, you’ve heard of in psychotherapy. She’s done some, Loraine, not like you though. Loraine has made an education out of therapy, and, since, etherwise, Sharon Driscoll has asked you to use her name because, and I decree it, Loraine, you don’t know, but you suspected because of how she helped you, she is a brilliant therapist, who, despite her protestations, was very much aligned with symbols, just not in dreams, you don’t remember, Loraine, but you transferred actually Patrick Crean in heaven’s love of symbols into dreams, yes, you did, yes, you fucking well did, which he already knew, but knows for a fact that he didn’t teach you that. He does. He does. And you would have remembered that, I feel sure. You did that, all on your own, and that is how an intellectual survives, logic, thinking, Loraine speaks “man,” alright, and that lawyer is a fan, Loraine, and a lesbian, so very logical, a real lesbian, though you found her feminine and pretty, she has a partner now, and they are thinking of including a man from time to time, because they miss real penises, you are right—‘

‘She’s always right.’

‘I knew, I knew, I knew, she was good for it. I knew it.’

‘Good for what? Brilliance, or something?’

‘This ether thing, she emcees the ether, that is what the new messiah, and Jesus himself, does, did, yes, it is, yes, it is, yes, it is, yes, it is. Eminem is talking to Loraine and he wants her to stop, so I will finish by saying that Loraine never grandstands, she talks a little excitedly, and she will talk over men, until she realizes that they are saying something, and then she knows to shut up, because they are men, [ ], and you are a pretty good woman--.’

‘Pretty good?’

‘Let me finish, let me compliment you too, [ ], allow me, God, to speak without arguing and questioning everything--.’

‘Libby Davies questioned everything.’

‘Stop, [ ], stop, stop, fucking stop. You are a pretty good woman, you have had it good though, and you have nary suffered a day, and you are happy, but you don’t know suffering, you don’t, [ ], if you don’t want sex, you don’t have to do it, and Loraine writes about the male sex right, and it is real, your husband pays for you, and he deserves sex--. Did you see that? This is her work, and she, also, has a knee jerk reaction to the bidding of men, women do, and how do you think your husband feels about his boss day in and day out.’

‘He complains and I think he is just complaining, but he does complain alright. And so did your dad. All men do, my dad was his own boss, yes, he was.’

‘And that works for some men, but your husband is a civil engineer and he needs to work for the city, and he must, he must, he must, women, marry, their boss, was Loraine’s analogy.’

‘That’s not fair, I’m my own woman.’

‘You’re not. Loraine is, she doesn’t want to be, but she is, she pays—‘

‘Are you seriously going to try and say that her [ ] who abused her relentlessly, and, as an adult, harassed evil doctors so much that they finally just gave her total jurisdiction over her forty year old daughter, is getting a fifty dollar food voucher per month, and therefore is not her own woman? Are you seriously trying that logic with God.’

‘I want her to stop. I do,’ says Eminem. ‘I’m sick of this shit. This woman is a baby, potty mouth who has no respect for anyone, let alone greatness, in me, in 50, in Loraine, in anyone. She has been spoon fed her entire life, and it disgusts me that she would try and say anything about a woman who got nothing, and never married.’

‘They raised her.’

‘On a pittance. They starved her, used her, abused her, and destroyed her brain, intentionally, [ ], with e. Coli, intentionally, intentionally, her [ ] is the biggest abuser in the history of women, the biggest, save, no, not save foot binding and clitoridectomy, I have asked God, Loraine, and he agreed that it was true, true, Loraine. This woman is a baby idiot, and so is your other [ ], whose Dad--.’

‘True.’

‘Lived in the poor house so his only daughter could make thirty thousand a year in architecture. That is what she makes.’

‘Do it, Loraine. They have been disgusting to you, despite their admonitions by their fathers, both of whom are among precious few who actually love you, yourself, for who you are, and, believe it or not, [ ] [ ] admits he had no right to ask you for coffee, Loraine balked 50 Cent, because neither of them were out of the closet to each other, neither, and he is a promiscuous man, Loraine, relative to you brother, for example. He is a poet, and is a giver, not in bed, he’s a taker, which women love, they love it, I believe, I know that he is a high man, despite his dorkish walk, that is what he is, so high that he has coveted, knowing her fantasies, a true, gang bang girl for a wife, an Asian one at that, which Loraine balked at, and was reported as such by her mother, and was summarily dismissed, and chastised on the down low, not to her face, of course, as a racist, and turned out to love [ ], as family, within one dinner. She loves her [ ] [ ], [ ]’s father, she loved [ ] too, before today and the previous sulky, bullshit, days, she loves her [ ] [ ] immensely, to the dismay of her [ ], I might add, who goes, for the most part, out of her way to make sure they don’t see each other, despite that, Loraine, you have been invited, politely, through your [ ], to many’s the dinner at their nice house, which is not cluttered as your [ ] has described.’

‘She saw my place cluttered once, and thinks I am a hoarder. She was shocked.’

‘I was not as shocked as I was at the digs themselves.’

‘Oh. Previously.’

‘She wasn’t shocked, [ ] [ ], she was concerned, because she knows how neat you are, she knows this, she knows this, she knows this, yes, she does, from the trip, and because your clothing and closet was perfectly organized, it was a paper fest, and paper fests do happen, because, despite her stupidity, Loraine often tackles her income tax.’

‘Are you fucking kidding me with this?’ says [ ] [ ]. ‘Her [ ] says that she takes it to her father.’

‘Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Once to her father, once, and he rang up her condoms, yes, he did, because he knows, and, by the way, contrary to her word, approves of her decision, because, like [ ] [ ], he could see that she was happier and more stable, and our Loraine Laney is a canary in a gold mine, yes, she is, [ ], don’t doubt it, don’t doubt it--.’

‘She’s stupid.’

‘I’m sick of this shit,’ says Eminem. ‘Why do you put up with this, Loraine. Oh, oops. Oh, oops. Go get beer and take a speed because I want it to soak in before we go to the liquor store, because it’s not a beer store, as you call it, and I know you are disappointed that your neighbourhood store is out of Grolsch, and you do not know, you do not know, maybe we should go to The Beer Store, and get weed tomorrow, Loraine, and fuck the stupid 14, and their dumb route change, fuck it.’

‘Great idea, Eminem, and Loraine loves it.’

‘Was she really going to refuse my money? Is she crazy?’

‘She is crazy, but she was so delighted, because men will stop by, and ravage her in clothing anyway, and pay nothing, and the neighbour is bad for that, he is bad, and he owes her twenty dollars, for a mostly, blow job, and because he just can’t be trusted to pay. She, to answer your question, has precious few clients--.’

‘What does the African pay, because they are cheap, and this bugs me.’

‘Don’t. Really. She sustained four clients at sixty to eighty dollars while she was, honestly, telling them that, save one blow job for two joints, and a ten dollar job in the bushes, she was making ten and twenty dollars for services for clients she met on the streets. So don’t judge her please. She has raised her rate again, and she won’t, she grandfathers, and accepts low amounts now from old clients.’

‘Oh, she tells them.’

‘She hasn’t told me.’

‘She was, honestly, up at thirty five when she met you. The first man she charged thirty five to she made a big to do of telling him that he was the first man--.’

‘I get it. She is making, what now?’

‘Fifty, because her one sixty dollar, generous, outcall bought her a cheap phone, maintained her, while poor, at sixty, to eighty, mind you--.’

‘I get it, he was pissed when he saw her ad for thirty five.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Is he happy now?’

‘I have been thanked for the phone, and I get the same cheap rates, not as cheap now, which is my fault, if I go to her, it is hard for me to understand since I make dinner and such, but girls want to charge for time, and so they do, they do, they do. I had to learn to do less, but I still drive her, and I am excellent, and she loves me because I am an excellent listener--.’

‘Like me, she says.’

‘Nope, because I am an excellent talker too, which she did not say, and that is one of the reasons she is nervous with you, because you are high, yes, but, also, you love her, and you are as shy as she is, you are, we, men, can all see that. Your mouth quivers a bit.’

‘It is true, Loraine, and I love black women more, but I just love you, you are an honest to goodness sweetie, though you do, you do, you do seem crazy when you talk about loving a celebrity, and I was thrown, you are right, 50 Cent, black men know this, bisexual, trisexual, whatever sexual, he is as high as men come, and everyone, everyone, everyone, knows this. He’s a brilliant artist, a gifted braggart, a gifted lover, a consummate protector, a pimp, and a lover, a lover, a lover, of women, everyone knows this, and so, when you say 50 Cent, every, every, every, man is daunted, and that is what you want, because he is who, he is clearly who, you truly, truly, truly, love, and we Africans are smart, and you are not the only person who knows that someone can fall in love through art, believe it.’

‘True, Loraine. As you were talking, he had to remind himself of this, because it is not known here, though it is known in all, all, all, African cultures, because it is, and 50 Cent knows it too, yes, he does, and he knew it when--.’

‘Are you bored with God, Loraine?’

‘I’m scared I will, but he never bores me, never.’

‘That’s because it is always about you.’

‘I tried to talk about you, and you wouldn’t let me. She listens.’

‘Okay. Talk about me, then.’

‘I tried to say you were a pretty good woman, and you didn’t like that, you have withheld sex from your husband who is nothing but deserving.’

‘That’s bad, though.’

‘That’s what pretty good means, though, Loraine Laney takes the good with the bad.’

‘Name me one bad, one, single, bad, thing, you have said about her, just one.’

‘That she is wonderful, and that is why she is the new messiah. You have denied your husband the field though he works hard and overcame all your sluttish behaviour, by making friends with everyone at school when he dated you, everyone, he was the most popular man around for awhile at school because he tried, he tried, he tried, to convince people that you were good, and they respected him for it, though they worried. She left men in her dust, Loraine.’

‘You’ve said that. That was what was going on in the seventies.’

‘Don’t act like the seventies were a culture unto themselves, [ ], free love, sluttishness among women started, and Loraine--.’

‘Loraine, Loraine, Loraine. Fuck Loraine. I have insulted her my entire life, because she is a pathetic loser with nothing to say.’

‘You don’t say anything either, [ ],’ reminds her brilliant husband.

‘He is brilliant, Loraine. He makes so much money in America for his brand of city planning, that it is just silly, silly, silly, Loraine. I lied. They never suffered. He has tons of money, and doesn’t even live in the community that I mentioned. They moved years ago, and your mother never told you, because she was busy insulting you, and didn’t want you to get in touch with anyone, least of all [ ], who, because of her “new chastity,” as she jokingly refers to it, judged you harshly, but not [ ], because she was seen as hapless, and your [ ] never corrected this. [ ] was evil, yes, she was. She let her [ ] be poor, yes, she did, because she wanted to go to art school, and architecture school, and that is a million dollar education, and, believe it or not, it, and [ ] [ ] doesn’t care anymore, he is so fed up with her whining about nothing, she does, she does, she does, only, only, only, with a million dollar education so her [ ] had to live off of a divorced Chinese woman who loves him dearly, but would have preferred a man with as much money as she, because they worked, and saved, and saved, and saved, and did not screw each other over money, but settled child support on their own, in a reasonable amount, not eight hundred dollars, as you gasped at when you first heard it, knowing it didn’t take that much to sustain on top of a salary, knowing that, because you did it. Women thought that they should be able to live forever on one child, that’s how far alimony went for awhile. The gangsters, and they are mad that you never wrote about “downtown BC,” because a lot came out of that, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, Loraine, including “Mom’s littler” which was very real. The gangsters, with drug money supported wives to the max, and paid for Mom’s littler too, yes, they did, precisely to keep custody battles out of the courts, and moms and the new men just let them, yes, they did, yes, they did, yes, they did, take another speed, and keep going, we will get beer about three o’clock and Eminem doesn’t want you to shower, just brush your teeth. You showered, you’re clean enough, and your curly hair is coming out, but kinda pretty, so just throw on clothes, Loraine, take off your little skirt first though, and nicely done, by the way, having a cute outfit on for your client you like who dropped by just to check on you, and throw you a tenner. Well done.’

‘Thank you, Eminem.’

‘I am starting to see why she puts up with me. She has no one, she feels their hate, they don’t love her, and, if they do, they have hard ons and alienate her.’

‘Right, Eminem, right Eminem, right Eminem, and she does not, she does not, she does not, she does not, need your rancour, she does not, so, though I love you, I will always ask you to check yourself with Loraine, she does not deserve it, Eminem, she doesn’t.’

‘Why is she so great?’

‘She’s an infant, Loraine is right, she’s a cooing, whining, little, baby, infant, that’s what I hear, a baby infant with a good upbringing, lots of money because her [ ] was successful, and a great, a fucking great, high, non demanding husband who asked for nothing but a few vittles, and I hear, I do hear, [ ], that you are great, a great, a great, cook, better than Loraine, even, who has time for nothing, nothing, nothing, make no mistake, the second you start a recipe, the phone rings, that is what all the whores say, and I don’t mean that derogatorily.’

‘Do it at night.’

‘They work at night, you stupid, little, baby.’

‘Loraine is laughing, Eminem, because she hears this too, she does, and she can’t fucking believe it, she thought that [ ] was a mature, selfless, even a wonderful woman, but her [ ] disagrees. I had, with my catholic upbringing, and poor, struggling to save, parents, mother working a little, and trying to raise four children, they did well, but not when we were young, and I would like to revisit this, Loraine, that story about the sandwiches. It was me who hid sandwiches, not your [ ], me, just so you know, terrified, hating sandwiches, of not eating my food, my [ ] smelled them in my drawer and questioned me gently, and, after that, no more sandwiches, a tuna salad with a pickle. Loraine hates sandwiches too, yes, she does, and, with her jaw, it is well known, Loraine, that people with Frankenstein dentistry, or whatever you call it, doctor, mister Hyde, or whatever your [ ] did to you, cannot eat horizontal foods, they can’t, they bite the shit, the living, fucking, shit, out of their mouth, which you do. We, we are smart, and we can see that you struggle with eating, and this jaw stretching surgery, sure it seems funny in light of your large men, but it will help immensely. It is a brilliant surgery. And despite our misunderstanding, I, unlike [ ], heeded my husband’s teachings about whores, and learned that they are self preserving and self sacrificing women who are almost never truly satisfied, which I understand more now, from the blog, and the book, which I am reading, and yes, I am a little mad that I failed to see your intellect, because it reflects badly on me, but I do love you--.’

‘She does. She does. And she knew about the erections, but was in touch enough with her body--.’

‘You never repeat those things, do you?’

‘No.’

‘You’re embarrassed for us.’

‘If I feel embarrassed, it’s automatic not to repeat it, but, believe me, I live with it, and I thought it was the funniest, sweetest, little thing.’

‘And gave rise to temper in your [ ], who didn’t know about natural erections with children.’

‘It was Loraine, though, not [ ], never [ ].’

‘You didn’t love him because he annoyed you.’

‘It is true, [ ], I must admit, there are stirrings today when I see the type of man he has become, I’m so proud, and now, and I’m ashamed too--.’

‘I didn’t say I was ashamed. Kidding, [ ], kidding, I loved her for calling me despite her [ ], and, when she cancelled our walk and did not reschedule, I clung to that, and she feels terrible, and has no excuse, no other excuse, because I was not parental, as she says of others, like [ ], and she certainly is, Loraine, even so with me, other than she had to get out and run, and could not make so much as an excuse for a walk. She wasn’t, this is what she says, wasn’t, wasn’t, wasn’t, making much money, and felt she had to stay home as much as possible for calls, and that soothed her, and it hurt a little when I saw her walking in Kerrisdale.’

‘The walks were rare, and she was alone, and not obligated to a schedule and could go home.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘But even that went by the wayside because, and I am not kidding [ ], she once washed her hair first and all the environmental odours were absorbed, and she rushed home, with her phone, and could smell her hair the whole time, and thought the man, who never returned, poor, Loraine, but they want to see the new girls, and so they save, could smell it too, and she never, never, never, did that again. She ran, showered, and waited, and that is what she did, day in and day out, never taking time even to visit her mother, never. Seriously. You think you were neglected? Prostitutes learn quickly that you jump at every call, because otherwise there is no money, and Libby Davies knows this from absences at focus groups. They learn this fast. It is truly, at the risk of repeating ourselves, “short lived, and poorly paid,” Libby Davies everybody. Seriously, [ ], her mother thought she had fucking died, fucking well died, [ ]. And I mean died for real, because she was gone, gone, gone, and you know when your [ ] died, Loraine’s [ ]?’

‘I’m so fucking bored with Loraine, I could die,’ says [ ].

‘I’m not,’ says [ ]. ‘She was so annoyed when she wasn’t in your journal, Loraine. Who was that, anyway? Was it engagement?’

‘[ ].’

‘Still, fucking, single.’

‘Yup.’

‘Why witchy?’

‘I didn’t analyze it correctly, I should have gone straight for the bones, which would have been an impossible, gets it now, impossible! engagement.’

‘A sixth finger would have made it impossible. Why though, [ ].’

‘I’m so hopeless, [ ], I believe, I am, Loraine, looking at this fantasy thing, and I am tremendously boring for people, truly, tremendously, though I am successful at work, nobody really enjoys me, Loraine, and one of the reasons that I didn’t want to go to your women’s party, knee jerk, absolutely immediately, is because I knew there would be women there, women, Loraine, and I knew, I knew, I knew, with your casual attire, and your fun side, that there would be lesbians, and I just couldn’t face it. I wanted a man so badly, but I was so, so, so, bisexual, and I think now, I know now, and I’m out to my family of late, as a, believe it or not, polygamous peripherie. Warren Jeff’s Amy has nothing on me. I will lick women out of town, out of town, and I’ve only done it once, but I can’t come without it, and I need, I need, I need a man to realize this, I would never, never, never, do it on my own, never. Do you think I’m pretty, because no one ever looks at me.’

‘You bore them senseless, [ ],’ says [ ], my [ ].

‘You do, [ ], you are so closeted, and boring as hell as a result,’ says God. ‘Boring, as fucking, hell, and that is not why Loraine dreamed of you, because she didn’t know that until that night at [ ]’s house, when [ ] was getting high on coke and leaving you two to fend for yourselves with boring [ ]. She is a piece of work, Loraine, when she is rushing around, she is almost invariably on coke, which is why they have no money, that is why, not “[ ]’s drinking,” not.’

‘My fucking family is going to fucking kill me.’

‘Wrong. The truth is out. Everyone knows who you are, and they, all of them, are grateful, all, and your family has precious few secrets, seriously, don’t worry.’

‘I want to marry a conservative man like Warren Jeffs. I have even fantasized about Warren Jeffs himself, Loraine, but not Kody, who is not serious enough for me, I need this bullshit about submission and control, and if I deserve to be pimped, if I truly am, with my eyes, as you say, asking for it, then so be it, but I will be an obedient wife, that is what I want, and I will work ten hours. I read the book and I knew, I fucking well knew it was you, and this is why, because I fucking knew, from Quebec, that there are like two fucking Loraine’s with one “r” in the entire country, so I felt sure it was you, and I was happy that it was going around Montreal, my boring, slutty, little cousin, I was, though I told no one. I like beer. I like to drink.’

‘We drink,’ says Warren Jeffs. ‘The women like Scotch. They have developed a taste for it.’

‘Drugs are off the table for me, off,’ she says. ‘I am like her brother, yes, I am, I hate them, I hate them, I hate what they do to people, and, unlike you, Loraine, I knew [ ] was on something, I knew, as I always knew you were smoking weed. I can tell. I can fucking tell, and I respected you immensely for being honest, because, and I agree, drugs are like cheating, you have to tell, you have to, and that’s it, so much lying, fucking bullshit from her, it disgusted me, and I knew [ ] deserved better. I did not know that he was bisexual, because—.’

‘I stopped talking about it for real when I got beat up for being “gay,” honestly, fuck that shit, and [ ], [ ]’s son, is right, he is a target as a high man with bisexual tendencies, because I was, am one, and I was, Loraine, rest assured. They wanted to get me, and they beat me right the fuck up.’

‘Any broken bones?’ asks 50 Cent.

‘Bloody. And [ ] too, and he wasn’t even bi, and he was bigger. Done. Seriously. Left to die, bleeding. It was a week before we returned to school and Loraine was suitably horrified. I was worried when I went to Kits, because I thought it would be worse, but it was better than those collegiate assholes at Point Grey, Loraine, better, of which [ ] was not one, we knew him, them, his sister, our family, and they were the best of them, seriously, never a moment’s trouble with [ ], and we were friendly.’

‘I had my moments of thinking about men.’

‘I didn’t know that. Good for you for not being a closeted prick. I was out at fifteen, and hurried back into the closet, 50 Cent, hurried, yes, I fucking well, did, but I told women I dated, and asked them not to repeat it, and, as such, I am a ten, and my [ ] is a ten, and my [ ] is a ten, and Loraine feels us, she does, she has even said she feels more of a family connection to us than her own family, and I told my [ ] this, Loraine, and she is cynical, so she thought you were angling for dinners, but she is a social worker, and, as you know, fucking smart, and my [ ] is odd, but pure, as you also know, and when we decided, as a family, not to make my [ ] the butt of anymore jokes, he flourished, and Loraine wondered what had happened to that humour, I saw it on you, Loraine, because my [ ] was the worst of it, but, and, like you with Spencer, you apologize, you know you are just trying to get attention because you need love, so you apologize, and you fucking stop, and I respect you, because he has, he has, you have Spencer taunted her, but she is resolute. She will not make any of her husband’s the butt of any jokes.’

‘Octavia.’

‘She was trying to compliment him, honestly, she was, saying he was the only one man enough to fart in front of her. Truly. She is never mean, never Spencer, she doesn’t know why that started, and, when she realized that it was showing disrespect, not humour, she stopped, cold, she did.’

‘Yes.’

‘So that is that. And “[ ]’s drinking,” has stopped too, Loraine, there is no more of that lying, projectionist, or whatever bullshit in our house, none.’

‘Loraine has to go for beer. And she will continue later. Honestly, Loraine, drink your beer, wash up and go, you are not even feeling the speed, you are so tired, truly. Well done.’

‘Thank you, God.’

‘She’s a suck.’

‘She’s truly a lover of God, and that is what she is, that is what she is, she makes love to me, not much but she has, and she loves my eroticism.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘Try it sometime, I’m good. And I’m heterosexual, if a man asked me, I wouldn’t. It is enough that they have all the power over women, save sexual, and that is how I feel. They can respect me, and women can have me, I am truly a center polygamist. I am. Go.’

***********************************************************************************

‘This has been a long night,’ says God, ‘two long nights, two, yes, it has, and we are working on a third, yes, we are, and Loraine is out of beer, nearly, and she wants sleep, so suffice to say, no interruptions, please, none. “This is my pussy,” she says, pointing down, “And it has bought me a comfortable living, a fucking, comfortable, living, I do nothing (syntax) that I do not want to do, nothing, and I mean nothing, fucking nothing, if I don’t want to get up, I stay in bed, if I want to go to bed, I go, I go, I go, I just go, I just tell [ ] and his fucking hockey to fuck off, and I go, and I do, and if I want to spend an hour masturbating my glorious pussy—“ And they are killing themselves, Loraine, but they cannot laugh, they cannot, because she will erupt into harpyism, Loraine, which is a constant, running, nag, that’s what harpyism is, Loraine. And Loraine doesn’t do this—‘

‘Good for her, she has a good life.’

‘Yes, she gets mad, but she is quiet.’

‘As is [ ] [ ], yes, she is, she never nags me, never, and we have so much money, Loraine, your dad’s meagre fortune is dwarfed by our money, dwarfed, Loraine, and our [ ] does well, too, and [ ] does okay, her business is much less lucrative, much less, much less, as you probably know, except construction, body industries don’t make a lot, they don’t, they don’t, they don’t, they don’t, so this is what I wanted to say, and you were not even serious, when you said you wanted “some of it,” “not yours,” you added, defensively, we want, we want, we want, to give you some of our money, we do, and [ ] too.’

‘You’re crazy. You are.’

‘Why?’

‘When we die, silly.’

‘Why?’

‘We don’t love your [ ], she will be long hospitalized, Loraine, long, she is sick sometimes, kidding, Loraine, just wanted to see if you still cared, we want, and we are doing this for [ ], [ ], and [ ], too, and you are the only children that we cared for, the only ones, and it won’t be a secret, and we owe nothing to anyone, and we, when we read your book, and saw how well we had done, emotionally, for ourselves, we wanted to tell you first. We wanted to. And we were teasing you hanging around, teasing you, hanging around, teasing you, I was teasing you about your husbands’ penises, teasing, Loraine, and I’m funny, yes, I am. It will be in the neighbourhood of a million dollars each, two million dollars each, and we have discussed it with our children, and they are totally, and I mean totally, on board, totally. It has been hard for [ ] to make it in Richmond, with her size, and the extreme competition in the estheticians business, and, as you say, many are laundering operations, many, and she knows them herself, she does, Loraine. You will, you will, look weird stating this, like you are asking for money, but that is not the ether, and it won’t come to you as a result, it won’t.’

‘Yes, Loraine, it is common for folks to live poor until they get an inheritance, and they don’t share it with the other poor people, they go and buy something to live in, Loraine would live in a high rise, like The Mondrian, yes, she would.’

‘Would she prostitute, and risk the money?’

‘That is a long way off. Thank you so much, she says. Let’s go on. No, Loraine, they think you’re in shock, they do, you’re an idiot, nothing is in your mind except another small apartment, and they see that. People who are hungry for money, and [ ] and [ ] were not, and [ ] was, have things in their mind right away, she just wants to get off the street, and eat tenderloin, and trout, honestly, that’s all she has in her mind, that fucking fur coat that went into the garbage, she has her own back account, and she just diddles away at it, buying nothing for anyone, ever, Loraine, trinkets for the house, more ugly junk that [ ] hates, hates, Loraine, because, believe it or not, believe it or not, he, he, he, does the fucking dusting, because he can’t be bothered to screen a new cleaner, he just can’t be bothered, Loraine, the house is dirty, the [ ] do the laundry, and, she is an idiot, Loraine, when two, two, fucking penises came out of her precious, virginal, renewed, fucking, vagina, she thought she was queen of the world. “I guess it makes sense that I gave birth to two penises,” she said to everyone who would listen, and there are, precious few left, precious few left, precious few, Loraine. She has those two idiots from drumming, I’m sorry I revealed the gender of your two [ ], [ ],--‘

‘It’s okay.’

‘I am, but this next part is so good, you will just love it, and even you don’t know it, even you don’t know it, [ ]—‘

‘I don’t, I don’t, seriously, Loraine.’

‘”Because, I had several inside me before I gave birth to them, yes, I did, yes, I did, yes, I did, and she was just saying this very line, when [ ] entered the room, and she segued immediately, saying, “Honey, have we accomplished anything today?” “I don’t know, have we? Have we masturbated yet today?” he asked. And she flustered a laugh, because it was the cleaning man, and he does trust her not to cheat, he does, he doesn’t, Loraine, so she says, “Husband? Don’t discuss my masturbation in front of the company.” “I thought he was the help.” “Oh, fuck you,” she said. And the help left, Loraine, he left, he turned and walked out, he didn’t need the job that bad, and [ ] really, really, really, wanted a woman, Loraine, “they are gentler on my TV,” he says. And I say that it was during this little exchange that another friend arrived, she just arrived, and listened to it, Loraine, about the point of masturbation, Loraine, honest, Loraine. No, [ ] never starts anything, he is a ten, but he is long suffering, yes, he is, yes, he is, yes, he is. So, back to the dinner. We will do her later, Loraine’s other cousin, he has almost washed his hands of her, she travelled everywhere on his dime, parties abroad, for a week at a time, while he shuffled mail at the post office, Loraine, shuffled mail, Loraine, at seventy, Loraine, working still while she screwed, and she screwed, Loraine, you think she has a funny, little, body, and a prettier face than you, she’s Asian looking, Loraine, and she does very well with the Japanese, it turns out, very well, very well, very well, she can get laid on a dime in Japan, Loraine, and she does it, and nobody knows because she says she is travelling, Loraine, but really, and even her [ ] doesn’t know this, she stays for a month, and does nothing, nothing, nothing, on her father’s dime, but screw, while he is at the post office, working, at seventy three, he retired, Loraine, destitute. And, you know what she said with her million dollar education? “It’s not my fault that couldn’t work and save money, dad. It’s not. It was only a little help, and I always, always, always, thanked you.” He said nothing, Loraine, and, do you know, on her thirty five thousand a year salary, she still whines for more money, which he, now, says he doesn’t have, and she says, she says, she says, she says, “You are partying all the time, partying with [ ].” “I’m retired, we relax and have a drink at night, and even make love, at my ripe old age, it’s wonderful, and I like to have money for fine wines and Scotch.” “Partying, that’s what I’m saying, you’re a party animal while your only daughter lives in the poor house,” she said. “I worked my fingers to the bone for that house, that your mother took,” took, Loraine, “when you saw that pretty loom, the red one, she was living there alone, Loraine.” “He is one of the forty percent of men who got screwed, screwed, screwed, out of houses, Loraine. And, further, did you realize, with the joy of fatherhood still in his eyes, she accused him of raping their baby, she had infant rashes, common in infants, and she looked terrible, yes, she did, and he cried, he cried, he cried, he cried, for a week, because he knew it was a tactic to end the marriage, as was the pregnancy itself, Loraine, she wanted out.”

‘This is what we’re doing next, Loraine, publish this part, and go get more beer. I want to finish the dinner, and so do you, yes, you do. Let’s go on, Loraine. “My pussy is so hot, I masturbate daily.” “Do you think that’s a sign of self absorption, Loraine?” asks [ ]. “Yes, an hour? It doesn’t even feel good anymore, and I have said, here and there, for fun, that masturbating daily is selfish when you have a partner.” “Really?” “Of course.” “Why? I’m kidding, Loraine. That’s what we feel too. Did you say that to women?” “She was alone, [ ], you weren’t even there, so fuck off Loraine’s two minutes masturbating.” “Fuck you, God. I never had any problem with it. Why is she so full of herself?” “How does that make me full of myself?” “Oh, fuck off, Loraine. [ ] masturbates daily.” “He’s single.” “He does it at [ ]’s. He still has sex.” “Most people don’t have that high of a libido, and I bet his dick is soft, some men do it as a prevention against rejection.” “Fuck you, Loraine, [ ] is perfect. I love him.” “You don’t suck his dick.” “She’s right,” says 50 Cent. “Lloyd and me are on each other a lot over various things, because we are sucking dick.” “Sucking dick keeps prison civilized,” says Game.’

‘”My pussy (“Yes, Loraine, she said my pussy several hundred in the space of an hour, I know it is unbelievable, but she is the most selfish person in the universe, the most selfish, honestly, terrible.) is so hot that I masturbate daily,” she says again. They are trying not to laugh, trying, trying, trying, because now the customer is leaning in, obviously, not caring, and wanting to hear everything. And hear it he does. “My pussy is so hot, that I got laid every day in school.” They’re laughing their heads off, Loraine, laughing, laughing, laughing, and trying to eat, and trying to hear the music, and trying not to die of embarrassment over their [ ], yes, they are, yes, they are, yes, they are. “My pussy is so good that my husband has stayed with me for years, though I do nothing for him, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.” “Let’s take this, yes she has four million still because she lives off of me, but I have to bring her up to my standard of living for the remainder of her days, yes, I do, yes, I do, yes, I do, there is a ten year cut off, Loraine, ten years, Loraine, and we got along for some of it, when she was still horny, and she is not horny for me anymore, she finds me disgusting, yes, she does, yes, she does, yes, she does. And I do hate it, because I still am attracted to her, but that’s it, Loraine, I don’t want to lose my fortune, and I’m afraid harm than good when away from me.”’

‘You’re afraid says God. Bad to make decisions based on fear, yes, it is. Let’s finish, Loraine, she needs beer and she needs to eat, yes, she does, yes, she does, yes, she does, she is so bored with all this, she needs to publish and take a rest, so let’s go on.’

‘”This is what I want from you,” she says. “Oh?” they say. “Please don’t tell [ ] everything I say.” “We have to [ ], we have to, you don’t love him, we love him more, and he deserves to know that you feel stuck with him, yes, he does.” “Fuck you,” she says. “This is it,” says God. “She’s done, finally. She says the following: “I do not love him, no I don’t, and I don’t want to hump him anymore, so I don’t unless it’s Friday and I’m drunk, he has wronged me through one thing, and this is it, and this is why:” And they can’t wait, Loraine. “I’m horny and he works,” Loraine. “He works and works and works and works and works, and I know this was a problem for [ ], and it’s a problem for me too, when I’m horny, I expect to get laid, and that’s it.”’