Doom Fox
She arrived in
planet
bar as if she had
been
airlifted from a
Vegas
casino where she
had
been performing a
one
woman revue
that
revealed more of her
body that what
might
have been in her
mind.
Someone had loaded
her
up with high grade
snow,
then given the word
to
Scottie to "beam 'er
down"
and began taking
notes
for a possible
inter-
galactic comedy of
errors
that would reveal the
baseness
of human emotions
when
confronted with the
ultimate
sexual play thing. I couldn't
imagine why a
neighborhood
bar in Upstate New
York
had been chosen for the
site
of this particular
experiment
in terror but I could
see
that when the results
were
tabulated, what she was
doing
with the flies at the bar,
was
going to rate in the Top Ten
of
All Time personal
appearances.
In fact the way these
guys
were tripping over
themselves
trying to impress The Fox
made
me think this was a new
kind
of spontaneous reality TV
thing
like the Romans used to
have
in The Coliseum though
instead
of being voted off the island
or
out of the bar, you were
eaten
alive and the corpse left
for
the birds to pick apart once
the show was
over.
The Porn Star and the Detective, Off Hours, Talking in a Bar
In the circles she
traveled
taking your clothes off
and
getting it on with
complete
strangers was thought
of
as glamorous just
because
someone was getting it
all
on film and johns would
pay
real money to see what
most
people did in the privacy
of
their own
homes.
She thought of herself
as
a kind of movie star
but
he
disagreed.
"What do you call what it
is you get paid to
do?"
"I'm a porn
star."
"Now, where I come
from
they call taking off
your
clothes and sleeping
with
strangers a
whore."
"I make $2,000 an
hour.
Sometimes more. Show me
a whore who makes
that
kind of
money."
"You take money for
sex,
correct?"
"Yes, but this is
different."
"You take money for
sex,
you're a whore. You could
look it
up."
Now that her balloon
was
thoroughly deflated, you
could
see her losing her
composure,
see her body minders
flexing
their muscles ready to
rumble.
What happened next
depended
upon which book he
suggested
she look whore up in. My money
wasn't on the Holy Bible
but
you never knew. That cop was
one crazy son of a bitch
and
the law was on his side.
They seem to
gather
for impromptu
meetings
of The Dropouts of
High
School Unwed
Mothers
of Schenectady at
local
Dunkin Donuts
where
a woman worker of
age
is considered past
her
prime, old before her
time
& a rare beast who
must
be incredibly desperate
to
work for no
benefits,
bare minimum wage
&,
by-osmosis, sugar
&
caffeine buzz. The
not
working girls are
dressed
for bigger and better
things
in transparent pants so tight
you could read size,
design
& washing instructions
on
their underwear while
waiting
on line as they
trade
pregnancy horror
stories:
massive weight gains,
water
retentions, near
toxemia,
constant spotting,
traumatic
post partum blues,
plaintive
low notes that keep
on
playing all through the
night.
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