|A day in an R. Crumb cartoon
||[Sep. 5th, 2004|02:45 pm]
The American Caliban
I was at the local high-class liquor store yesterday. As I was browsing about looking at all the weird stuff (they have every kind of libation ever made including the dutch egg liqueur and fig flavored vodka), a young woman walked by. She was about 20 and had a knockout body, legs up to here. Her costume was: cashmere sweater off one shoulder; pleated miniskirt; pink leg-warmers over high heels. |
I froze. Was this 1982? Could I be back in high school? Was it even legal for me to be buying liquor? No, no, this is 2004. What the hey. What the WHO.
An older man maybe in his sixties was standing next to me, a gnarled fellow with the deep tan of the outdoor worker. He looked at me, I looked at him.
“Wow,” I said. “That was different. I really don’t know what to say.”
He grinned wolfishly and raised his eyebrows. “Show me your PUSSY!” he barked.