Too Much Tequila, Too Little Sunscreen

We all pile into this long black limo. Let’s see we’ve got a zoot-suited pachuco, the ghost of Christmas past … a … a Hef look-alike … a Filipino version of a much younger Dolly Parton and me, Doctor Denton. Oh yeah, Jose invited Bambi at the last minute and she crawled into this see-through nightie of some kind or another and joined us. Bringing babes to Hef’s house is like taking sand to the beach. What an impressive group. I’ll bet we get invited back to the mansion real soon. On the other hand I …

“My ass hurts. Can you open the moon roof so I can stand up?” Brenda asks.

The roof opens slowly and Brenda jumps up, sighs then begins dancing to the Latin music playing in the car. Chui begins trying to kiss her rapidly gyrating face-high ass while Boner grins and says like only he can say, “Takatifu shit.”

It’s then that I see that Bambi’s arm is moving rapidly underneath Boner’s nightshirt. I watch as Boner’s grin broadens and I’m ready for his mantra. Here it comes …ah …

“Mimi kuja, Mimi kuja …”

I interrupt him before he can get too far along. “Bambi why don’t give Boner a little rest before we get to the mansion. My guess is he’ll need all of his strength for tonight’s performances.”

Her grin turns into a frown as she retrieves her hand and pouts. I feel bad about Bambi not getting a romp with Boner so I say. “If things go as I’m sure they will tonight I’ll let you have a crack at Boner … ah … maybe after you and I have had a chance to get to know each other a little better.”

“I’m not sure I want Boner’s big boner that bad. But I’ll let you know if I change my mind. Just don’t hold your breath.”

A flat out refusal from a porn star, now that’s bad.

We pull up in front of the mansion and Hef himself is standing there to greet us. Jose jumps out of the limo and races over to Hef, grabs his hand and starts pumping like he’s drawing water. Jose introduces each of us saving Boner until last.

“Mr. Hefner …ah … Hef sir … er …Hef may I present Through the Green Door Production’s newest discovery, the next great adult movie star, and the biggest and hardest man to ever grace this threshold … Boner.”

Hef drops Jose’s hand and as he hugs Boner he says, “We’ve heard a lot about you. Thanks for coming this evening. The girls can’t wait to meet you.”

“Kubisha mbali bullshit.”

“Huh”

“Mr. Hefner, I’m not sure it has been discussed but Boner only speaks what we think is Swahili or possibly some other African lang …”

Hef cuts me off with, “That’s okay. If he’s half the man we’ve heard he is, he won’t need to say a word. Come on in, we’re having cocktails on the patio. I’ll introduce you to my bunnies if I can just remember some of their names.”

Hef leads Boner by the arm as the rest of us follow them through the house and out a terrace door to a really lovely patio. There are twenty or so beautiful young women clad in sexy evening gowns just milling around looking oh so good as they sip their cocktails. Our pajamas are totally out of place, what the hell were we thinking? We look like trick-or-treaters that have been invited in by the home owner to show off our costumes and to perform our tricks for their guests.

Hef leads Boner to one group of women and then to another, introducing him and beaming as if to say, “Look what I found for you.” Chui and Brenda pair off as do Jose and Bambi while I’m left standing here trying my best to look cool in my Doctor Denton’s.

I remember that the Howard Stern radio show had a ritual that Playboy Bunnies had to go through before they could plug whatever it was that they were there to plug. They had to take a simple little quiz with questions like: What country borders us to the north? Who is our Secretary of State? What ocean is on our East Coast? The girls never knew the answers to these simple questions or to anything else for that matter. They always gave stupid, humorous responses, which was the point, I guess. I want to come up with my own stupid question to see if Howard was pulling our piñatas. How about … er … which direction does the sun set out here in California? Nah, they’d probably just point … let’s see … I got it, they’re bunnies right … how about … how does the Easter Bunny lay those colored eggs at Easter? That ought to do it.

Some Chinaman in a waiter’s outfit serves me a beer while this brunette bunny in a rose colored dress that looks like she put it on with a paint brush saunters over. Her dress is slit all the way up to her ass which you get a peek of with each sultry step she takes. Wow, Hef really knows how to live.

“Hi, I’m Kim and you are?”

“I’m Bob and I’m Boner’s … er … caretaker.”

“That must be an interesting job.”

“It’s not really a job. You see I’m just a friend, a friend that has been taking care of Boner for … let’s see … a little over 14 years now. My lady friend and I live in New Mexico and we sorta adopted Boner. He lives in our guest room and pals around with César our …”

“Has he always been like this … er … hard … mm … I mean has he always been stiff or … how do you say hard-on in polite conversation?”

“Hard-on works for me. Yeah he was as stiff as a frozen hose when we met him and as best as I can tell he’s been that way ever since. My lady friend, Josefina, tried everything she could think of to relieve him of his problem but nothing seems to work. Maybe you can help him out?”

“Like I’m sure gonna try, but like there’s going to be like a long line of really hot babes all wanting to do the same thing.”

“Pardon me for asking but are you a Playboy Bunny?”

“Yes sir, I’m the October, 2004 Playmate. Did you like see my layout? I was like runner-up to Phoebe for Playmate of the year that year. My spread was like shot in Jamaica where I become like an overnight sensation and was like voted the one woman Jamaicans would most like to be stranded on like a desert island with, topping Miss Jamaica by like a vote of 3 to 1. I could have …”

“Oh that’s nice, should I call you Bunny Kim or Playmate Kim or just Kim?”

“You can call me like anything you want as long as I like get my turn with your friend, Boner.”

“Okay that’s a deal but I don’t know what Hef has planned for tonight. Maybe you and I can hook up later for some skinny dipping or whatever else you do around here.”

“I don’t like think so; I like think I’m busy later.”

“You know there’s something I’ve always wanted to ask a bunny. How does the Easter Bunny lay all of those colored eggs?”

“You like know I’ve wondered about that too. I suppose they like eat some dye or something. What do you think?”

“I think you’re probably right.”

This is going to be a long night if this is the level of conversation I can expect. I (like) guess you don’t hang out with these girls for (like) intellectual companionship. Maybe I can …

“Hi, what’s up with your PJs? Going to a costume party later or are you the early to bed type?”

I look up to see a striking blond standing next to Kim. She’s a 12 on a scale of 1 to 10. What a babe.

“Hi, I’m Bob.” I say ignoring her question about the pajamas.

“I’m Amy. I’m the June 2006 centerfold and Playmate of the year for 2006. I’m sure you saw my pictures. I was on this ah, a tropical beach in the sand for my centerfold layout, I’m sure you saw it.”

“I must have, how could I have missed it.”

“Exactly.”

“You know Amy, Kim and I were just discussing bunnies and we were both wondering how does the Easter bunny lay all of those colored eggs at Easter time. Any ideas?”

“Well you see it has to do with the time of the year and the phases of the moon. Easter is always on a Sunday following Good Friday, right? They chose that date because it is when bunnies are at the peak of their color cycle. In fact I have dreams in vivid colors during the Easter season and I just know that that is when my color cycle is in sync with the full moon.”

“I see … and now we know.”

It seems the only thing that these girls know or care anything about is themselves and they’re only comfortable when they are talking about themselves. Howard Stern has had these babes pegged all along. I’m too embarrassed to ask any more questions for fear …

“Dinner is served.”

“Nothin’ he didn’t want to do and he did it very well, I might add, mutha fucka.” Shakeina is quick to point out.

“He doesn’t look very good to me. Here … lay him down on the couch.”

The funeral procession marches in-step right up to sofa and lay Boner down gently and then one after another they kiss Boner’s boner as they would the cheek of a departed loved one. They are soon followed by a long line of women that reaches out through the front door. Each woman gives Boner’s boner a big kiss while some give it a loving stroke or two. One large, older woman holds up the line when her kisses, if that’s what you call ‘em, become more like oral sex than simple goodbye kisses. The ladies behind her are getting antsy when the silence is broken.

“Mimi kuja, Mimi kuja.”

“Boner,” I yell and race to his side.

He opens his eyes, raises to a sitting position and says, “Takatifu fuck.”

I grab him and hug him just as room erupts in a loud applause. Soon a chorus begins a very touching rendition of Amazing Grace. Before long everyone is singing, that is except Boner, he just sits and grins with his biggest grin yet.

“Through many dangers, toils and snares … we have already come. Twas Grace that brought us safe thus far .. .and Grace will lead us home.”

It amazing, if I can use that word, how well these women sing with those shit-eating grins on their faces. You would think that the taut skin of a grin would affect the dexterity of their facial muscles and therefore the quality of th…

“Takatifu shit.”

“I have to agree with you, Boner. Holy shit is right.”

“I once was lost but now am found, Was blind, but now, I seeeeee.”

As they finish their final eee they solemnly file out of the room.

Everyone is soon outside piling into their cars, everyone except Shakeina who stands in the center of the room in that same defiant stance I saw yesterday before she punched me. I don’t think I can handle another one of her outbursts.

“I want to thank you for sharing Boner with us even though you didn’t have a damn thing to do with it, you was out cold, you candy-assed mutha fucka. I didn’t even hit you that hard. Your Boner here did more for race relations in this town than Martin Luther King Jr. and Barack Obama combined. I can show you 40 black women that believe that this honky — this white man — is the best man they’ve ever had. Boner and his big-assed white boner did all that, mutha fucka!” With that round-about thank you she hurried to the door and her waiting car pool.

We just sat there … oh yeah … Brenda was still standing, in this really quiet room. No one knew what to say. After the reverence we had just witnessed along with that haunting song still in our heads we were speechless. Boner knew he had done a good thing and if it were even possible his grin broadened a bit more.

I am thinking, Boner had eight hours of heavy orchestrated action with eight porn stars, ten really if you count the two duos, and 40 or so large, black women in God knows where, doing things we’ll never really know what and … and we’ve got the Playboy Mansion in a few hours. I don’t know if I can handle all of …

My chain of thought is broken when Jose and this striking, Trixie-like bimbo charge through the door.

“Hola amigos,” are Jose’s first words and in Spanish. What’s up with that? I was beginning to think he had gone totally Hollywood and actually believes all of this Joe Green, movie producer bullshit.

“Buenos tarde Jose. ¿Quién es aquel pedazo del asno?” Chui eagerly responds as if he’s been waiting to have a conversation in Spanish.

Jose slips right back into English, “This is Bambi, the star of Wider, Spread Wider and she’s also my costume girl. She’s here to find something for you to wear to the Playboy Mansion tonight. Hey, what do you think of my outfit?” He says as does this exaggerated model-like turn to show off his straight-out-of-the-1940s orange, silk pachuco, zoot-suit pajamas with high-waisted, pegged bottoms and a long coat-like top with wide lapels and padded shoulders.

I try to keep a straight face. Jose looks like a cartoon character or … or possibly an eccentric time traveler just awakened after a 70 year sleep. I can’t hold back my chuckles so rather than laugh out loud I say.

“Wow, that’s quite an outfit. I’ll bet the bunnies at the Mansion have never seen anything like that. In fact they’ll probably want to rip it off of you as soon as we arrive.”

“Bueno, bueno, now let’s see what Bambi can come up for each of you. Why don’t we start with … ah … Brenda since she’s already standing? Brenda come on over here and strut your stuff.”

Brenda doesn’t strut; in fact she can barely walk. A bow-legged waddle is the best she can do as she struggles to get to the center of the room. She falls while trying to make a simple turn and yells in pain when her ass hits the floor. Jose helps her back up and stands her at attention while Bambi walks around her with a contemplative hand-on-her-chin look. She looks like she’s studying some precious artifact rather than a little tranny with a really sore ass.

“You’re a size zero with a size 40 bust aren’t you,” Bambi asks.

“Geah ind theff sote.” Brenda replies.

“Huh?”

Bambi just stands there wondering what the hell is going on for a minute or two before saying. “Take off you clothes and I’ll be right back with something I know you’re gonna like.” She dashes out the door as Brenda begins undressing.

There is one thing — there are probably many things — about porn stars, but one thing they are not, is inhibited. They will drop their pants anywhere, anytime and in front of anyone.

Brenda does more of a jumping-into-the-shower sorta strip rather than the strip tease I’m expecting and stands proudly in the tiniest of thongs. If you study her closely you can detect a little tell-tell bulge nudging out from her thong. Other than the bulge she has the exaggerated, vivacious sexpot body of a cartoon character. Her silicon enhanced breasts are so huge that the skin around her melon-like tits is stretched so tight they seem ready to burst. I’ll bet if you touched one it would be about as erotic as squeezing a cantaloupe at the supermarket. I’ll stick to natural breasts, no matter what size, they have to …

Bambi comes racing into the room with this flaming red baby doll pajamas and slips the top over Brenda’s outstretched arms. Brenda squirms and wiggles the ruffles down over her huge tits then steps into the bottoms and adjusts and squirms some more and finally drops her arms, sticks out her breast, cocks a leg and strikes a model’s pose. She went from a beat-up looking tomboy with tits to a Playboy bunny look-alike with one pair of PJs.

She struts like some magic spell has just been lifted. She opens her mouth and real words come out. “Chui honey, what do you think of this, sweetie?”

Wow, she can talk again.

“Usted es muy, muy hermosa mi amor,” Chui answers in an almost evil, lustful voice that I haven’t heard from him before.

Chui drools like a schoolboy in heat.

“Okay, you … you there with the hard-on, you’re next,” Bambi says indicating Chui.

Chui stands and walks to the center of the room without taking his eyes off of Brenda.

“Give me something other than these pinché-assed yuppie clothes that make me look like Señor Bob.”

“Yeah sure, take off that shirt and let me see those muscles and drop those khakis so I can see your ass.” Bambi asks while she circles Chui.

“Not a bad torso but no real ass to speak off and … and Brenda has a bigger bulge in her shorts than you have. That’s okay, I can work with no ass and a small dick. I do it all of the time. Hang tough and I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Chui is left standing there in his jockey shorts looking like he might faint. Brenda feeling his pain runs and throws her arms around him and gives him a big kiss while she reaches down and caresses the small bulge in his shorts.

Just as Chui starts his mi Dios routine Bambi runs in with a yellow outfit on hangers draped over her back. She shoves Brenda away and hands Chui a pair of yellow, silk pajama bottoms which he obediently pulls up over the slightly larger bulge in his shorts. After Bambi finishes buttoning a traditional long sleeved pajama top she shoves a pipe into Chui gaping grin, steps back and shouts, “Tada.”

We all look at the poor Mexican impersonation of the Hugh Hefner we remember from his televised pajama parties. Chui is beaming in his new threads as Brenda struggles with his Hef-like sown together fly. If it works for Chui it works for me.

She hands Boner this huge multi-colored night shirt that drags on the ground and makes him look more like the ghost of Christmas past than a porn star but it does a pretty good job of disguising his key asset and our ticket to the Playboy Mansion.

“How about you old man?” she says, indicating me.

I walk to the center of the room and do my best pirouette and almost fall.

Bambi catches me and says. “Leave everything on; I don’t think I can handle you otherwise.”

This coming from a porn star must be the ultimate put down. I’m ready to protest and drop my pants when she hurries out to her van. I just stand there as our baby-doll clad ladyboy tries to get Chui’s bulge out of his sown-together fly while this zoot-suited pachuco cheers them on. We’re going to make a big impression on Hef and his bunnies.

“Jose! I yell. “Jose, why all of this night-wear. Are we going to a dinner or a slumber party?”

“Remember the old Playboy TV show … They were always having pajama parties. I thought it might please Hef if we all come ready to party dressed as we remember him … when he was a young stud and not the dirty old man he is today.”

“Yeah but, I, I …

“Close your eyes,” Bambi instructs me.

I close my eyes as she pulls my polo shirt over my head and fiddles with my belt buckle. Soon I can feel the coolness of a draft winding through my bare legs. I don’t hear any jeering from the crowd and that’s a good sign. She pulls and tugs me into her surprise clothing then leads me a dozen steps away and says, “Open your eyes.”

I’m standing in the entry hall in front of a full length mirror. My eyes adjust and I see I’m a donned in a gray, blanket patterned pair of Doctor Denton’s with a button back flap, enclosed feet and all. My visions of playing poolside with nude Playboy bunnies fade while I wonder how …

Ring—Ring—Ring
Someone answer that damn phone.

Ring—Ring—Ring
Where am I? Damn it’s dark in here.

Finally the phone quits ringing. I sit up. I’m in a bed, a strange bed. There must be a lamp around here somewhere. I fumble around on what must be a night stand, find the base of a lamp, and move my hand up to a switch and presto I have light but where am I?

Just as my eyes adjust to the sudden light I see that Chui and Brenda are in bed with me. My movement and the light wakes them and they both stretch and yawn. Brenda looks like she’s just lost a fight and Chui is grinning between yawns and looking even more disheveled than normal. Maybe it’s his yuppie clothes or quite possibly it was his evening with Brenda that …

“Señor Bob, it’s good to see you’re awake. You were out for a long time. That big black chick put your lights out for … let’s see … ah … six hours. What a punch.”

“Did Boner ever complete his scenes with her … oh, and where is Boner?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what Boner did with her but he did an hour with my Brenda and she can’t sit down today. In fact she thinks she may require surgery to make her sweet little butt work right again. I’ve been taking care of her.”

“Where are we?”

“At the same place we were yesterday; the place where they shoot the movies.”

“Go look for Boner. He’s probably asleep in one of the rooms that they were filming in.”

“Si Señor Bob. Can Brenda lay here with you? She can’t sit down and she can’t walk too good either.”

“Sure, just hurry.”

I look around. This bedroom doesn’t have lighting equipment or any of the photography junk that we saw in the other rooms. Maybe they have a bedroom just for resting and sleeping or if what Sindy was telling me is true, this might be Jose’s private casting room.

“What time is it?” I ask the mute Brenda.

“I fon’t heth ah wafch.”

It doesn’t sound like she can talk either. Boner must have done a job on this little ah … ah; I don’t really know what to call her/him. Isn’t tranny red-neck slang for an automobile transmission? Ladyboy probably is least derogatory …

“Ma aff es beathy sorg.”

Maybe she can write out her thoughts if I can find some paper. Then again I read somewhere that they speak 175 languages in the Philippines and most Filipinos speak English, Spanish, their native Tagalog and one of their 175 local languages. What if she can only write in …

“Señor Bob. Boner is not here. In fact no one is here but us.”

Ring—Ring

That damn phone again.

“Hello.”

“Good morning Bob, I trust you slept well. I had an ice pack put on you chin last night and I had our makeup girl put a little makeup on that black and blue spot before she left.”

“Where’s Boner?”

“He went home with Shakeina. She was so impressed with his performance last night that she wanted to take him home and show him off to the girls in the projects. He’s probably shacked up with half of Watts and Compton by now.”

“You let that black Amazon take him home after she threw that shit-fit and after she punched me out. What were you thinking?”

“Shakeina promised me that she’d take care of him personally and bring him back by four this afternoon. But that’s not why I called. I’ve got really good news for you. You’ve been invited to dinner and an evening of fun at the Playboy Mansion. Hef actually called me himself. He said the news about Boner has traveled like wild fire and he and his bevy of beauties all want to see Boner perform. You guys are so lucky; I’ve never been invited to anything at the mansion.”

“The Playboy Mansion in Holmby Hills with it’s famous game room and grotto and all of those babes … let’s see … does Hef still hold court in his big round bed …”

“I don’t know but you guys are about to find out. Oh, a limo with pick you up at the studio at seven this evening. You might want to go shopping for some clothes to wear tonight.”

“Who did he invite specifically? Did he invite Chui and me … and what about Brenda?”

“He wasn’t specific at all. He wants Boner so bad that he’ll take as big an entourage as it takes to get Boner there. Now that I think about it I’m going to go with you guys. I discovered Boner and deserve some of the credit. Okay, I’ll swing by this afternoon with my wardrobe girl and we’ll find something for each of you to wear. Do you like the Dracula cape for Boner?”

“Yeah, the cape is the thing; in fact I was going to ask you for it. It beats the shit out of his Humpty Dumpty outfit. That reminds me do you have that information that you promised you’d have for me?”

“I written it all down and I’ve made an appointment for you for tomorrow. It’s all arranged and I owe you some money that I’ll bring by later today. Adios my friend.”

“Adios Jose.”

I turn to Chui and Brenda and tell them the news. Chui looks scared to death but Brenda starts jumping up and down shouting, “Poohtay, poohtay, poohtay.”

I can’t believe I’m actually going to the Playboy Mansion and as a guest of honor. Well not really, I’m an associate of the guest of honor, but what the hell. Do you think one of those beautiful centerfold babes might actually jump my old bones? Hef has got to be in his mid eighties and if those babes can stomach that old bird they ought to …

“Imf go expipem wice goen do da mafston.” She yells as she jumps up and down like a cheerleader.

Brenda is getting louder. She might not talk so good but there’s nothing wrong with her volume or her schoolgirl jumping ability.

Chui finds some TV dinners in the freezer and beer in the fridge. Brenda goes looking for any of Jose’s “good shit” that might have been left behind. I’m looking forward to a day off and resting up for our big night at the mansion. I start rehearsing my chat with Hef.

“Ahh Hef, I remember when that Unitarian minister preached to his flock that Playboy was a religious magazine. He argued that the magazine told its readers how to get into heaven and it told them what was important in life, delineated an ethics for them, told them how to relate to others, told them what to lavish their attention and energy upon, and gave them a model of a kind of person to be. It expressed a consistent world view, a system of …”

“Señor Bob. Do you want the chicken pot pie or the macaroni and cheese. I think Brenda will want this garlic chicken, it looks kinda Asian.”

We are living large.

Brenda returns with a smile and the distant look in her eyes that tells me she did indeed find some of Jose’s “good shit”.

She utters, “E caund de goof sheet,” picks up the garlic chicken, rummages through a drawer for chopsticks, stands in the corner and begins eating.

I can’t wait for Boner to return and listen in on a conversation between these two.

I lounge on the couch and flick through TV channels. I’d rather watch anything on TV than the scene before me; Brenda and Chui standing belly to belly cooing like two teenagers in heat. I try to ignore these two but daytime TV programming is so bad that I find these two unlikely lovebirds more interesting than As the World Turns or even worse yet, Judge Judy.

If I keep looking I’m bound to find that Jerry Springer’s guests include a Filipino ladyboy, a Mexican drug trafficker, a Swahili speaking porn star and their dirty-old-man chaperone. No such luck. He has an overweight, hillbilly love triangle trio who only want to yell, pull hair and throw chairs. I try hard to figure out the issues in their disagreement so that I might empathize with each side in this trailer-park saga, but whatever the issues, they’re beyond me. It seems that these two large, trashy looking women are fighting over this balding, beer-bellied red-neck. Or maybe these two women are fighting to just fight and the red-neck is their referee. Or then again maybe one of these women is Mrs. Red-neck and the other is the other woman. Oh yeah, that must be it. But you can’t tell from the yelling or the body language which …

“Señor Bob, either Boner’s here or we’re about to be invaded by a gang of very large black women.”

I spring to the window to see this old lavender Cadillac Sedan de Ville followed by six or seven other cars pulling into the driveway and clogging up the street. I see five passengers and a driver in the Caddy; they’re all black and probably all women. The Caddy screeches to a halt and Shakeina jumps out followed by five other women of all ages and sizes. The front lawn soon swarms with large black women. They all have this grin on their faces, the same grin I saw on Deputy Shut-the-fuck-up and Trixie’s faces only they don’t have that distant stare that those two had. Maybe it’s a time thing. One hour with Boner and you develop that stupid grin, after two hours comes the thousand-yard stare and death occurs somewhere around three to four hours. But as we’ve seen with Brenda injuries can occur at any time.

The ladies all crowd around the Caddy and lean in through the back doors. Its then that I see six of them have Boner stretched out what looks like a surf board. They lift him gently and begin their pallbearer-like march to the door followed by 40 or so large, grinning women. I race to the door and greet these beaming women anxious to see the subject of their joy. They’ve got Boner laid out like a corpse with his arms across his chest in that unnatural funeral home pose. It’s then that I see they’ve left Boner’s boner uncovered in all of its glory. He looks like a cross between a cadaver and a flag pole.

“What have you done to Boner?” I yell as I yank open the door.

Before Annie can answer Chui busts into the kitchen arm and arm with the ladyboy, the transvestite, or is it transsexual, then again what does transgender mean … anyway if we keep bumping into these confused people I’m going to have to figure this all out … or should I just refer to her/him/it as a tranny, like they do in this business. I also wonder what the differences between drag queens and ladyboys are. Do you think it’s a size thing where ladyboys are smaller or is it an age thing where drag queens are older … and I wonder why younger drag queens aren’t called drag princesses … I’ll bet it’s a cultural thing then again …

“Hola Señor Bob.”

“Hola Chui ah … and ah … ah what was it … ah … I’m sorry I’ve forgotten her name.”

Chui is grinning just like he was following his very brief screen test. I can only imagine how she/he put that grin on his face.

“Señor Bob, Señor Bob let me introduce you to mi nueva amiga, Señorita Brenda. She is muy, muy simpática.”

Yeah but … she’s got a penis! I want to say but I bite lip until that thought goes away.

“Chui, why don’t you and Brenda join us for a beer?”

“Brenda would like some of that good shit that Jose has scattered around the house but I’ll take a beer.”

“I think there’s a line on the coffee table if Sindy hasn’t sucked it all up.”

“Thanks Señor Bob, I’ll be back in a minute.” She says as she gives Chui a big kiss on his neck a dashes from the room.

“So Chui, it looks like you’re having a good time. It looks like you’re really getting into this adult movie business.”

“Señor Bob if we don’t find that dope that Gustavo stole from me this will be my very last good time.”

Chui’s comment brings the issue of Josefina and the missing cargo right back to me. What the hell am I doing here, hanging out with a bunch of porno stars when my sweetheart is most likely in danger? I’ve had enough of Jose’s pussyfooting around the issues; I’m going to confront him right now … no matter what he’s doing. I’ve had enough of his …

Jose is in yet another room or is it a set? I suppose it’s both. He is intently watching the action unfold under the bright lights. I stop to look at the scene before me. Pierre, Jean and Boner are all tangled up in a pile. It looks more like a wrestling match than a porno movie scene. Then I see what all of this wrestling is about. Pierre and Jean are fighting, literally fighting, over Boner’s grand pénis.

“Cut!” I yell.

Everything stops and all eyes turn to me.

“You guys are going to have to share Boner’s boner … you keep that up and someone’s going to get hurt,” Is the best I can come up with.

“Bob, you don’t understand I directed them to fight over Boner’s boner. That scene will be AVM material especially to the rough-stuff gay crowd.” Mario retorts.

“I just don’t want Boner to get hurt and having four hands fighting for a grip on his boner looks like a sure fire accident in the making. Why don’t you simulate the action like they’ve done for years in movie fight sequences?” I ask as if I know what I’m talking about.

“That’s what we were doing, asshole. You don’t think I’d let anyone get hurt on my set, do you?” Mario shouts back at me.

I wonder if that poor guy’s pecker got bit off on his set.

Jose grabs my arm and leads me out of the room.

“Good,” I say. “I was coming to see you anyway. I’ve had it with your stalling. I want to know where Josefina is and I want to know now! If you don’t tell me, Boner and I are outta here. You can take your five thousand dollars and stick it up …”

“Bob, Bob calm down. Where are you going to go if I don’t tell you where I sent Gustavo, as you call him? I can assure you that Josefina was in no danger when she left here. In fact, if I had to guess, I’d say she was completely in charge and she’s doing the leading. Gustavo is following her just like that goat of hers. She’s ten times smarter than Gustavo and he knows that. From what I could see he’d follow her anywhere.”

“Yeah but … but I can’t sit here watching blow jobs while she … she … she …”

“She’s safe. Let me assure you. Let me have Sindy or Annie calm you down or would you rather have some of this,” he says as he pulls this plastic bag full of white powder from his pocket.

“Thanks but no thanks. Now if Trixie were here you might have deal.”

“I just got a call from the hospital. Trixie died early this afternoon. They’re not really sure from what but they say she went peacefully; in fact she died with the biggest grin on her face that anyone there has ever seen.”

Oh shit, Boner is lethal! But I killed Trixie. I killed her by drinking too much beer and not slapping Boner on the ass sooner? If I’d only … if I’d only given her an hour or two with Boner rather than four hours. What was I thinking?

I wander back to the kitchen in a daze. Trixie is dead-dead-dead and I did it. I let Boner hump her to death. I can read her death certificate now … death by humping.

“Where’d you run off too?” Annie asks. “I was just about to tell you how I earned the name Anal-Annie and became the stand-out star of this very competitive specialty in this ultra competitive industry.”

Somehow after hearing the news about Trixie, Annie’s story about how she became the queen of anal sex seems totally irrelevant. I can’t tell Annie about Trixie, in fact I can’t tell anyone. What if they label Trixie’s death as suspicious? Oh shit, it will be easy to find out where she worked and that trail will lead right to Boner. What should I do? Should we get the …

“Every girl in this industry takes it up the ass — well most do anyway but few really bother to perfect their technique. Most of the girls just spread their cheeks and let the guy bang away. I on the other hand decided early on that I was going to be the active partner — a really active partner and my co-stars better hang on. Riding me is like riding a mechanical bull with a tight little asshole. I once bucked a guy …”

“Brenda, you must be accomplished in this back-door sort of sex?” I interrupt Annie not wanting to hear anymore about her bucking.

“I’d much rather have a vagina but if you’re dealt peanuts you have to learn to make peanut butter rather than get frustrated because you don’t have almonds or cashews.”

“Huh?”

I think she just tried to make a profound statement about making do with what you have, but I’m not sure.

“I once did these 47 guys in an anal marathon and won an award for the asshole of the year. I’m so proud of that.” Annie continues but no one is listening.

I’ve got to get out of here. But I remember what happened the last time I left Boner alone. I’d better see what he’s up to.

The film crew is back in the room where they shot Lynda performing her miracles only this time they have Shakeina, the muscular black lady, under the hot lights.

She’s standing there nude with her hands on her hips in a most defiant pose shouting at Mario. “I ain’t gonna do that with no honky’s dick, no matter how big it is. You can take your money and this white boy and his big-assed dick and stick them right up you fat white ass.”

Mario tries to calm her down “Shakeina, Shakeina. How many movies have we made together and … and haven’t I always looked out for you?”

“Maybe so, but I ain’t gonna suck some mutha fucka’s big white dick when he done called me a …ah …what was it now … a Mimi kuja or some such shit. Ain’t no mutha fucka gonna call me a Mimi kuja an get away with it.”

I jump into this ugly scene with, “Excuse me miss, but there seems to be a misunderstanding here. You see Boner, he only speaks Swahili and he was telling you that he was …”

“Shut the fuck up, mutha fucka. I ain’t asked you shit.”

“I was only trying to explain that Boner meant no disrespect when he said Mimi kuja. In fact Mimi kuja might be thought of as a complement, especially in your line …”

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear no more shit from you, mutha fucka. If you don’t shut the fuck up I’m gonna come over there and kick your lily white ass all over this here movie set. Mario and that horny fucking Joe is gonna have some real action to shoot when I kick your white-fucking ass.”

At least she didn’t threaten to bite off my cock. I suppose that’s the real up-side in this petty confrontation.

“Lady I was only trying to explain that Boner meant no …”

POW! She hits me squarely in the chin and I see stars for a few seconds before the lights go out.

I listen in while Jose explains his plan to his director, Mario “I don’t want to shoot our usual film sequence. Forget the cutesy opening and the female focused foreplay. Jump right into male recipient oral and follow that with lots of different positions, especially those that show Boner’s boner in the best possible light. Don’t even think about a big climax scene, that’s not Boner’s thing. Instead of following some dumb story line I want to maximize the amount of time Boner’s boner will be on the screen. I’ve got eight of my best stars lined up for an hour each. I don’t want to overdo it, look what happened to Trixie. We’ll give Boner a break between performances while we set up our various sets. If we get hot we can wrap up around midnight.”

Jose and Mario wander off to start work while I try to figure out how I’m going to spend the day. I can’t take more that a few minutes of so-called adult entertainment. I learned a long time ago that sex is not really a spectator sport, not for me anyway. Watching others have sex is like watching others play golf. At first you’re jealous that they get to play such a lovely course, then you want to get out there and play yourself and soon you’re bored with the whole damn thing. And if my memory is correct you go straight from interested to envy to horny to yawning in about fifteen minutes. And I’ve got eight to ten hours of watching Boner perform. Mi Dios!

I want to peek in on Boner from time to time just to make sure he’s okay and to make sure he hasn’t humped someone else into the hospital. I can still see the thousand-yard-stares and shit-eating grins of Trixie and Deputy Shut-the …

“Why don’t you come join me over here on the couch?” I turn to see Sindy beckoning to me with her huge pom-poms. “Joe left us a couple of lines of some of his good shit and I’ll share it with you.”

Sindy looks ten years younger in her pony tail and cheerleader get-up, bobby sox, saddle shoes and all.

“I’ll get a beer from the fridge and be right over, want one?”

“Nah, I’ve got to perform later and beer makes me pee.”

The French fags are having a glass of wine at the kitchen table while Shakeina is heating something in the microwave. Lynda and Annie are just standing there staring at the far wall. Both have that blank, drugged-out look of stoners. Maybe you have to be drugged out to do what these two do for a living especially with someone the size of Boner. They could probably do me cold sober. Now I get it; this is where Jose’s two businesses come together. That coke that has Annie and Lynda in lala land might be the coke that Chui was carrying just a few days ago. Where in the hell is Chui, anyway? Amazonia and Brenda aren’t around and neither are the two little Lotus Blossoms. They’re probably getting prepped for their big show with Boner.

I’d better check in with Boner before I cuddle on the couch with Sindy.

Jose has a bedroom done up to look like the sitting room in a Japanese home. The sliding wooden door and the paper-covered walls are a nice touch. Mario, the camera operator and what must be a makeup girl are all wearing sunglasses in this overly lit room. The makeup girl’s only prop seems to be this spray bottle full of what must be a lubricant. Maybe “makeup girl” is the wrong name for the person that performs this function, perhaps she might better be called the lubricator or the greaser, or a … I’ll have to ask Jose.

Boner is sprawled on a couch-like thing with his eyes tightly shut while the two Japanese cuties crawl all over him. Kumi or is it Yuki, I can’t tell them apart, is moaning Boner-san, Boner-san in sync with Boner’s Mimi kuja, Mimi kuja. If the other girl didn’t have her mouth full she’d probably join in, in this curious chorus. I wonder if I should volunteer to help Boner out. I know that a ménage à trois is every man’s dream but it seems like a waste of or maybe an under utilization of …

My pondering is interrupted by an even louder, “Mimi kuja, Boner-san, Mimi kuja, Boner-san, Mimi kuja, Boner-san.” I’ve gotta get outta here. I head back to Sindy.

“We’ve not been properly introduced. I’m Bob. It’s nice to meet you, Sindy.”

“It’s Jane really. Sindy is the stage name that Joe gave me right after my screen test.”

“I didn’t know that women had to pass screen tests. I would have thought that you would only have to show your assets, so to speak. Where as with men they have to verify their size and their staying …”

Jane interrupts with, “Oh no. Joe does all of the female screen tests personally. One girl had fourteen screen tests before Joe gave her a bit part.”

“How many screen tests did you have?”

“I had a normal sorta, sucking and fucking screen test when Joe got this big idea that I would be an ideal bondage babe for the S&M crowd. So he gave me all of this leather shit, a stack of S&M movies, told me to go home and practice and come back and test for a part in his new bondage film, Bite Me, Bite Me.”

“You were in Bite Me, Bite Me?”

“Yeah, and fourteen films since. I’m known in the industry as Bite-Me, Bite-Me Sindy.”

“Have you always been into S&M? I myself find that administering or receiving physical abuse to be …”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, I do too. This S&M stuff is just the part I play to make a living. You don’t have to be able to fly to play Superman, do you? Or you don’t have be a vampire to play Dracula.”

“Okay, I see your point.”

“Here try some of this,” Jane says pointing to a line of coke on the coffee table. “This must be a big occasion. Joe doesn’t break out his good shit very often.”

“No thanks, you go ahead. I’ll stick with this beer, I’ve got a long day ahead.”

“What is it that you do, exactly?”

“Well I don’t do much but I look after Boner. I guess you could say I am his agent or his guardian, or his baby-sitter, or his chaperone, or his escort and sometimes his watchdog. Anyway, I look after Boner.”

She sniffs, or is it snorts, one of the lines of coke, slides down on the sofa, closes her eyes and murmurs, “Bite me, bite me, bite me …”

I don’t know if her “bite me, bite me” is a request or if my little tête à tête with the bondage queen is over.

The Japanese room is empty and dark. I wander around peeking into the other rooms until I find the film crew, under their hot lamps, avidly watching Lynda Loveface do her thing on Boner. This girl, Lynda, is really, really talented. I saw the original Deep Throat in an up-scale theatre back in the seventies and have since lost touch with how this technique has evolved …

“MIMI KUJA, MIMI KUJA, MIMI KUJA,” Boner shouts, his loudest Mimi kujas to date. If volume means anything, Lynda has just taken first prize.

I go to the fridge for another beer and bump into Pierre and Jean. They are on their umpteenth glass of wine, and by the looks of the residue on the table, some of Jose’s “good shit”. They are counting down the minutes until they get their time with Boner. I’ve never been a fan of gay action and one can only imagine what a gay tag team does. A gay tag team, it boggles the …

“Monsieur Bob come and sit with us s’il vous plaît and tell us about that simply stunning friend of yours. Oh what a grand pénis he has. We can’t wait to get to know him a little better.”

“Have either of you seen my friend Chui, the Mexican guy in the red polo shirt that came in with me and Boner?”

“Non Monsieur we haven’t seen him since your friend Boner showed everyone his grand pénis.”

I just got seated when the makeup lady yells at the Frenchmen. It’s time for them to get prepped for their big chance to get to know Boner’s grand pénis a little better. They hurry off more excited than anyone I’ve met here today. They better be good, Lynda looked like a hard act to follow but I suppose if you’re gay and in this business you’d develop some …

“Can I join you for a beer?” I look up to see a smiling Anal-Annie.

“Sure, sit down and I’ll get you a beer.”

“So Annie, how did you end up at the butt end of things?”

Yesterday was a tough day. Boner had his four hours of Mimi kuja with Trixie, Chui had a very traumatic, although short, ordeal and I met Jose, lusted after Trixie, drank some beer and I …

The ringing phone interrupts my reminiscing.

“Hello.”

“Hello Bob, this is Joe Green and am I glad I caught you.”

“You still owe me some information that you promised to give me right after those so-called screen tests. I am hesitant to have any further dealings with you.”

“Bob, Bob, I’ll tell you everything you want to know and more but first I’ve got a proposal, a very lucrative proposal, for you and your friend, Boner. I’m going to make him a star, a star even bigger than John Holmes. Remember Johnny Wadd? He was the biggest, the very biggest but he never could get it fully up. I think he was just too big to get more than a 75 percenter. Boner on the other hand is even larger than John and …”

I interrupted Jose again. “We’re not doing any porno movies. I just want to find Josefina. You promised me that you would …”

“I know, I know, but that was before I saw Boner in action. I’ll give you a thousand dollars a day and guarantee you a minimum of five days work. Not bad for a week of bonking a bunch of babes like Trixie.”

“We’ll take the five thousand but for one day’s work and that’s it.”

“Okay, five thousand, but for three days.”

“One day.”

“Bob, Bob, you drive a hard bargain, it’s a deal. How soon can you get to my office?”

“We’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Jose is happier than I’ve ever seen him. He is dancing around humming this monotonous little ditty though a grin that rivals Boner’s.

“Bob, Bob, we’re going to make millions. Boner will be a big star and, you and I will be living la vida buena. La cucaracha, La cucaracha. Ya no puede caminar. Porque no tiene, porque …”

“Jose, calm down! We’ve got business to discuss. We can party later. Where’s Trixie, by the way?”

“Oh, she’s in the hospital, La cucaracha, La cucaracha …”

“Is it anything serious?” I asked dreading the answer.

“Nah, just a little fatigue, maybe even serious fatigue, and she might have some internal injuries but the thing that gets me is that she just stares off into space mumbling Mimi kuja, Mimi kuja. What the fuck is Mimi kuja, Mimi kuja?”

Boner’s grin broadens a bit more.

We drive over to what we are to learn is one of GDP’s many film studio homes in Chatsworth. It looks just like any of the thousands of up-scale suburban homes in Southern California.

“I’ve interrupted the shooting of Beth Does Burbank for this special day, our one and only day with the soon to be super-star, Boner,” Jose explains. I can see his name in lights beaming over Hollywood Boulevard: BONER – BONER – BONER. Anyway, I’ve gathered all of my other stars here for this one monumental day and evening of filming. Boner will shoot scenes with each of our stars individually and then we’ll cap off the night with a huge orgy scene that surely earn me a ton of AVN Awards. The AVNs are the Oscars of porn and I’ve already won twelve.”

“Whatever you say. I only ask that you don’t harm or abuse Boner in any way. I don’t want to see him in any S&M activity or any scenes with small animals or …”

“We’ll take good care of Mr. Boner and his wonderful boner. From what I saw yesterday, it’s my other actors that you should be worried about. I’ll introduce you to my troupe and describe each of their specialties. I’m sure you’ll approve.”

The driveway and street are packed with cars. We park two blocks away and trek back to the house. Jose has draped Boner in this Count Dracula-like cape that Boner holds together in the front. It does a good job of hiding his most prized asset. Jose wants to unveil Boner’s boner to everyone in some sort of opening ceremony.

The living room is filled with exotic and strange looking people along with scores of light poles and tripods with electric cords running everywhere. Chui grabs a seat next to these two faggy looking French guys while Jose, Boner and I stand prominently in center stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have the distinct and immensely satisfying privilege of introducing the next great superstar in our beloved industry. A man, and I mean a real man, that will fill every orifice like they haven’t been filled since the late, great John Holmes. GDP is proud to present Boner!” he says, as he tugs on the drawstrings of Boner’s cape. The cape falls to Boner’s ankles and he is left standing in his usual, and I might add, his only pose, grinning and erect.

The crown cheers and cheers. You would have thought that Carolina had just won the Super Bowl or that peace was declared in Iraq or that man had just landed on Mars. I haven’t heard such cheering since my last flight from Da Nang touched down in California.

“Takatifu shit!”

Once the cheering subsides Jose continues, “You will all get a chance to perform with my new discovery, the next big superstar, Boner. You’ll soon learn, Boner has another unique quality. In addition to his enormous size and his constant erection, he can perform all day and night without a tune-up, a break or any of those little blue pills.”

Jose is interrupted by even more cheers. “I want to assure you all that there is enough of Boner to go around as Trixie can attest — that’s if she ever speaks again.”
One of Jose’s assistants takes Boner off for a full body makeup, while Jose and I sit at what would be the dining room table in a normal house. Jose pores over some important looking papers as if he is studying for a big exam.

“Okay I’ve got it. We’ll open with Kumi and Yuki, our two little Japanese love goddesses. They will take very good care of Boner and he will knock the tabi off of the Asian market. FYI, tabi are those funny-looking Japanese toe-socks that they all wear with their flip-flops. They worshipped John Holmes in Japan and they’ll think Boner is right up there with Godzilla.”

“That seems like a good start. Boner has always liked sushi.” I say as if Boner’s dietary preferences have anything to do with his romp with these lovelies from the land of the rising sun. Maybe I should assist him … there are two of them and …”

Jose interrupts my fantasy to continue his shooting sequence. “Next we’ll pair Boner up with one of our biggest stars, Lynda Loveface. You may have seen her in my blockbuster An Even Deeper Throat. She will do most of the acting and give Boner a chance to rest up after his sumo match. Yeah, that will work, Lynda likes being early in the program. There’s no telling where Boner’s boner has been before.”

“That will do just fine. Josefina tells me he responds well to the sort of treatment that Lynda will provide. Do you think she might need a stand-in so she can limber up on a much smaller and more manageable …”

Again Jose interrupts my fantasy with, “We’ll have Pierre and Jean my famous gay tag-team, follow Lynda. They are sooo French and sooo gay. After the fags we’ll do Shakeina for a little white on black action. Shakeina can get a little rough so you might want to sit in on that one. She’s not into kinky but she’s used to big, and I mean big, big men, and she can handle herself. Last year some white guy I had just hired got a little too kinky with Shakeina and she bit his pecker off. Blood, you ain’t seen blood like I had on my set. We left her pecker-biting scene in the film and I won an AVN for the most life-like something or other. I didn’t have the heart to tell ‘em that that was real blood and a real pecker. Heh, heh.”

“Are you sure he’ll be safe with … what was her name?”

“Shakeina.”

“Yeah, Shakeina. Will he be safe with her?”

“As long as he sticks to the basic stuff and doesn’t try something kinky, he’ll be okay. We’ll be right there just in case.”

Now he’s got me wondering what a porno actress would consider kinky. I haven’t seen a lot of porno movies but the few I’ve seen seem to cover the gamut of everything a man and woman can possibly do together unless … ah … you include foreign objects and other living…

“He’ll need a break after Shakeina,” he says aloud as he rummages through the papers on the table. “How about a transsexual or maybe a little S&M action? I know, we’ll go with Brenda, she does my Tranny action. She’s my little Filipino ladyboy and she’s as tame as a lamb.”

“That seems like a full day to me. Let’s see … you’ve got him doing the Jap twins, Lynda what’s-her-face, the two French fags, your black Amazon pecker-biter and he ends up with a little tranny action. I think that’s a fair amount of work for what you’re paying us.”

“Maybe so, but I’ve got others waiting in line for their piece of Boner. Bob, you don’t understand how important this is to them. If Boner is gonna be as big as I think he’s gonna be, then each of my stars will want his name on their resume. It’s important to them.”

I hadn’t considered the importance of Boner’s name on someone’s resume but it makes sense, sort of.

“Okay, what else ya got?”

“Let’s see I’ve got Anal-Annie but no one likes to follow her, so we’ll save her til last. I’ve got Sindy. Sindy does my S&M bondage stuff. She’s a sweetheart but she’s into being tied up and abused during sex. Does your friend Boner know any knots?”

“I don’t know and I’m pretty sure that Boner won’t want to hurt her.”

“He won’t really hurt her. I’ll have a stage hand tie her up and spank her til her ass is red then Boner can come in and do his thing. It’ll work, just wait and see. After whacking Sindy around he’ll be ready for a real treat, a chance of a lifetime, a romp with the one, the only Amazonia.”

“She sounds scary. Are you sure he’ll be safe with someone named Amazonia? I get scared just saying her name, Am-a-zon-i-a.”

“Amazonia is a pussy cat. I gave her that name after her operation because she’s so big and muscular looking, not because she’s violent or anything.”

“What operation are you referring to?”

“Her sex-change operation. She was working for me as Herman-the-Hunk until late last year.”

“Huh.”

“We’ll wrap up with Anal-Annie. She works best at the tail end of things. Heh, heh.”

Our César a movie star? Imagine that. I hope Jose didn’t tell Josefina that she was too old and wrinkled. But then again, if his reference is that babe out front then Josefina is old and wrinkled … but she’s my old and …

“I’m always looking for new male actors. In fact the whole industry is looking for young, good-looking, well-endowed men who can get it up on cue and keep it up until the final cum shot scene. I must have interviewed and screened hundreds of self-acclaimed macho studs.

I want to get Jose back on a topic that will lead to finding Josefina.

“What happened to them after you shot your scenes with our goat? Oh, his name is César, by the way, and I don’t want to hear anything about his big introduction to the adult movie business. All I want to know is where we might …”

“I’ll tell you about your friends later but first I want to give you two an informal little screen test.” He points to Chui and Boner. “I’m afraid you, sir, are a bit too old for a part in anything we have underway, or anything we’ll likely do in the future.”

“There’s no need to even think of me for a part in one of your movies. My only reason for being here is to gather information leading to …”

“Trixie, could you come in here please.” Jose says to the open door.

“Yes, Mister Green.”

“Trixie, we’ve got a couple of candidates for a significant part in Beth Does Burbank. I’d like you to meet ― ah ― what was your name, sir?”

“Chui.”

“Trixie — Chui. Chui — Trixie. Now that we’ve been formally introduced, why don’t you take Mister Chui into our screen-test room?”

Chui, the macho drug trafficker, looks helplessly at me as if I should be doing something while Trixie leads him though yet another green door off to the side of Jose’s office. Boner and I look stupidly at each other as if our staring might give us a clue as to what’s going on, when Jose’s huge flat screen TV come alive.

“Takatifu shit.”

Our first image is the now totally naked and extraordinarily beautiful — and I mean big-time beautiful — Trixie as she tries to pull Chui’s polo shirt over his head. Chui’s only form of resistance is his total paralysis. Finally she pulls his new Dockers to the floor, takes one look at his swollen little penis and she starts laughing. She turns to the camera and gives us a big thumbs-down signal while Chui stands at attention in more ways than one in the background. It looks like Chui flunked his screen test before he got a chance to recite a single line, or whatever they call the porno equivalent.

We continue to stare at the frightened image of our totally paralyzed friend when Trixie comes back into the office in a sexy, clinging robe and asks me if I will help her with Chui. I’m hoping she wants to screen test me but no such luck. The screen-test room is so brightly lit that it actually hurts your eyes but it’s a movie set after all. I squint and try to imagine what sex under these spotlights would be like. Maybe a bit bright for a romp with Josefina but with Trixie I could …

“Help Señor Bob. Help me please.” Chui’s lips are the only thing moving on his otherwise erect body.

“Chui, you’ve got to snap out of it.” He doesn’t move a muscle. I try again, “Chui, come out of it, whatever it is. Get dressed. Your screen test is over and we’ve got to get on with our lives.” I slap him gently on the face like I’m trying to revive him from a coma. That doesn’t work. I try yelling in his ear. That doesn’t work either. I sit down on the bed to think. Maybe if I tried cold water I could get …

“I’ve seen this happen before,” Trixie says. “We tried everything and the only thing that worked was …” She stops mid sentence and reaches for Chui’s little penis.

“I think I’ll go back into the office and leave you two to what ever resuscitation technique you think will work,” I say as I rise from the bed and start for the door. I’ve only taken two steps when Chui shouts, “Ahhhhh! ¡Mi Dios! ¡Mi Dios!”

“See, it works every time, but I’ve never seen it work so fast. This guy is not only the smallest gun in the West, he’s the fastest.”

I turn to see Trixie wiping her hands with a towel with her back to a fully animated and grinning Chui. So much for machismo.

Jose and Boner are still seated where I left them, only now they’re staring at a blank TV screen. Jose turns and looks at me, “Did you just see what I just saw? I saw the smallest dick I’ve ever seen and he came after two, count ‘em, two strokes. Wow, I think I can use that. I’ll have to shoot it over again.”

“Kubisha mbali bullshit.”

“I agree with Boner, I don’t want my friend Chui being the brunt of jokes about his size or lack thereof or his lack of staying power if staying power is the right term for continuing something that he never actually started. Staying implies that you …”

“Okay, Bob, It was just an idea. I thought my audience would get a kick out of seeing the exact opposite of what they expect in my films. I’d have to sprinkle this little scene carefully into the plot for one big laugh. But, if you don’t want me to, I can buy that. Now let’s get on with our screen tests. Are you ready?” he asks looking toward the ever-grinning Boner.

Before Boner responds, I cut in. “Señor Verde.” I use the name that I associate with his other business in hopes that I can steer the conversation back to his meeting with Josefina and Gustavo. “Will you please tell us where my soul mate, Josefina and her captor and alleged kidnapper, Gustavo, were headed when they left here? I believe that she may be in danger and the sooner we can …”

“Bob, Bob, I’ll tell you everything you want to know after your friend Boner’s screen test. As you can see, my screen tests are a pleasurable enough experience and in your young Mexican friend’s case an extremely brief affair.”

A grinning Chui and a laughing Trixie come through the side door ― he fully dressed in his preppy outfit and she in her oh-so-sexy robe. I’d give anything for a screen test with her. I’m trying to determine if Chui’s grin is actually bigger than Boner’s when Boner bounces up and shouts, “Basi fun kuanza.”

“Say what?” mumbles the bewildered Jose.

Boner rises and Trixie notices the bulge in his sweat pants for the first time and says, “I see you’re ready for me big boy and I do mean big boy.” I don’t have the heart to tell her that she’s going to end up like Deputy Shut-the-fuck-up if she tries to bring Boner to the final scene. His little romp with a porno queen may be Boner’s biggest accomplishment since becoming afflicted or is it blessed with his …

Boner blurts out, “Nini fuck.”

“Yeah, you lucky devil, be sure to holler if you need any help,” I mutter as if I could do anything with a woman after she’s had a session with Boner.

A few minutes later the TV screen comes to life only to show Boner at his finest and Trixie looking like she’s just won the lottery. She screams something unintelligible — something that sounds like that you’d hear from a rodeo broncobuster.

I turn from the TV as Boner begins his Mimi kuja, Mimi kuja, Mimi kuja routine. Jose is glued to the set, motionless. I wave my hand in front of his face and get no response. He’s transfixed or something or other. Chui is still staring off into space with his shit-eating grin. I don’t really want to watch the screen test even though I’d like to see more of Trixie so I wander out of the office. Screams are coming from the TV set and through the walls from the screen-test room. I’m going to go have a beer or two while Boner performs for the camera and Jose and Chui enjoy their separately induced but equally immobilizing trances.

The beer is good and cold. It’s been two hours and fifteen minutes since Boner began his screen test. If it took him two hours to put that huge grin on Deputy Shut-the-fuck-up’s face, it’ll take a bit longer with a pro like Trixie. I’ll give him four hours. Yeah, that should do it. Four hours with Boner should be enough for any woman regardless of her profession.

After nearly four hours I walk back into the offices of GDP only to hear, “Mimi kuja, Mimi kuja, Mimi kuja” through the thin walls. Oh shit, it sounds like Boner’s still at it. I should have come back sooner.

I peek into the inner office. Jose is passed out on his desk. Chui is still staring off into space and on the TV Boner is banging away at what looks like a corpse while he moans, “Mimi kuja, Mimi kuja, Mimi kuja.” I run into the screen-test room and slap Boner on the ass on one of his up strokes. He stops, turns to look at who hit him and says, “Nini fuck?”

“Boner, I think you’ve had enough. Get off of Trixie; she looks like she needs some air.”

Boner climbs off of her and stands there looking more like a child caught masturbating than a big stud, porno movie star. Trixie is in the same pose and has the same facial expression, including the thousand-yard stare that Deputy Shut-the-fuck-up had when I went looking for her keys. I’ve got to learn how to take pulses if we keep going on like this. I play with her left tit and don’t learn anything. I put my ear to her chest only to find perspiration. That’s good, dead people don’t sweat, do they? She seems warm enough when I grab her wrist but all I can feel is my own pulse pounding away. Trixie has me in the same state as Boner, only my boner is a lot less noticeable.

While Boner dresses I take one last look at Trixie before I cover her with a sheet, turn off the overly bright lamps and the camera. I drag Boner out of the room, close the door without making a sound, grab Chui and we sneak down the hall like three criminals leaving a crime scene. Take that you lecherous drug kingpin.

I want to get as far away from Arizona as I can before Deputy Shut-the-fuck-up does whatever she’s going to do when she gets that grin off her face and her pants back on. Then again she may have taken Chui out of jail under false pretenses and therefore will be reluctant to …

Chui interrupts my musing with a grunt, “Errrg, this pinché egg suit is cutting off the blood to my legs. My legs are both asleep. I can’t feel anything.” Chui is trying to get comfortable in the back seat, as comfortable as his rigid egg costume will allow. It’s obvious that the Humpty Dumpty suit was designed for standing and walking and not reclining in the back seat of a car. He’s taken the top hat off so he can breathe and bitch unconstrained. I just let him complain. He knows he’s far better off in this uncomfortable egg suit than he would be in a striped suit on one of Sheriff Joe’s infamous chain gangs.

“I’m sorry we haven’t stopped yet. We’ll look for a store as soon as we’re in California. Just hang in there.”

“You know Boner; I was blown away when California elected Travis Walker as their new governor. Only in California would they elect an active player in the National Football League to govern our most populated state and the world’s fourth largest economy. Anyway, Travis was elected governor in an overwhelming majority last fall and was just sworn in a couple of days ago.”

“Takatifu shit.”

“He ran his campaign from the Oakland Raiders’ locker room, clad only in a towel, shouting football slogans like: Never let good enough BE enough, Refuse to Lose, If its gotta be, it starts with me, and my favorite, Hustle, hit and never quit. I don’t know how all of his trite football rhetoric fits with the challenges of governing in such difficult times”

“Takatifu shit.”

“There are a variety of theories, as you’d expect, on how a defensive end for the Oakland Raiders could win the governor’s seat after such a short and unorthodox campaign. I especially like the theory that Californians were so jealous of Minnesotans for having elected a pro wrestler as their governor that they went one-better and chose an equally dumb figure from football, a more mainstream sport. So take that Minnesota. Another theory is that the Raider Nation is much bigger that anyone previously imagined and that, deep down, all Californians are really stereotypical Raider fans: part biker, part Hollywood monster, part gang-banger, part beer swilling red neck and part …”

“Takatifu shit.”

“I wonder what he wore to his swearing-in ceremony, a towel, his Raider uniform or he might actually have worn a business suit. Nah, he probably wore his Raider jersey and …”

“Kata ya shit. Ni nini tunaweza kufanya?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. I suppose we need a plan. Let’s critique the tactics we used to find Emilio Sanchez in Phoenix and see if they might be …”
“Kubisha mbali bullshit.”

Chui quits bitching about his egg suit long enough to ask for my cell phone. It seems he left his, along with all of his other possessions, in an envelope somewhere at the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office. He dials number after number. I can’t believe he can remember so many telephone numbers but I’d guess that you can’t keep a little black book in his business. He jabbers in Spanish that’s too fast for me to catch more than a word or two. Finally, he closes the phone and shouts in English. “I’ve got it! We’ll find Jose Verde at a place called Through the Green Door Productions in Chatsworth. What kind of pinché place is Through the Green Door Productions, anyway?”

We stop at the Wal-Mart super store in Palm Desert and I buy Chui some more acceptable clothes. He doesn’t like the Dockers and polo shirt that I pick out for him. He says that they make him look like a gringo, yuppie asshole. I remind him that I dress that way and he just shrugs and says, “What’s that tell you, Señor Bob ― me a pinché yuppie ― Mi Dios. I hope I don’t run into anyone I know.”

Chui is quiet the rest of the way. Boner sleeps scrunched up in the corner of the front seat with his huge grin, the same grin he’s had ever since his “interview” with Deputy Shut-the-fuck-up. I try to imagine what she did to him to warrant a grin of that magnitude. Josefina has made him grin but nothing like this. Oh, to be young, hard and horny again.

We check into a motel along the freeway in Canoga Park. There’s a party going on at the pool but Chui feels too uncomfortable in what he calls a pinché gringo establishment to go and I won’t let Boner anywhere near those scantily clad young women, so we order a pizza in and sack out early.

Through the Green Door Productions looks innocent enough from the outside, that is except for a totally out of character Kelly green door with a huge GDP inscribed in a gold leaf of some kind. It’s located in what appears to be a respectable office building and not at all the kind of place you’d expect to meet a big-time drug kingpin. We met our last drug lord in a Latino gay bar parking lot so things are definitely looking up.

“Good morning gentlemen, how can I help you?”

“We’re here to see Jose Verde,” I say to the foxiest looking receptionist this side of a Penthouse Magazine centerfold. She must be one of those unemployed actresses getting by until her next role comes along that we all hear so much about.

“Do you mean Mr. Green … er … Joe Green?”

I hadn’t considered that Jose Verde would go by the literal English translation of his name, Joe Green, but that would make sense.

“Yes, may we see Mister Green?”

“Can I tell him what this is about?” the bombshell asks as if she’s trying hard to figure out how to bar our access to Jose.

“Tell Mister Green that Emilio Sanchez from Phoenix sent us.”

She wiggles her magnificent ass as she squirms her way into the inner office and shuts another bright green door. She returns in a heartbeat and announces, “Mister Green will see you now. Can I get you coffee, water or anything?”

“No thanks, we’re all set.”

We parade into Jose’s office with me in the lead and Boner bringing up the rear. Jose looks exactly how you’d expect a Latino pimp to look. His longish jet-black hair is slicked back giving him a look seldom seen since 1948. His flowered silk shirt would be better attire for a luau than a business office but it goes well with his dark sunglasses and his off-white slacks and bright white shoes. Does anybody wear white shoes in this day and age?

Jose rises from his desk to greet us with an outstretched hand and a bewildered look on his face.

“Howdy, I’m Bob. And this here’s Boner and that guy over there is Chui. We came to talk to you about a matter of extreme urgency. Your business associate, Emilio Sanchez in Phoenix, was kind enough to …”

“What does Emilio have to do with this meeting?”

“Nothing really, but he was kind enough to give us your name as someone who might know the whereabouts of a couple of people we have been pursuing. You see, my lady friend, Dr. Josefina Bernstein, and someone calling himself Gustavo were reported to have come here to see you about a matter that was partially settled in Phoenix by Emilio. The arrangement where Gustavo was sent hundreds of miles to receive a second payment for merchandise that he delivered earlier in another location seems highly …”

“I’m not admitting to having met with your lady friend and her associate but if I did, it would have been to contract their services for yet another operation similar to the last. If I were to pay them, and I’m not saying I did, but if I were, it would have been for the services previously performed and to ensure that we were guaranteed of their future cooperation. But all of that is so boring. Tell me about yourselves. I may be able to use you in my other business, the movie business.”

“So that’s what Through the Green Door Productions produces, movies?”

“Yes, I make the finest erotic adult films being made anywhere in the world today. You might be sad to learn that I couldn’t use your lady friend, Josefina, in my films. She was far too old and wrinkled for anything but a bit part. Nor did I have anything for her colleague, that shifty looking Mexican guy. He was too greasy looking and frankly his ah … his business end was far too small. But, I’m happy to say I had a small but interesting part for that truly handsome and well hung goat that was accompanying them. That goat, what a performer.”

“Takatifu shit.”

Boner and I are released early the following morning. The guy in charge says there will be no charges against us and we can pick up our car at the impound yard for $225. I am about to complain but Boner interrupts me before I can speak, “Kubisha mbali bullshit.”

I ask about Chui. “We’ll prosecute that beaner bastard to the full extent of Arizona’s new laws once we figure them all out,” says the deputy at the desk. “In the meantime he can cool his heels with all of those other beaners we’ve rounded up.”

There doesn’t seem much we can do for Chui. I’ll have to think about it. Anyway, it’s off to find Emilio Sanchez at El Cerdo Rosado ― isn’t that Spanish for the pink pig. That seems like an unusual name for the business enterprise or the establishment owned or frequented by a major drug …

“Ni nini tunaweza kufanya?” Boner interrupts my pondering.

“We only have one clue as to the possible whereabouts of Josefina and I now wish we would have discussed this further with Chui. I’m confused as to whether we are seeking a significant member of the drug cartel that was attempting to import the merchandise, and therefore Chui’s employer, or the cartel that allegedly …”

Boner interrupts again, “Ni nini tunaweza kufanya?”

When Boner interrupts me for the second time in the short period of time since obtaining our freedom, I try to explain simple conversational manners to him.

“Kata ya shit, hebu kupata Josefina.”

“Okay, I agree. Let’s get a phone book and look up every Emilio Sanchez, El Cerdo Rosado and pink pig establishment in town.”

The Phoenix telephone directory listed 126 Emilio Sanchez homes, one El Cerdo Rosado enterprise and zero pink pig joints. “This is going to be easy. Let’s start with this El Cerdo Rosado business concern, whatever it is.”

The El Cerdo Rosado turns out to be a small bar on what used to be the main pick-up street for Phoenix’s once numerous prostitutes. They’ve cleaned it up since my college days. I don’t see any hookers, only this dive. Maybe its one notch above a dive, okay I’m too generous, it’s a dive and a Mexican dive at that, just our kind of place. We belly up to the bar ― well I belly up and Boner gets as close as his boner will allow him to get, and I order two Dos Equis beers. “Hii ni haki yetu mahali kinda,” Boner says.

I agree with Boner and look around at the other four customers. They are all Mexican-Americans alright but they don’t look like what you’d expect the patrons of a seedy bar to look like at eleven o’clock in the morning. The three guys are clean shaven and well groomed, and in what are probably their Sunday-best clothes, and the one woman is tall and gangly but well dressed. I’m impressed.

“Excuse me bartender, we’re looking for someone and were told we might find him here or that you might know where we might find him. His name is Emilio Sanchez and he’s more than likely a real mover-and-shaker, or as you say, un ciudadano rico.

“Señor, we have many customers and many are named Emilio. I seldom ever hear or learn their apellidos, or as you say, last names. Let’s ask these regulars if they know your Emilio Sanchez.”

“¿Señores, haga cualquiera de ustedes sabe que un hombre llamó a Emilio Sánchez?”

The regulars all go through the motions of thinking for a moment, then shake their heads “no” in unison as if they are all reading from the same script.

I resign myself that our first stop on this adventure is a bust, or is this the third stop? One might consider our first stop to be the ill fated convenience store; the second would then be the county jail tent and this …

“Ni nini tunaweza kufanya?” interrupts Boner.

“What we’re going to do is enjoy our beer and the company of these interesting people while we strategize our next move, which I suppose will be to work down the list of 126 Emilio Sanchezes. Then again we might …”

The tall woman at the bar ambles over to our stools. “Hi guys, you look like out-of-towners. What brings you to our fair city and this particular imbibing establishment? May I join you?”

Is she a she? I’m beginning to doubt it now that I see her/him in better light. She’s definitely a “he” or maybe was once a “he”. I have absolutely nothing against these confused people but I don’t know how to act around them. Society has taught us how we should deal, for the most part, with the opposite and the same sex but not a clue as what we do with this third sex. I suppose I should treat her/him as a woman. She/he has gone to great efforts to look like a woman and we should respect that. She/he may even have gone to a surgeon. In that case I’m clueless as how to treat her/him/it. Would it would be a better pronoun than her or him?

“Guys, I’m Juanita,” she says. “What’s your name, big boy ― and you there ― is that a gun in your pocket or are you glad to see me?” she/he asks in her/his accented version of Mae West.

“Nini fuck ni wewe?” Boner asks.

“Say what?”

“Hi Juanita,” I say, “I’m Bob and this here is Boner. We are both glad to meet you. Boner doesn’t speak English or Spanish. He seems to speak some African language that Josefina ― she’s my lady ― and I have assumed to be Swahili.

“Glad to meet ya, Bob, but I’m thrilled to meet someone with what looks like a huge boner and named Boner to boot. What could be better? Boner, what do you say we mosey over to that booth over there in the corner and I help you out with your big problem?”

“Takatifu fuck,” is Boner’s response.

I better intervene on Boner’s behalf. He’s never had to deal with someone like this before and I’m not sure he can handle it. On the other hand, who am I to judge? Maybe Boner would enjoy having his “big problem” dealt with by this he/she or it person. I’ve heard that they are especially skilled at …

“That’s two dollars for the drink for the lady,” the bartender interrupts my thinking.

I take a better look at the male patrons and it finally dawns on me, we’re in a gay bar, a Mexican gay bar and I’ve brought Boner in here. Oh shit, I can handle it ― but can they handle Boner?

Juanita puts her/his arm around me, bends down and whispers in my ear, “I think I know that guy you’re looking for. He comes in here a couple of times a week to get his knob polished. Come by tonight at nine o’clock and he’ll probably be here.”

“Thanks Juanita, I owe you one.”

She/he cuts me off to grab Boner and drag him to the dance floor. Some Mexican ballad is playing on the jukebox while Juanita does her best to grind her/his body against Boner’s boner. Boner seems to like this; his smile is a bit broader than normal. I’m wondering if I should do something when this guy taps Juanita on the shoulder and cuts in. Soon another guy cuts in on that guy. It seems that everyone wants to dance with Boner.

Juanita just stands at the edge of the dance floor glaring at Boner’s dance partners. When the second guy starts dry humping Boner’s boner she/he has had enough. She/he storms out onto the dance floor, grabs the guy by the shoulder, turns him around and belts him a good one right in the chops. He goes down just as the first guy comes rushing at her/him. More punches are thrown before the third guy enters the melee. I don’t know whose side he’s on or who’s who for that matter. Juanita may dress like a woman but she/he fights like a man, and a tough one at that. I grab Boner and we crawl under a table as beer bottles sail over us. I see a break in the action long enough for us to crawl across the barroom floor on our hands and knees and bust through the door, jump to our feet, and race to our car.

I’m anxious to get to California and rescue Josefina but I feel like I shouldn’t leave Phoenix without checking on Chui one more time. I let Boner sleep in and drive back to the sheriff’s office. As I’m entering the building I run into the female deputy that was such a pain in the ass when she arrested us.

“What are you doing here and where’s your friend?”

“Good morning deputy. I’ve come to look in on my friend, the one you so affectionately called ‘beaner’ when you mistakenly arrested us the other day. My other friend is resting after a …”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I was merely answering the questions you posed rather than …”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“It is nice seeing you again, deputy. I’ll be on my way. You have a nice …”

“Shut the fuck up! I’m interested in talking to your friend a bit more. I was doing my paperwork and have a couple more questions for what’s his name.”

“His name is simply Boner ― Boner with no last name kinda like Cher or Oprah. Of course both of those ladies have last names but we don’t need to add them to their instantly identifiable first …”

“Shut the fuck up! Where is Boner by the way?” she continues.

“As I said earlier, he’s resting. If you’ll excuse me I have to check on my friend, Chui. You see Boner and I were released the morning after you mistakenly arrested us but Chui …”

“Shut the fuck up!”

She surely has a one-track mind or a very limited vocabulary or possibly a very low tolerance for bull…

She interrupts my pondering with her patented, “Shut the fuck up!” and adds, “I’ll make a deal with you. You tell me where Boner’s at and I’ll deliver your friend, Chui to that address at one o’clock this afternoon so you two can chat while I question Boner for an hour or so. Deal?”

“Deal. We’re at the Palms Motel on Indian School Road in rooms 26 and 27. I’d like to remind you that we were released without charges and further harassment of my friend will be viewed as …”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’ll see you at one.”

She pulls into the parking space directly in front of my room at one on the nose. She has Chui in the back seat in his prison stripes and pink underwear. She bounces from the car, opens the rear door for Chui, helps him to his feet, turns him around and removes his handcuffs. She grabs his upper arm like cops tend to do and leads/drags him to the door to my room and knocks.

“Good afternoon Deputy, I admire promptness in a person. I was just saying to …”

“Shut the fuck up! Here’s your pal, knock yourselves out. Now where is your hard-peckered friend?”

“He’s next door in room 27 waiting for you. I’d like to remind you again that my friend is not a suspect or a person of interest in any …”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

Chui is glad to see me and thrilled to be out of Sheriff Joe’s tent-city jail. I give him a hug, hand him a beer and offer him a seat in the room’s only chair. “So how did they treat you, my man?”

“That place really sucks, Señor Bob, It’s colder than a witch’s tit in that tent at night and hotter than hell during the day. We have no TV other than Disney and the fucking Weather channel. We can’t smoke, there’s no coffee and yesterday they fed us green baloney on moldy bread for lunch. Is that anyway to treat honest prisoners?”

“Sheriff Joe is known throughout the U.S. for his harsh treatment of prisoners. In fact, he’s been called the toughest sheriff in the …”

“Yeah, but what are we going to do about me? Let’s blow this joint as soon as we can get Boner out from under deputy what’s-her-name.”

“That’s a good idea. Get out of that prison uniform. I’ve got something for you to wear.” I say as I pull the Humpty Dumpty costume from the closet.

“You want me to put on that egg getup?”

“It’ll just be until we can get to a store. An egg, unusual as it may be, is a much better look than your current look, that of an escaped convict.”

“Okay, I see your point.”

Chui gets suited up while I load all my stuff into the car. I want to be able to leave the minute Boner finishes with Deputy Shut-the-fuck-up. An hour passes; we have another beer and finally its two hours. I’m ready to knock on his door when Boner sneaks quietly into my room holding his forefinger in front of his lips panting “shhhhh” through the biggest grin he’s had yet.

“Are you ready to leave?” I whisper to Boner.

“Ndiyo, lakini nini kuhusu hili?” He answers raising his left hand to show a handcuff dangling from his wrist.

“I’ll go next door and get the key.”

“Kuwa makini, mwanamke hiyo ni tiger.”

“I’ll be as quiet as I can. Give me your room key and wish me luck.”

Luck doesn’t seem to be required. It takes a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to the dark room. Then I see her, Deputy Shut-the-fuck-up, lying spread-eagle on the bed with all of the blankets and covers on the floor at her feet. She’s not bad looking in a muscular kind of way. She has the figure of a wrestler, the ring type rather than the much preferred mud type. I tiptoe up to her. Her eyes are wide open giving her a look of death rather than that of sleep. Oh shit, what if she’s dead?

I’m paralyzed either from fear or from the shock of her show-everything spread-eagle pose. I’ve got to check her pulse but where. A woman’s heart is above or below her left breast? I’m not sure so I gently lay my hand on her breast. It feels warm. That’s a good sign. I start caressing her wonderfully full breast when it dawns on me that I should be checking for a pulse and not playing with her tit. Her left nipple is erect. Is “erect” the right word? Anyway, I take that as another good sign and place my hand just above her breast. I think I feel a thump–thump but my own heart is beating so fast that I’m not sure if it’s her thump-thump or my thump-thump.

What’ll I do now? I could put a mirror to her mouth, if I had a mirror. I could put my ear to her chest or I could probe around for other pulse-taking points. That might be fun but I’m not sure how effective it would be. The nurse in my doctor’s office always takes my pulse by holding my wrist while she stares at her watch for a couple of minutes. Then she writes something on a scrap of paper. Will this technique work without a watch, a pencil or any paper? It’s worth a try. I pick up her arm and hold her wrist. I expect her to jump up and yell “shut the fuck up” even though I’m not saying anything. Okay, I think this is working, I can feel something; I think it’s a weak pulse but a pulse none the less. Hooray, she’s alive.

I take one more look at her. Her wide-eyed stare is eerie as hell but the huge, really huge, smile on her face is the telling sign. She may be alive but she’s resting in peace just the same. Now where would she put her keys? I find them in her trouser pockets and tiptoe out of the room. Sleep tight dear Deputy Shut-the-fuck-up.

Chui knows how handcuffs work and soon has Boner unshackled. We’re ready to roll but what should we do with the deputy’s keys? I can return them to her and get another look, or I can just keep them as a souvenir ― you never know when you’re going to need a key to cuffs ― I know, I’ll lock them in her squad car. Then she’ll think that she locked them in herself in all of her pre-Boner excitement and not suspect us of any tomfoolery. She’ll have to retrieve her keys with a coat hanger ― I wonder if law enforcement professionals use coat hangers like the rest of us. Whatever, it will surely slow down her pursuit or her radioing in.

“Sisi ni Outta hapa!”