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Mateuš Conrad Dec 2022
a farewell to quills / qwerty: alternative title to -new year's resolution and breaking thresholds of my mental stamina

rereading some works of Frank O'Hara thinking:
i wish a naive 20 year old once more,
just for as little as an hour - curse this aging and
getting predictable in one's assurance
    and disappointments -

i'm crushed today, absolutely crushed...
last night i managed to "****" the madam of the brothel...
that's the thing... i was coming back from
work, i drank one bottle of cider and a little
bit of whiskey, but i must have walked
around the brothel roughly 3 miles
in endless bouts of despair and excitement...

vomiting what little i ate that day...
thinking i'm constipated with an unfinished
little nugget of **** lodged up my *******...
queasy, excited, lost.... child-like...

like i said: "****"... she's a big woman...
i'm guessing in her 50s... definitely late 40s...
it's rather intimidating... and i'm like 5 months
shy from being 37 myself!
plump... but given her age that looks great on a woman
and... my god... the greatest pair of *******
i have ever seen... absolutely...
    a *****-**** where your actual **** disappears
completely?
                    it was just too intimidating...

whenever she let into the brothel for a £10
sat me down and inquired whether i'd like something
refreshing to drink... or she would let be choose
what music i'd like to listen to if all the girls were
busy...

******* no. 1 - lasted me for about 5 minutes...
flop... i finally broke my mental threshold when it comes
to casual ***... casually authentically transactional ***...
no games... not dating games...
no "relationships" / hook-ups...
me, going to the butchers - laying down £10 on
the table the butcher giving me a lump of beef...
that's it... no not me being older and dating 20 year
old women and beating them at the game
just by being older...

                                     the complete ******* opposite...
i don't know what her prostitutes told her
and why she suddenly made herself available!
(oh ****... i'm going to be sick... right this minute...)

.....................................................­.....................
...........................................­.................................
...............................­...........................................
.....................­......................................................
..........­................................................. (10 minutes
spent in the toilet puking, later).......................

unlike with Isabella - from Grenoble -
who i lost my virginity to -
i was a fresh 18 year old who already had
some experience with kissing and hand-jobs
while she was 21 and already with experience...
she just implored me to put on a ******
while speaking half-drunk half-passionately
(strange combination, i know)...
                  
older women... the gap gets even worse when
you get to the age of 36 and the woman is
in her late 40s or in her early 50s...
                                the allure is staggering...
a Grand Canyon of experiences -
                                      i am not ashamed that
i tried to get a ******* twice and twice failed...
as we were talking she didn't cut any corners:
it's not strong enough...
   oh **** me... for the 5 minutes it was hard
the way she just slapped in on her tongue...
but as the limo kicked in i just brushed it aside...
like dirt under a rug... not really taking myself
seriously - the situation was serious enough...
                          of course i didn't blame her...
                           and of course she knew that i couldn't
for the first time in my life i mentioned ******...
my head was aching with this notion...
but not too much: back in high school i already knew
guys in their tender age of 17 and 18 who had
early success with girls who were already
popping ******...
                                             but i know my bouts
of impotence... there's a word in Polish that perfectly
describes it: TREMA...
             which doesn't mean trauma...
                                the jitters... stage-fright...

oddly enough with her prostitutes hardly any problems...
but most of them are younger...
    with her prostitutes it's usually the opposite...
there's the hard-on but a mental constraint of being
unable to finish, to ******...
this was a completely opposite problem...

i dreamt of **** that size ever since i learned to *******
aged 8... and now having finally arrived at
my Mecca of fantasies and "expectations"...
******... the jitters...
                          which i could understand if i was
20 and she was 28... but not with my experiences...
not nearing 37... well...
                                   but she's nearing 50... ergo?
the canyon of expectations grows exponentially...
why? because... technically... i bought into
some Oedipal... she could technically be my mother...
not quiet... and on top of that:
                            she's the madam of the brothel!
she's the one who employs prostitutes and gives
them protection by employing a bouncer
who says a friendly: hello mate, how are you?
upon opening the brothel's fourth door...
oh yeah... you have to walk through 4 doors before
entering...
i have seen guys get rejected on the 1st door...
and the 2nd...

all these factors played a part...
ergo? my new year's resolutions are here...
my drinking has finally caught up with me...
i'm actually getting bored of drinking...
i know i said that once...
and never stuck to my guns of giving up
the habit... i'm also getting bored of smoking
cigarettes...
                     i can't smoke on the job
because i get nervous when sometimes having
to attend to large crowds... large crowds of
drunk football fans... i can't smoke in the morning
either... i get this morning tobacco sickness...
plus being a serious cycling enthusiast:
what's the point?
plus being pestered with a genetic predisposition
for high blood pressure...
the drinking is not helping... the smoking is not
helping... maybe that's another factor when it comes
to this one bout of erectile dysfunction...
high blood pressure...

and... writing... well... if i won't be drinking alcohol
my truth serum will be gone...
              and if i won't be smoking... what sort of writer
would i be if i didn't smoke?
the one eating carrots as a way of distraction and bad
habit?
                     i might as well admit that...
i think that i've written all that i have wanted / not wanted
to write -
     there's just no more incentive to continue this
dream - give up like Scott Fitzgerald... but instead
of turning to more alcohol... actually giving it up...
   all the vices... get in even better shape and...
                      go back to the madam and **** her like
300 Spartans...
                  
but on top of that she gave me more depressing news...
Mona and Kdarda ****** off... it would seem for good...
Mona became pregnant... what?!
oh yeah... she's in her 2nd or 3rd month...
she's back in Romania...
                                               who did she become
pregnant with?                                   ...
    ...                                          silence... not that i actually
asked the question...
                                    i sometimes wonder what
happens to those used condoms...
                                        it's almost like in the urban
myth i once overheard in Poland about...
either a man or a woman who sold condoms
having pierced them with a needle...

              well i have an urban myth of my own...
even though it's not a myth but a sad reality of being
with a woman, in a relationship,
who tells you she doesn't like you wearing a ******
because if there's going to be any latex involved it
won't  go inside of her but will be outside of her
so she tells you she will get on the pill...
                       only years later you realise....
it was impossible that she was on a contraceptive pill
because... you just performed oral *** on
a ******* who let you have unprotected *** with
her because she actually was on the pill
i.e. you can't perform oral *** on a woman who
is on the pill because there are no sweet juices flowing
there's only a ******* pharmacy down there...
it's bitter... so ergo... if that girlfriend of yours calls you
up a few weeks after she broke up with you
and tells you that she's pregnant...
                       on top of you suspecting her ex boyfriend
beta orbiter hanging around her flat in St. Petersburg
when you went over to visit one glorious summer...

why have only prostitutes  been the most
                                                 sane women in my life?
oh this night i'm going to drink my last
and write something rather epic...
                     because after tonight...
                                 a hiatus... complete darkness...
sure... any internet communication already established:
kept... but i'm not sticking my head out anymore...
i've done it for 8 years and i'm finally feeling the strain
that writing creates in the psyche...

i also realised yesterday that the ego can be sometimes
right... my ego planned that i wouldn't go to the brothel
until the next year, a day prior to ******* off to Poland
to celebrate my grandmother's 80th birthday
(and obviously stocking up on duty free Camel cigarettes) -
as i was circling the vicinity of the brothel
trying to find the darkest parts - alleys, the park,
my ego was already telling: but you said so yourself
that not until next year, look at yourself: you're a nervous
wreck! you're not in the mood for ***... not tonight...
you just finished a shift and you're tired... just go home...
but i didn't listen to my ego: it's a painfully useful realisation
that this otherwise usually fickle entity inside of
my head with its pseudo-schizoid advantages / disadvantages
of rummaging in two tongues is somehow still
trying to help me, persuade me, comfort me and tell
me the whole truth rather than some delusional spin-off
some variation of a Satanic-whisper...
yesterday i was illuminated... but of course i didn't listen:
since it wasn't my conscience talking...
     i've already done the supposedly "evil" / "taboo"...

it's for the best... for the past 8... hell! more!
how many years has it been where there wasn't a single
day where i wouldn't spew some sort-poetic but mostly
rambling every, single, ******, night!
non-stop! sometimes, in my peak, that would involve
me sitting from 10pm through to 8am in
the morning - going to bed with the sunrise and
getting up with the sunset...
                             becoming this nocturnal monster -
living a life associated with the comings and goings
of an ivory tower, ******* Merlin the whacky etymological
historian of sorts...

well... today was eventful: just by waking up i was transported
into a warping of thought...
i needed to have a conversation with myself...
woke around 2pm... exhausted... lay in bed for
3 hours, hungry, hung-over...
       not moving, like a reptilian predator...
what did i have to eat today?
   my father used to call my drinking antics by using
the metaphor: rat...
   i always thought myself more of a fox...
although ask the Chinese...
                rats are not something to be cringed at...
they spread the wrath of the gods...
                       i couldn't **** a fly i couldn't **** a rat...
i remember this one instance in Edinburgh...
i was with Ilona and a mouse managed to enter my
wardrobe... i could see it: eyes glistening...
what did i do?
    i built a maze in my bedroom...
     with a trap at the end... "ushering" the mouse out
it ran through my elaborate maze and into my trap...
i caught it... pincer index thumb held up upside down,
she took a picture, giggle... purr me...
what did i do with it?
       i went outside of the flat (Montague St. can't
remember the flat number, tenements)
and left it on the communal staircase... thinking...
well... it might just scuttle away...
what did the mouse do? a ******* KAMIKAZE jump
two storeys down...
              which sent... shockwaves of trauma back
into my at-then-present-consciousness...
   when i was younger this bully of a kid...
thick glasses... curly brown hair... encouraged me...
to drop my hamster from a height telling me...
he'll survive... so... i dropped the hamster...
watching it fall... watching it hit the ground...
watching its tiny snout paint a ******* of crimson,
hue pink, hue... all the Hugh Grants and Heffners
in red...
    as i ran back to my mother and grandmother
crying... talk of parachutes... opening...
some magical force this bully persuaded me of...
the parachute didn't open! the parachute didn't open!
it was a joke for a while...
                           but i was the killer of my own pet...
and this kid... i still don't remember how
he came into my life... he wasn't the kid of any of the neighbours...
he just appeared in my life for this particular instance...
and there i was thinking i was morally superior
when i took a walk alone down a little stream
watching two boys **** a frog by smearing it with
lipstick and setting it alight...

things changed when hamsters became dogs...
Axl... i loved that dobberman... ferocious beast...
me and the upstairs kid: BIOŁY... Mark? Martin?
he was so blonde he could pass off as albino...
we were playing my Nintendo console...
because... i was the "rich" kid in the neighbourhood...
well... rich... living in those old communist satellite
state sort of tenements...
i was the kid with all the presents but no father
in my life and a drunk grandfather who was still great:
better than nothing given i only had one grandfather
and you're sort of supposed to have two...
so we were playing... got into an argument...
i don't know what happened in-between
i just know that Axl bit the boy's nose and the same
glorious gush of red-energy emerged...
                            
"i"...well... my grandmother had to get rid of Axl
after he almost tried to take my eye out
after... perfectly reasonable come to think of it...
he started biting my Alsatian ***** Bella
                 and i stood over him and in cold-blood
treated with "paint-brushings" of a PEJCZ...
             whip... honestly? some things sound so much
better in different language...
blitzkrieg sounds so much better than lightning-strike...

i still can't believe i managed to "****" the madam
of the brothel... she even tied her hair in pigtails
to give an impression of being younger...
my god... given her age... what an attractive specimen...
oh... and a plump girl can pull it off...
seriously...
                       but only when she gets older...
younger, plump girls... eh... nope... but when she gets older...
i just regret disappointing her...
but... a learning curve is a learning curve...
i'll have enough time to improve...
it's not like into video games... i never passed beyond
a PS1 games console... ergo...
there's plenty of night and nothing and brick-walls
to meditate / be ****** into... the odd sudoku...
a Chinese ideogram or my favourite:
a return to the syllables of Katakana...

all throughout i'm listening to just one song...
Salmonella Dub's Problems...
a New Zealand band...
                              back when i was a ***-smoker
i invested enough time to branch out
into a ***-smoker's type of music genres...
New Zealand...
   i worked two shifts at Twickenham...
first shift? England vs. New Zealand...
second shift? England vs. South Africa...
my god... the difference in spectators...
the South Africans felt... so proud... sort of ageless...
imagine a tribe of African living in Finland...
this is what it felt like... the New Zealanders seemed
like farmer-boys, sheep-shaggers, the Welsh...
they mingled and bred with the local population
of the Maori... the South Africans didn't...
South Africa once colonised by the English
fell into the hands of the Dutch...
    but these Dutch of South Africa weren't at all progressive...
of the modern day Netherlands...
they resembled escapee Nazis living Argentina...

we received the best compliments from the managing
team... our gate worked smoothly...
i don't know why i was given the megaphone
reciting robotic messages i.e.
a. 'ladies and gentlemen, please use all the available
turnstiles'...
b. 'ladies and gentlemen, pleasure ensure to use
the minimal traffic of all entry points via gate DELTA...'

Greek... hmm!
     fork in the road... so that's diFFer to... say...
hello sunshine:

      P            H
           Φ Θ    
      H            T             just add Poseidon's trident

of Psi into the mix... Ψ: alternatively see diFFer...
just so... the **** of iota of the omicron...
with psi emerging from the O that's an Omega
turned upside-down Ʊ + I = Ψ

    mind you... with these seeing, living eyes...
an F and an "F" mind sound the same...
but... the disparaging associations of meaning
create a... literacy barrier...
still persistent in the advent of graffiti...

the last time i beat an animal without eating it
was my second arrival of Maine **** cats
into the household...
i didn't know who the culprit was... so i smacked him
and i smacked her...
she was the honest one...
but the second time the incident happened...
well... by then i knew who was ******* in my bed...

i know that by quitting drinking i'll be the inverted
version of a bear... i know that i have sleeping
issues, which will become more exemplified
by a reached: hope for sustaining my sanity...
but this high-blood pressure ******* has left too much
turmoil in my head...

oh right, my father's rat to "non-existent" analogy
of my buying alcohol antics, smuggling bottles
of whiskey... alone, drinking... and then during
the day playing the party partisan of society...
like a fox... or rat... whichever...
what did i do today... i had a bed sobering up
session... and a in the cold sobering session...
i lay on the jacuzzi cover in the jacuzzi shed...
fidgeting... trying to conserve energy: i was fasting...
i folded my hands into an akimbo
putting one hand into the sleeve of another arm...
folding my trousers into my socks...
lying flat... then lifting my legs up
touching the beams of the shed...
      
             like, a wild, *******, animal...
i imagined: but i did... steal a slice of bread
from the kitchen... smearing it with butter...
again "stealing" a tub of a ****** speciality,
i.e. a vegetable salad consisting of raw celeriac,
raw Bramley apples... petit pois (canned),
cooked parsley roots, cooked carrots, cooked
potatoes. hard-boiled eggs... raw leaks...
all smeared with a dollop of mayonnaise...
pepper? yes please...
                           and a can of spicy tomato tinned
mackerels... eating it while standing up
in the 2nd shed... the 3rd shed has my father's work
tools and my Tour de France 2nd bicycle...
the Kolarzówka... which is a spring / summer bicycle...
it's not the autumn / winter mountain bicycle...

i hate cars... i adore buses...
if i hear some alpha bru'h trying to sell me a sports
car... i start to think of Dalmatians and...
can, you, ride, a, horse?!
owning a car makes absolutely no sense when living
in London or its vicinity...

oh **** me, even the thought of tomorrow shift is giving
me the Gremlins...
supervisor, again, why?! can't i be the break-guy?
i'm not even qualified... yet... i'm being given this
******* leeway like i earned it... oh, right,
i have earned it...
            i just don't want to experience
the fudge-packing headache of a delay in
constipation... which is not exactly a headache...
just a pulverising anti-music... a vibrating headache
that doesn't ache...
a vigilant reminder of: would i come out of
the Manchester Arena suicide bombing with PTSD?

i smile, i pause... i smile again... i clock faces...
it originates in my childhood...
this... sensation of numbing at the fingertips...
when... people... who don't own what
you own... are given a frightful... free... access...
and... you're sort of o.k with it...
you're not o.k. with it...
but you give up a stating ownership of objects for
the people using said objects for their own
pleasure... you feel pleasured by peoplg
being pleasured... but you just don't understand
why ownership of things is somehow important
a tier above the presence of the people
bypassing you owning and them: not owning
said, used, things, for that shared...
interaction... numbing of the fingertips...

i'm sad. Khadra is gone... Mona is gone too...
i'm left strapping myself to excitement and paranoia
and erectile dysfunction ******* the madam of
the brothel... watermelons, watermelons... watermelons...
ich spreschen Deutsche...
a bit like my surname... ******... Stalin...
made easier for English-speakers...
because... what the **** could they do with the addition
via E(sch)lert?!
                          oh sure as **** they couldn't find
the Slavic acute S in the Germanic SCH... could they?!

the only reason i have so much casual *** is...
i have yet to court a match of intellect in
the bedroom!
like i told the madam, excusing my limp-*******-****
situation... i shook her hand...
and this is what we do, formally...
but seeing you naked... touching your thighs...
your *******... my hands could talk for a seemingly
forever... and it would not tire me...
it would: embolden me!
things change... when... simply ******* prostitutes...
you get a stab... at... ******* the madam
of the establishment... you become nervous,
you become small... you become castrated...
you... hit rock bottom...
and then... Lucifer... Icarus.. what's up is down...
what's down is up!

you light a scented candle in your bedroom...
light your last cigarette...
does it matter that Muscovites are issuing concerns
over the Kiev-monstrum? no, not since the Orange
"Re-vo-lu-tion"...

i had... two... in all earnest... i had two... ****** revelations...
without all the chit-chat... two... both... prostitutes...
Mona and Khadra... a Romanian and a Turkish beau
respectively... there was only one woman in my life
that spoke... "respectably" similar level English to mine...
the rest... w either gave way to imagining Braille or...
whatever... but... insert crocodile...
why cry... when it, apparent ******* rains?!

i will miss them... tenderly, fully heartedly...
even as the Madam stroked my beard while i excused my
dysfunctional "third-party"...
                 why would a limp **** somehow diminish
my manhood... i.e. if a man is sized... surely...
a woman is sized too! a man's length and girth is also
reciprocated by a woman's depth and girth...
no?                              ergo?

plus all the mood swings that both the sexes share...
and have to... "en-ter-tain"...
but **** me... a madam of a brothel... me her and the pigtails...
well obviously i didn't deliver...
but... i'm thinking... if i quit drinking...
if i quit smoking...
that fat *** slurping lip brigade of an altogether
complete ****-buddy is waiting for me...
and i'm waiting for it... and the night and the foxes
and the crows are in my company...

well then! all the tales of vampires and werewolves...
can... become... true!
i can become a monster that understands
why... he feeds off being...
"casually" neglected...
why... it's not him who broke up with
a woman but the woman breaking up with him!
perfect!
which is why Mona and Khadra ****** up to
either Romania or Turkey, pregnant...
and i was left trying to **** the brothel's Madam..

melons melons! i'm telling you: **** like melons!
heartbreak and the heartless...
mind you... what's the other "thing" women notice
when courting...
apparently... ha ha... apparently... TEETH!
women like with no concern for dental insurance...
women like teeth... and hair...
i like... ****... what is it that i like?

                             i like snow... i like forests...
there's a difference between those more associated with oak
than those more associated with pine...
pines... entertain the existence of the scouts...
who are the scouts?! BIRCH... oak forests are the elders...
usually creating isolating environment
of island-dwellers...
               oaks don't appreciate birches...
and in terms of pines... well... in terms of pines and pins...
who's the one searching for the camel....
already in possession of the needle?!

my goblet of fine **** and saucy riches...
           i.e. my mouth...
                     i'll get ready...
as stated... once you **** your way up to having
the madam of the establishment that's
a brothel interested in you...
first time: disappointing her...
second time? you're going to quit drinking...
you're going to quit smoking...
you're going to sober up... simply because...
those ****... the fact that she's older than you by at least
one decade... and i like listening to horror movie
soundtracks... which makes perfect sense...
ugh... pristine nugget of fat and ageing...
it's like...
                  oh... ******* and jerking off...
that's off the table too...
        
             she's an ***-prized sort of a beached whale...
she's a Renaissance spectacle of the desirable woman...
plump... peachy...
now that i've had a taste... once the holidays
are over... when she asks for an entrance fee...
i'll need to seek out my hard-on in some other brothel...
paying her: sure... but only with you...
pigtails my ***...
                           freckle on her face...

then i'll start serving the concept of money...
Oslo? Brussels? Berlin... Berlin?!
ah... Bucharest...
                 no no... not south enough... Athens
i've already done... Istanbul...
        oh... wait... stop drinking... stop smoking...
regain friction with a hard-on...
**** the madam of the brothel...
   while her under-workers subscribe to texting each
other madly trying to figure out:
sq. not trg.!

now i'm becoming the baron of my own belly!
I.

One night at the Troubadour I spotted this extraordinary girl.

So I asked who she was.

‘A professional,’

That was my introduction that on a scale of one to ten

there were women who were fifteens—beautiful, bright, witty, and

oh, by the way, they worked.

Once I became aware,

I saw these women everywhere.

And I came to learn that most of them were connected to Alex



II.

She had a printer engrave a calling card

that featured a bird of paradise

borrowed from a Tiffany silver pattern

and,
under it,

Alex’s Aviary,

Beautiful and Exotic birds.



A few were women you’d see lunching at Le Dôme:

pampered arm pieces with expensive tastes

and a hint of a delicious but remote sexuality.

Many more were fresh-faced, athletic, tanned, freckled

the quintessential California girl

That you’d take for sorority queens or future BMW owners.





III.

The mechanism of Alex’s sudden notoriety is byzantine,

as these things always are.

One of her girls took up with a rotter,

the couple had a fight,

he went to the police,

the police had an undercover detective visit

(who just happened to be an attractive woman)

and ask to work for her,

she all but embraced her

—and by April of 1988 the district attorney had enough evidence

to charge her with two counts of pandering

and one of pimping.

For Alex, who is fifty-six

and has a heart condition and diabetes,

the stakes may be high.

A conviction carries the guarantee of incarceration.

For the forces of law and order,

the stakes may be higher.

Alex has let it be known that she will subpoena

every cop she’s ever met to testify at her trial.

And the revelations this might produce

—perhaps that Alex compromised policemen

by making girls available to them,

—perhaps that Alex had a deal with the police to provide information

in exchange for their blind eye to her activities

—could be hugely embarrassing to the police and the district attorney.

For Alex’s socially correct clients and friends,

for the socially correct wives of her clients and friends

and for a handful of movie and television executives

who have no idea they are dating or

married to former Alex girls,

the stakes are highest of all.



IV.

Alex’s black book is said to be a catalogue of
Le Tout Los Angeles.

In her head are the ****** secrets

of many of the city’s most important men,

to say nothing of visiting businessmen and Arab princes.

If she decides to warble,

either at her trial or in a book,

her song will shatter more than glass.





V.

A decade ago, I went to lunch at Ma Maison,

There were supposed to have been ten people there,

but only four came.

One of them was a short woman

who called me a few days later and invited me to lunch.

When I arrived, the table was set for two.

I didn’t know who Alex was or what she did,

but she knew the important facts of my situation:

I was getting divorced from a very wealthy man

and doing the legal work myself

to avail lawyers who wanted to get a big settlement for me.


Occasionally, she said, I get a call for a tall, dark-haired,

slender, flat-chested woman

—and I don’t have any.

It wouldn’t be a frequent thing.

There’d be weekends away, sometimes in Palm Springs,

sometimes in Europe.

The men will be elegant,

you’ll have your own room

—there would be no outward signs of impropriety.

And you’d get $10,000 to $20,000 for a weekend.





VI.

The tall, slender, flat-chested brunette

didn’t think it was right for her.

Alex handed her a business card

and suggested that she think about it.

To her surprise, she did

—for an entire week.

This was 1978, and $20,000 then

was like $40,000 now,

I knew it was hooking,

but Alex had never mentioned ***.



Our whole conversation seemed to be about something else.



VII.

I was born in Manila

to a Spanish-Filipina mother and German father,

and when I was twelve

a Japanese soldier came into our house

with his bayonet pointed at us,

ready to do us in.

He locked us in and set the house on fire.

I haven’t been scared by much since that.



My mother always struck me as goofy,

so I jumped on a bus and ran away,

I got off in Oakland,

saw a help-wanted sign on a parish house,

and went in.

I got $200 a month for taking care of four priests.

I spent all the money on pastries for the parish house.

But I didn’t care.

It felt safe.

And the priests sparked my interest in the domestic arts

—in linen, in crystal.



A new priest arrived.

He was unpleasant,

so on a vacation in Los Angeles I took a pedestrian job,

still a teenager,

married a scientist.

We separated eight years later,

he took our two sons to another state

threatened to keep them if I didn’t agree to a divorce.

Keep them I said and hung up.

It’s not that I don’t have a maternal instinct

—though I don’t,

I just hate to be manipulated.



My second husband,

an alcoholic,

had Frank Sinatra blue eyes, and possibly

—I never knew for sure—

had a big career in the underworld

as a contract killer.

Years before we got serious,

he was going out with a famous L.A. ******,

She and her friends were so elegant

that I started spending time with them in beauty salons.

They were so fancy,

so smart

—and they knew incredible people,

like the millionaire who sat in his suite all day

just writing $5,000 checks to girls.



VIII.

I was a florist.

We got to talking.

She was a madam from England

who wanted to sell her book and go home.

I bought it for $5,000.

My husband thought it was cute.

Now you’re getting your feet wet.

Three months later,

he died.

After eleven years of marriage,

just like that.

And of the names in the book

it turned out

that half of the men were also dead.

When I began the men were old and the women were ugly.



IX.

It was like a lunch party you or I would give,

Great food Alex had cooked herself.

Major giggles with old pals.

And then,

instead of chocolate After Eight,

she served three women After Three



This man has seen a bit of life

beyond Los Angeles,

so I asked him how Alex’s stable

compared with that of Madam Claude,

the legendary Parisian procuress.

Oh, these aren’t at all like Claude’s girls,

A Claude girl was perfectly dressed and multilingual

—you could take her to the opera

and she’d understand it.





He told me that when she was 40

she looked at herself in the mirror

and said

Disgusting.

People over 40

should not have ***.

But She Was Clear That She Never Liked It

even when she was young.

Besides, she saw all the street business

go to the tall,

beautiful girls.

She thought that she never had a chance

competing against them.

Instead,

she would take their money by managing them.





X.

Going to a ****** was not looked down upon then.

It was before the pill;

Girls weren’t giving it away.

Claude specialized in

failed models and actresses,

ones who just missed the cut.

But just because they failed

in those impossible professions

didn’t mean they weren’t beautiful,

fabulous.



Like Avis

in those days,

those girls tried harder.

Her place was off the Champs,

just above a branch of the Rothschild bank, where I had an account.

Once I met her,

I was constantly making withdrawals and heading upstairs.





XI.

We took the lift

and Claude greeted us at the door.

My impression was that of the director

of an haute couture house,

very subdued,

beige and gray, very little makeup.

She took us into a lounge and made us drinks,

Whiskey,

Cognac.

There was no maid.

We made small talk for 15 minutes.

How was the weekend?

What’s the weather like in Deauville?

Then she made the segue. ‘I understand you’d like to see some jeunes filles?’

She always used ‘jeunes filles.’

This was Claude’s polite way of saying 18 to 25.

She left and soon returned

with two very tall

jeunes filles,

One was blonde.

This is Eva from Austria.

She’s here studying painting.

And a brunette,

very different,

but also very fine.

This is Claudia from Germany.

She’s a dancer.

She took the girls back into the apartment and returned by herself.

I gave my English guest first choice.

He picked the blonde.

And wasn’t disappointed.

Each bedroom had its own bidet.

There was some nice

polite conversation, and then



It was slightly formal,

but it was high-quality.

He paid Claude

200 francs,

not to the girls

In 1965, 200 francs was about $40.

Pretty girls on Rue Saint-Denis

could be had for 40 francs

so you can see the premium.

Still, it wasn’t out of reach for mere mortals.

You didn’t have to be J. Paul Getty.





XII.

A lot of them

were models at

Christian Dior

or other couture houses.

She liked Scandinavians.

That was the look then

—cold, tall, perfect.

It was cheap for the quality.

They all used her.

The best people wanted

the best women.

Elementary supply and demand.



XIII.

She had a camp number tattooed on her wrist. I saw it.

She showed it to me and Rubi.

She was proud she had survived.

We talked about the camp for hours.

It was even more fascinating than the girls.



She was Jewish

I’m certain of that.

She was horrified at the Jewish collaborators

at the camp who herded

their fellow Jews

into the gas chambers.

That was the greatest betrayal in her life.



XIV.

She was this sad,

lonely little woman.

Later, Patrick told me who she was.

I was bowled over.

It was like meeting Al Capone.

I met two of the girls

who worked for her.

One was what you would expect

Tall

Blonde

Model.

But the other looked like a Rat

Then one night

she came out

all dressed up,

I didn’t even recognize her.

She was even better than the first girl.

Claude liked to transform women like that.

That was her art.

It was very odd,

my cousin told me.

There was not much furniture

and an awful lot of telephones.

“Allô oui,”



XV.

I had so many lunches

with Claude at Ma Maison

She was vicious.

One day,

Margaux Hemingway,

at the height of her beauty, walked by.

Une bonne

—the French for maid

was how Claude cut her dead.

She reduced

the entire world

to rich men wanting *** and

poor women wanting money.

She’d love to page through Vogue and see someone

and say,

When I met her

she was called

Marlene

and she had a hideous nose

and now she’s a princess.

Or she’d see someone and say

Let’s see if she kisses me or not.

It was like

I made her,

and I can destroy her.

She was obsessed

with “fixing” people

—with Saint Laurent clothes,

with Cartier watches,

with Winston jewels,

with Vuitton luggage,

with plastic surgeons.



XVI.

Her prison number was

888

which was good luck in China

but not in California.

‘Ocho ocho ocho,’ she liked to repeat

Even in jail, she was always working,

always recruiting stunning women.

She had a beautiful Mexican cellmate

and gave her Robert Evans’s number

as the first person she should call

when she was released.



XVII.

Never have *** on the first date.



XVIII.

There will always be prostitution,

The prostitution of misery.

And the prostitution of bourgeois luxury.

They will both go on forever.



“Allô oui,”



It was so exciting to hear a millionaire

or a head of state ask,

in a little boy’s voice,

for the one thing

that only you could provide

It's not how beautiful you are, it's how you relate

--it's mostly dialogue.



She was tiny, blond, perfectly coiffed and Chanel-clad.

The French Woman: The Arab Prince, the Japanese Diplomat, the Greek Tycoon, the C.I.A. Bureau Chief — She Possessed Them All!



XIX.

She was like a slave driver in the American South

Once she took a *******,

the makeover put the girl in debt,

because Claude paid all the bills to

Dior,

Vuitton,

to the hairdressers,

to the doctors,

and the girls had to work to pay them off.

It was ****** indentured servitude.



My Swans.



It reached the point

where if you walked into a room

in London

or Rome

as much as Paris

because the girls were transportable,

and saw a girl who was

better-dressed,

better-looking,

and more distinguished than the others

you presumed

it was a girl from Claude.

It was, without doubt,

the finest *** operation ever run in the history of mankind.



**.

The girl had to be

exactly what was needed

so I had to teach her everything she didn’t know.

I played a little the role of Pygmalion.

There were basic things that absolutely had to be done.

It consisted

at the start

of the physical aspect

“surgical intervention”

to give this way of being

that was different from other girls.

Often they had to be transformed

into dream creatures

because at the start

they were not at all



Often I had to teach them how to dress.

Often they needed help

to repair

what nature had given them

which was not so beautiful.

At first they had to be tall,

with pretty gestures,

good manners.

I had lots of noses done,

chins,

teeth,

*******.

There was a lot to do.



Eight times out of ten

I had to teach them how to behave in society.

There were official dinners, suppers, weekends,

and they needed to have conversation.

I insisted they learn to speak English,

read

certain books.

I interrogated them on what they read.

It wasn’t easy.

Each time something wasn’t working,

I was obliged to say so.



You were very demanding?

I was ferocious.



It’s difficult

to teach a girl how to walk into Maxim’s

without looking

ill at ease

when they’ve never been there,

to go into an airport,

to go to the Ritz,

or the Crillon

or the Dorchester.

To find yourself

in front of a king,

three princes,

four ministers,

and five ambassadors at an official dinner.

There were the wives of those people!

Day after day

one had to explain,

explain again,

start again.

It took about two years.

There would always be a man

who would then say of her,

‘But she’s absolutely exceptional. What is that girl doing here?’ ”





XXI.

A New York publisher who visited

the Palace Hotel

in Saint Moritz

in the early seventies told me,

I met a whole bunch of them there.

They were lovely.

The johns wanted everyone to know who they were.

I remember it being said

Giovanni’s Madame Claude girl is going to be there.

You asked them where they came from and they all said

Neuilly.

Claude liked girls from good families.

More to the point she had invented their backgrounds.



I have known,

because of what I did,

some exceptional and fascinating men.

I’ve known some exceptional women too,

but that was less interesting

because I made them myself.



Ah, this question of the handbag.

You would be amazed by how much dust accumulates.

Or how often women’s shoe heels are scuffed.





XXII.

She would examine their teeth and finally she would make them undress.



That was a difficult moment

When they arrived they were very shy,

a bit frightened.

At the beginning when I take a look,

it’s a question of seeing if the silhouette

and the gestures are pretty.

Then there was a disagreeable moment.

I said,

I’m sorry about this unpleasantness,

but I have to ask you to get undressed,

because I can’t talk about you unless I see you.

Believe me, I was embarrassed,

just as they were,

but it had to be done,

not out of voyeurism, not at all

—I don’t like les dames horizontales.



It was very funny

because there were always two reactions.

A young girl,

very sure of herself,

very beautiful,

très bien,

would say

Yes,

Get up, and get undressed.

There was nothing to hide, everything was perfect.



There were those who

would start timidly

to take off their dress

and I would say

I knew already.

The rest is not sadism, but nearly.

I knew what I was going to find.

I would say,

Maybe you should take off your bra,

and I knew it wasn’t going to be

beautiful.

Because otherwise she would have taken it off easily.

No problem.

There were damages that could be mended.

There were some ******* that could be redone,

some not

Sometimes it can be deceptive,

you know,

you see a pretty girl,

a pretty face,

all elegant and slim,

well dressed,

and when you see her naked

it is a catastrophe.



I could judge their physical qualities,

I could judge if she was pretty, intelligent, and cultivated,

but I didn’t know how she was in bed.

So I had some boys,

good friends,

who told me exactly.

I would ring them up and say,

There’s a new one.

And afterwards they’d ring back and say,

Not bad,

Could be better, or

Nulle.



Or,

on the contrary,

She’s perfect.

And I would sometimes have to tell the girls

what they didn’t know.

A pleasant assignment?

No.

They paid.



XXIII.

Often at the beginning

they had an ami de coeur

in other words,

oh,

a journalist, a photographer, a type like that,

someone in the cinema,

an actor, not very well known.

As time went by

It became difficult

because they didn’t have a lot of time for him.

The fact of physically changing,

becoming prettier,

changing mentally to live with millionaires,

produced a certain imbalance

between them

and the little boyfriend

who had not evolved

and had stayed in his milieu.

At the end of a certain time

she would say,

I’m so much better than him. Why am I with this boy?

And they would break up by themselves.



Remember,

this was instant elevation.

For most of them it was a dream existence,

provided they liked the ***,

and those that didn’t never lasted long.

A lot of the clients were young,

and didn’t treat them like tarts but like someone from their own class.

They would buy you presents,

take you on trips.



XXIV.

For me, *** was something very accessoire

I think after a certain age

there are certain spectacles one should not give to others

Now I have a penchant for solitude.

Love, it’s a complete destroyer,

It’s impossible,

a horror,

l’angoisse.

It’s the only time in my life I was jealous.

I’m not a jealous person, but I was épouvantable.

He was jealous too.

We broke plates over each other’s heads;

we became jealous about each other’s pasts.

I said one day

It’s finished.

Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and say:

Break my legs,

give me scarlet fever,

an attack of TB, but never that.

Not that.



XXV.

I called her into my office

Let us not exaggerate,

I sent her away.

She came back looking for employment,

but was fired again, this time for drugs.

She made menacing phone calls.

Then she arrived at the Rue de Boulainvilliers with a gun.

She shot three bullets

I was dressed in the fashion of Courrèges at this moment

He did very padded things.

I had a padded dress with a little jacket on top.

The bullet

—merci, Monsieur Courrèges

—stuck in the padding.

I was thrown forward onto the telephone.

I had one thought which went through my head:

I will die like Kennedy.

I turned round and put my hand up in a reflex.

The second bullet went through my hand.

I have two dead fingers.

It’s most useful for removing bottle tops.

In the corridor I was saved from the third bullet

because she was very tall

and I am quite petite, so it passed over my head.



XXVI.

There were men

who could decapitate,

****, and bomb their rivals

who would be frightened of me.

I would ask them how was the girl,

and they’d say

Not bad

and then

But I’m not complaining.

I was a little sadistic to them sometimes.

Some women have known powerful men because they’re their lover.

But I’ve known them all.

I had them all

here.



She will take many state secrets with her.



XXVI.

I don’t like ugly people

probably because when I was young

I wasn’t beautiful at all.

I was ugly and I suffered for it,

although not to the point of obsession.

Now that I’m an old woman,

I’m not so bad.

And that’s why

I’ve always been surrounded by people

Who

were

beautiful.

And the best way to have beautiful people around me

was to make them.

I made them very pretty.





XXVII.

I wouldn’t call what Alex gives you

‘advice,’

She spares you Nothing.

She makes a list of what she wants done,

and she really gets into it

I mean, she wants you to get your arms waxed.

She gives you names of people who do good facials.

She tells you what to buy at Neiman Marcus.

She’s put off by anything flashy,

and if you don’t dress conservatively, she’s got no problem telling you,

in front of an audience,

You look like a cheap *****!

I used to wear what I wanted when I went out

then change in the car into a frumpy sweater

when I went to give her the money she’d always go,

Oh, you look beautiful!



Marry your boyfriend,

It’s better than going to prison.

When you go out with her,

she’ll buy you a present; she’s incredibly generous that way.

And she’ll always tell you to save money and get out.

It’s frustrating to her when girls call at the end of the month

and say they need rent money.

She wants to see you do well.





We had a schedule, with cards that indicated a client’s name,

what he liked,

the names of the girls he’d seen,

and how long he’d been with them.

And I only hired girls who had another career

—if my clients had a choice between drop-dead-gorgeous

and beautiful-and-interesting,

they’d tend to take beautiful-and-interesting.

These men wanted to talk.

If they spent two hours with a girl,

they usually spent only five or ten minutes in bed.



I get the feeling that in Los Angeles, men are more concerned with looks.



XXVIII.

That was my big idea

Not to expand the book by aggressive marketing

but to make sure that nobody

mistook my girls for run-of-the-mill hookers.

And I kept my roster fresh.

This was not a business where you peddle your ***,

get exploited,

and then are cast off.

I screen clients. I’ve never sent girls to weirdos.

I let the men know:

no violence,

no costumes,

no fudge-packing.

And I talked to my girls. I’d tell them:

Two and a half years and you’re burned out.

Save your money.

This is like a hangar

—you come in, refuel, and take off.

It’s not a vacation, it’s not a goof.

This buys the singing lessons,

the dancing lessons,

the glossies.

This is to help you pay for what your parents couldn’t provide.

It’s an honorable way station—a lot of stars did this.



XXIX.

To say someone was a Claude girl is an honour, not a slur.



Une femme terrible.

She despised men and women alike.

Men were wallets. Women were holes.



By the 80s,

if you were a brunette,

the sky was the limit.

The Saudis

They’d call for half a dozen of Alex’s finest,

ignore them all evening while they

chatted,

ate,

and played cards,

and then, around midnight,

take the women inside for a fast few minutes of ***.



They’d order women up like pizza.



Since my second husband died,

I only met one man who was right for me,

He was a sheikh.

I visited him in Europe

twenty-eight times

in the five years I knew him

and I never slept with him.

He’d say

I think you fly all the way here just to tease me,

but he introduced me

by phone

to all his powerful friends.

When I was in Los Angeles, he called me twice a day.

That’s why I never went out

he would have been disappointed.



***.

Listen to me

This is a woman’s business.

When a woman does it, it’s fun

there’s a giggle in it

when a man’s involved,

he’s ******,

he’s a ****.

He may know how to keep girls in line,

and he may make money,

but he doesn’t know what I do.

I tell guys: You’re getting a nice girl.

She’s young,

She’s pleasant,

She can do things

she can certainly make love.

She’s not a rocket scientist, but she’s everything else.



The world’s richest and most powerful men, the announcer teased.

An income “in the millions,” said the arresting officer.

Pina Colapinto

A petite call girl,

who once slid between the sheets of royalty,

a green-eyed blonde helped the police get the indictment.

They really dolled her up

She looks great.

Never!

What I told her was: ‘Wash that ******.’





XXXI.

Madam Alex died at 7 p.m.

Saturday at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center,

where she had been in intensive care after recent open heart surgery

We all held her hand when they took her off the life support

This was the passing of a legend.

Because she was the mother superior of prostitution.

She was one of the richest women on earth.

The world came to her.

She never had to leave the house.

She was like Hugh Hefner in that way.


It's like losing a friend

In all the years we played cat and mouse,

she never once tried to corrupt me.

We had a lot of fun.


To those who knew her

she was as constant

as she was colorful

always ready with a good tidbit of gossip

and a gourmet lunch for two.

She entertained, even after her conviction on pandering charges,

from the comfy depths of her blue four-poster bed at her home near Doheny Drive,

surrounded by knickknacks and meowing cats,

which she fed fresh shrimp from blue china plates.



XXXII.

She stole my business,

my books,

my girls,

my guys.

I had a good run.

My creatures.

Make Mommy happy

Oh! He is the most enchanting cat that I have ever known.



She was, how can I say it,

classy.

When she first hired me

she thought I was too young to take her case.

I was 43.

I'm going to give you some gray hairs by the time this is over.

She was right.





XXXIII.

I was fond of Heidi

But she has a streak that is so vindictive.



If there is pure evil, it is Madame Alex.





XXXIV.

I was born and raised in L.A.

My dad was a famous pediatrician.

When he died, they donated a bench to him at the Griffith Park Observatory.



I think that Heidi wanted to try her wings

pretty early,

and I think that she met some people

who sort of took all her potential

and gave it a sharp turn



She knew nothing.

She was like a little parrot who repeated what she was supposed to say.



Alex and I had a very intense relationship;

I was kind of like the daughter she loved and hated,

so she was abusive and loving at the same time.



Look, I know Madam Alex was great at what she did

but it's like this:

What took her years to build,

I built in one.

The high end is the high end,

and no one has a higher end than me.

In this business, no one steals clients.

There's just better service.



XXXV.

You were not allowed to have long hair

You were not allowed to be too pretty

You were not allowed to wear too much makeup or be too glamorous

Because someone would fall in love with you and take you away.

And then she loses the business



XXXVI.

I was pursued because

come on

in our lifetime,

we will never see another girl of my age

who lived the way I did,

who did what I did so quickly,

I made so many enemies.

Some people had been in this line of business

for their whole lives, 30 or 40 years,

and I came in and cornered the market.

Men don't like that.

Women don't like that.

No one liked it.



I had this spiritual awakening watching an Oprah Winfrey video.

I was doing this 500-hour drug class

and one day the teacher showed us this video,

called something like Make It Happen.

Usually in class I would bring a notebook

and write a letter to my brother or my journal,

but all of a sudden this grabbed my attention

and I understood everything she said.

It hit me and it changed me a lot.

It made me feel,

Accept yourself for who you are.

I saw a deeper meaning in it

but who knows, I might have just been getting my period that day!



XXXVII.

Hello, Gina!

You movie star!

Yes you are!

Gina G!

Hello my friend,

Hello my friend,

Hello my movie star,

Ruby! Ruby Boobie!

Braaawk!

Except so many women say,

Come on, Heidi

you gotta do the brothel for us; don't let us down.

It would be kind of fun opening up an exclusive resort,

and I'll make it really nice,

like the Beverly Hills Hotel

It'll feel private; you'll have your own bungalow.

The only problem out here is the climate—it's so brutal.

Charles Manson was captured a half hour from Pahrump.



I said, Joe! What are you doing?

You gotta get, like,

a garter belt and encase it in something

and write,

This belonged to Suzette Whatever,

who entertained the Flying Tigers during World War II.

Get, like, some weird tools and write,

These were the first abortion tools in the brothel,

you know what I mean?

Just make some **** up!

So I came out here to do some research

And then I realized,

What am I doing?

I'm Heidi Fleiss. I don't need anyone.

I can do this.

When I was doing my research, in three months

I saw land go from 30 thousand an acre

to 50 thousand an acre,

and then it was going for 70K!

It's urban sprawl

—we're only one hour from Las Vegas.

Out here the casinos are only going to get bigger,

prostitution is legal, it's only getting better.





XXXVIII.

The truth is

deep down inside,

I just can't do business with him

He's the type of guy who buys Cup o' Noodles soup for three cents

and makes his hookers buy it back from him for $5.

It's not my style at all.

Who wants to be 75 and facing federal charges?

It was different at my age when I

at least...come on, I lived really well.

I was 22,

25 at the time?

It was fun then, but now I wouldn't want

to deal with all that *******

—the girls and blah blah blah.

But the money was really good.



I would've told someone they were out of their ******* mind

if they'd said in five years I'd be living with all these animals like this.

It's hard-core; how I live;

It's totally a nonfunctional atmosphere for me

It's hard to get anything done because

It’s so time-consuming.

I feel like they're good luck though....

I do feel that if I ever get rid of them,

I will be jinxed and cursed the rest of my life

and nothing I do will ever work again.



Guys kind of are a hindrance to me

Certainly I have no problem getting laid or anything.

But a man is not a priority in my life.

I mean, it's crazy, but I really have fun with my parrots.



XXXIX.

I started a babysitting circle when I wasn't much older than 9

And soon all the parents in the neighborhood

wanted me to watch over their children.

Even then I had an innate business sense.

I started farming out my friends

to meet the demand.

My mother showered me with love and my father,

a pediatrician,

would ask me at the dinner table,

What did you learn today?

I ran my neighborhood.

I just pick up a hustle really easily,

I was a waitress and I met an older guy who looked like Santa Claus.



Alex was a 5' 3" bald-headed Filipina

in a transparent muu muu.

We hit it off.

I didn't know at the time that I was there to pay off the guy's gambling debt.

It's in and out,

over and out.

Do you think some big-time producer

or actor is going to go to the clubs and hustle?



Columbia Pictures executive says:

I haven’t done anything that should cause any concern.

Jeez, it's like the Nixon enemies list.

I hope I'm on it.

If I'm not, it means I must not be big enough

for people to gossip about me.



That's right ladies and gentlemen.

I am an alleged madam and that is a $25 *****!

If you live out here,

you've got to hate people.

You've got to be pretty antisocial

How you gonna come out here with only 86 people?

That's Fred.

He's digging to China.

You look good.

Yeah, you too.

It's coming along here.

Yeah, it is.

I wanted to buy that lot there, but I guess it's gone?

That's mine, man! That's all me.

Really?

I thought there was a lot between us.

No. We're neighbors.



He's a cute guy

He's entertaining.

See, I kind of did do something shady to him.

I thought my property went all the way back

and butted up against his.

But there was one lot between us right there.

He said he was buying it,

but I saw the 'For Sale' sign still up there,

So I went and called the broker and said,

I'm an all-cash buyer.

So I really bought it out from under him.

But he's got plenty of room, and I need the space for my parrots.

Pahrump will always be Pahrump, but Crystal is going to be nice

All you need are four or five fancy houses and it'll flush everyone out

and it'll be a nice area.

They're all kind of weird here, but these people will go.

Like this guy here,

someone needs to **** him.

I was just saying to my dad that these parrots are born to a really ******-up world

He goes, Heidi, no, no; the world is a beautiful garden.

It's just, people are destroying it.

I’m looking into green building options

I don't want anything polluting,

I want a huge auditorium,

but it'll be like a jungle where my birds can really fly!

Where they can really do what they're supposed to do.

There were over 300 birds in there!

That lady,

She ran the exotic-birds department for the Tropicana Hotel,

which is a huge job.

She called me once at 3:30 in the morning

Come over here and help me feed this baby!

Some baby parrot.

And I ran over there in my pajamas

—I knew there was something else wrong

and she was like

Get me my oxygen!

Get me this, get me that.

I called my dad; he was like,

I don't know, honey, you better call the paramedics.

They ended up getting a helicopter.

And they were taking her away

in the wind with her IV and blood and everything

and she goes, Heidi, you take care of my birds.

And she dies the next day.

She was just a super-duper person.



XL.

I relate to the lifestyle she had before,

Now, I'm just a citizen.

I'm clean,

I'm sober,

I'm married,

I work at Wal-Mart.

I'm proud to say I know her. I look into her eyes

and we relate.





I got out in 2000,

so I've been sending her money for seven years

She was…whatever.

Girlfriend?

Yeah, maybe.

But ***, I tried like two times,

and I'm just not gay.

She gets out in about eight or nine months

and I told her I would get her a house.

But nowhere near me.

I didn't touch her,

but I'd be, like...

a funny story:

I told her,

Don't you ever ******* think

about contacting me in the real world.

I'm not a lesbian.

Then about two years ago, I got an e-mail from her,

or she called me and said, 'Google my name.'

So I Googled her name,

and she has this huge company.

Huge!

She won, like, Woman of the Year awards.

So I called her and I go,

Not bad.

She goes, 'Well, I did all that because you called me a loser.'

I go, '****, I should've called you more names

you probably would've found the cure for cancer by now.



XLI.

No person shall be employed by the licensee

who has ever been convicted of

a felony involving moral turpitude

But I qualify,

I mean, big deal, so I'm a convicted felon.

Being in the *** industry, you can't be so squeaky-clean.

You've got to be hustling.

Nighttime is really enchanting here

It's like a whole 'nother world out here, it really is

I’m so far removed from my social life and old surroundings.

Who was it, Oscar Wilde, I think, who said

people can adjust to anything.

I was perfectly adjusted in the penitentiary,

and I was perfectly adjusted to living in a château in France.



We had done those drug addiction shows together

Dr. Drew.

Afterward we were friendly

and he'd call me every now and then.

He'd act like he had his stuff together.

But it was all a lie.

Everything is a lie.

I brought him to a Humane Society event at Paramount Studios last year.

He was just such a mess.

So out of it.

He stole money from my purse.

He's such a drug addict because he's so afraid of being fat.

He liked horse ****, though. He did like horse ****.

This one woman that would have *** with a horse on the internet,

He told me that’s his favorite actress.

Better than Meryl Streep.



XLII.

The cops could see

why these women were taking over trade.

Girls with these looks charged upwards of $500 an hour.

The Russians had undercut them with a bargain rate of $150 an hour.

One thing they are not is lazy.

In the USSR

they grew up with no religion, no morality.

Prostitution is not considered a bad thing.

In fact, it’s considered a great way to make money.

That’s why it’s exploding here.

What we saw was just a tip of the iceberg.

These girls didn’t come over here expecting to be nannies.

They knew exactly what they wanted and what they were getting into.

The madam who organized this raid

was making $4 million a year,

laundered through Russian-owned banks in New York City

These are brutal people.

They are all backstabbers.

They’re entrepreneurs.

They’re looking at $10,000 a month for turning tricks.

For them, that’s the American dream.



XLIII.

If you’re not into something,

don’t be into it

But,

if you want to take some whipped cream,

put it between your toes,

have your dog licking it up and,

at the same time,

have your girlfriend poke you in the eye,

then that’s fine.

That’s a little weird but we shouldn’t judge.



She was my best friend then

and I consider her one of my best friends now,

because when I was going through Riker’s

and everyone abandoned me,

including my boyfriend,

I was hysterical,

crying,

and she was the one that was there.

And, when somebody needed to step up to the plate,

that’s who did, and I have an immense amount of

loyalty, respect, and love for her.

And if she’s going to prison for eight years

—that’s what she’s sentenced for

—I’ll go there,

and I’ll go there every week,

for eight years.

That’s the type of person I am.

The Tragic True LOVE Story of Blanche Monnier

Just for falling in LOVE
With a commoner
Blanche Monnier was kept in attic
For 25 years
Blanche's True LOVE survived


The year was 1876

In midst of the Third Republic period in France
When the historical power struggle of royalist ******* and republican radicals were discussed in bourgeois socialites
That's the time when
In a small place called Poitiers
Four hours away from Paris
There lived:
Madam Louise Monnier
Wealthy and prominent
Member of CLASS society
Known in Parisian high society
For their charitable works
Who had received many community awards too

With her son
Marcel Monnier
A brilliant student
And a prominent lawyer
Well respected in Paris

And her daughter
Blanche
(Marcel's sister)
Twenty Five years old
Beautiful beyond words
Intelligent
Very gentle and good natured
A young socialite in rich circles

Lived happily in their
Monnier Estate

It was during this time
Blanche fell in LOVE with a suitor
Let us call him
James
Who lived in her neighborhood
Sadly he was not young
Nor was he from rich aristocrat family
He was elderly man,
Basically a commoner
And an unsuccessful penniless lawyer

Madam Louise Monnier - disapproved
Of such alliances for her daughter Blanche and
Insisted Blanche to marry a more suitable man
Of her own age, class and status

But in passion of her LOVE -
Blanche profusely disagreed
And Madame Monnier got angry
They quarreled and argued
One day Madame Monnier locked Blanche
In a dungeon attic ordering
"Until you would agree - you are imprisoned"

Years passed
But Blanche was stubborn
So much in deep LOVE with James
She did not relent to her Mother's wishes

So the story goes....
Nine years passed

On this side James - Blanche's suitor
The beau too died in 1885

It is said that
Blanche's brother Marcel apposed his mother
To at least set Blanche FREE now
But Madam Louise Monnier had absolute
Stronghold and control over the family
Thus Marcel aboded to his mother's decree
And Blanche was kept locked still after

In the eyes of society
Beautiful young Blanche had simply disappeared
Without a clue

Madame Monnier and Marcel mourned
In front of everyone
Stating Blanche ran away
And continued to live their lives
As normal as those rich aristocrat families live

No one gave much thought to this
Everyone went about their life
As if nothing had happened

With time - they say
Blanche was forgotten
From everyone's memory

For over 25 years,
Blanche remained in a attic dungeon
Tied to her bed
Waiting for her LOVE
To LOVE, to be LOVED by JAMES
But her mother Madam Louise,
And her brother Marcel
With their two servants
No one helped her to be FREE

Blanched was chained in a dark attic room
She was accompanied by rats and lice
Day after day
Living in dirt and darkness
Alone, isolated, in solitude
Blanche became insane
Drown in her own tears and
In company of
Rats, bugs and pests...
And rotten odor

Rumors say that it was one of the female servants
Who slipped the secret of
Monnier Estate's beautiful daughter Blanche
To her boyfriend
Who immediately wrote a letter to
The Attorney General

In 1901,
Attorney General of Paris
Received an anonymous note
Handwritten and unsigned

The content were disturbing
And The Attorney General
Sent his police team to investigate
The Police arrived to search Monnier Estate

At first,
Police couldn't find anything unusual
Until they came across strange odor
Coming from upper floors

When the Police went upstairs
Madam Louise Monnier sat
On the ground floor living hall
Calmly reading a book

When the Police approached
The attic room
From where the odor was coming
They saw that the room was padlocked

Realizing something amiss
Police smashed the lock and
Broke open the room

The horrors lay within

A pitch dark room
With only one window
Shut closed with black curtains

The stench of room was so over whelming
That immediately the window was broke open

With the light coming in
The police realized that the bad odor
Was because of rotting food
That littered all over the floor

And in a corner - there was a bed
Where an emaciated women was chained

She was our Blanche Monnier
Fifty years old now
Tied to the bed
It was over two decades
She had not even seen the sun
And she had lived
In her own excrements

That beauty of youth
That youthful LOVELY being
A divine, kind, pure hearted girl
Did not even resembled like a human

She was naked
Chained like animals to the bed
Lying on a straw mattress

She was completely
Frightened and delirious

She weighed just 50 pounds (22 kilograms)

Police covered Blanche in a white sheet
And took her to the hospital
Madam Louise Monnier - and Marcel were arrested
For this atrocious inhumane crime
Of imprisoning and treating Blanche
So badly
For what? -
for a natural act of LOVING

"We can not even comprehend
What a LOVER goes through
When subjected to such punishments"


Blanche was horrendously malnourished
In hospital she was lucid to be rescued and freed
She exclaimed...
"How lovely it is to breathe the fresh air"

When she was informed about James
She could not even remember
The reason for her current state -
Was "LOVE"
Her eyes were hollow, her face was blank

There was public out-cry all over France
It was loud and clear
Public out-raged was brimming
They wanted the mother and brother punished

And Madam Louise Monnier -
Who was seventy years old then
suffering from heart disease
Could not take the shock
Of such societal backlash
For the horrible crime she committed

It is accounted that
Madam Louise Monnier
Died in police custody
15 days after Blanche's rescue
Police say -
Probably of a heart attack

Brother Marcel was imprisoned for 15 months
He confessed of
Not being directly part of the crime
But just acting under pressure of his mother

The whole blame was put on Madam Louise Monnier
Brother Marcel was considered only an accomplice
And thus when Marcel pleaded innocent and sought pardon
He was acquitted and set FREE
Such were the laws of those days

Our LOVER - Blanche Monnier
Had suffered greatly
The mental trauma
Of LOVE longing had
Lasting psychological damage

There after
Blanche lived in a French Sanitarium
Till she died in 1913
Twelve year after she was liberated

People say - that at times
The nursing staff used to hear Blanche
Sing the songs of LOVE

And they used to see Blanche
Talking LOVINGLY with a non-existing person
Most probably that person was "James"
The man she LOVED more than her life

Thus is remembered
The story of Blanche's LOVE

She suffered but never relented
To her mother's wishes
"To forget her LOVER James"

It was impossible to survive for 25 years
Without proper food, light, sun, or any human company
In that tiny dark dungeon attic
But Blanche did miraculously survive
With the hope that one day
She will be FREE
She will meet James
And she will LOVE James
And she will say to James
"My Jamie, see I did truly LOVE YOU"

That's the power of TRUE LOVE
This is a TRUE STORY
Arcassin B Jun 2015
By Arcassin Burnham

The world is gone to hell up in thunder,
What's beyond this earth , we've always wondered,
I needed someone to fulfil me,
and you did only that when you were younger,
stayed by my side when we were youngsters,
carried out our guns and roses,
that's a cozy way of hearing voices,
I never doubted the young lady you were,
in our world we have a say-so in every amazing thing to occur,
we are not long for this earth,
touching her skin,
admire her birth,
Both had it hard in school,
but who hasn't?,
suppose to know your worth,
those kids gave you hard time aside from your bad habits,
walking to your house every other weekend just to explore a dream that we made,
Higher than angel dust and 12 packs of cherry koolaid,
cool as the other end of the bed you made,
with several pizza stains,
the icebox could not be as chill as what you displayed,
Madam
I'd be your slave madam,
ill be the one to throw the shade madam,
if were right here , kiss all over your face madam,
so for what we've built they can't take away madam,
I couldn't be anymore proud madam,
known you when you were a child madam,
I love you more than God's crown madam,
forever in my heart you'll be young and wild,
Madam
I'll always remember your younger days.
I love you madam ❤❤
I worked for a woman,
She wasn't mean--
But she had a twelve-room
House to clean.

Had to get breakfast,
Dinner, and supper, too--
Then take care of her children
When I got through.

Wash, iron, and scrub,
Walk the dog around--
It was too much,
Nearly broke me down.

I said, Madam,
Can it be
You trying to make a
Pack-horse out of me?

She opened her mouth.
She cried, Oh, no!
You know, Alberta,
I love you so!

I said, Madam,
That may be true--
But I'll be dogged
If I love you!
John Newlin Mar 2019
Alas Dear Madam

Alas, dear Madam, have I thee wronged
by gesture, savage word, or deed,
thus giving thee cause for sorrow,
importuning your heart to bleed?

Have I, dear Madam, given thee
injury so rank and so low
as to merit your cool design
to suffer me the status quo?

Dear Madam, have I deceived thee
and showered thee with silken lies,
or primed thee with honeyed words
that cloak dark purpose in disguise?

Nay, dear Madam, no wrong to thee
did I meanly perpetrate.
no grievous sin did I commit,
nor cold insult dedicate.

My grossest error, dear Madam,
was to unknowingly explore
the pride sleeping in your *****
and its delicacy ignore.

So, dear Madam, please forgive me
for the numb bruises I thee gave
to that one part of a woman
which no man should ever brave.
preservationman Aug 2014
More than mire lips and hips
A woman being her own crook
All you have to do is take a look
They don’t call her Madam Dynamite for nothing
She uses explosives to break in
Being thief on the signal of can
Madam Dynamite moves ever so firmly in the female style
All this during crime waves in while
Madam Dynamite name is a sight to behold
There are many stories that have been told
Explosions upon explosions with name engraved “Madam Dynamite”
However for justice to solve, it has become a plight
Yet all the crime waves all occurred at night
Darkness in the black
Justice in battle being in the middle of smack
Madam Dynamite ready to explode
Justice is carrying quite a heavy lot
Yet Justice will prevail and this I have been told
Until next time, try not to explode.
Test Ting Won To Tree
By
Charles Fleischer







Rifleman decal water is to Tiny basket liners as Strained yo-yo string is to?
Dark wool glowing is to Oldest lost oddity as First genetic engine is to?
Black quail taint is to Nut curdled paint as Hemp biscuit dominoes are to?
Steam traced paper is to Lemon ash vapor as Digital ****** wig is to?
Eccentric brine mimes are to Electric silk slacks as Spark formed lava is to?
Sunchoked black hornets are to as Rescued orphan doves as Retold cat jokes are to?
Hand traced videos are to Braided rubber spines as Opal rain dancers are to?
Halogen anchor gong is to Annoying bread portraits as Soft bracelet lockers are to?
Old troll bios are to Select cherub echoes as Broken matchstick parasols are to?
Dome nine chariots are to Frayed lunar remnants as Fuming honey flasks are to?
Bluing assault operas is to Beading fluted flowers as Magnetic lawn tweezers are to?
Converted flea sponges are to Floating dog murals as Frozen Archie comics are to?
Molded road pads are to Crusty gumdrop thread as Straw ribbed pelicans are to?
Inflatable diamond vowel is to Single gender raffle as Groovy desert coffee is to?
Temporary solution radiation is to Idiotic witness mumble as Motorized marshmallow kit is to?
Panoramic utopian paranoia is to Aggravated **** silhouettes as Unhinged gun sellers are to?
Homesick ghost pajamas is to Virtuous fly fungus as Royal sandpaper gloves are to?
Gangster hayride tickets are to Deer milk Oreos as Turnip fairy maps are to?
Glue gun **** is to Nocturnal cabin mice as Cab fare corn is to?
Speckled fish nickels are to Under water bric-a-brac as Epic snakeskin paisley is to?
******* bungalow pranks are to Drowsy vapid oafs as Quantized cavern fish are to?
Raunchy snail kimono is to Coiled time dice as Smeared equator malt is to?
Metallic centaur franchise is to Transparent cheese chess as Spotted glacial remnants is to?
Sky fused pong is to Rustic mothers brattle as Granulated canister ointment is to?
Overgrown maze mule is to Mated smugglers hugging as Floating thesaurus exam is to?
Sliding coed sprinkler is to Soapy whitefish rebate as Precious lamb diaper is to?
Mushy acorn luster is to Lilac protein rings as Slapstick wrestler dialect is to?
Freaky plankton bells is to Rolling horse divorce as Morphing morphine lips are to?
Sticky razor sparkle is to Emerald muscle spasm as Glaring cat cipher is to?
Peppy unisex mustache is to Pelican fighter syndrome as Clumping night grumble is to?
Scanning paired pearls are to Ruby rubbed roaches as Satanic sailor flotsam  are to?
Glowing asteroid solder is to Ideal shark data as Failed frail doilies are to?
Numb nuts boredom is to Fantastic icy phantoms as Sporadic silk creations is to?
Crooks crow chow is to Loading spackled bonder as Gargled snowdrop blasters are to?
Outdid myself today is to Outside myself again as Outlived myself controls is to?
Venting shuttlecock upset is to Texting badminton kitten as Settler tested motels are to?
Prepare paired vents is to Prefer paid events as Pretender predicts fiction is to
Crunchy mental fender is to Catching mentor menace as Poorly seasoned lettuce is to?
Outside sidewalk inside is to Seaside outcast input as Sideways landslide victory is to?  
Compile fake password is to Compost world poo as Compose village anthem is to?
Crooked crotch blunder is to Loud crowd thunder as Divine vine finder is to?
Chucks’ wooden truck is to Bucks good luck as Sticky ducks tucked is to?  
Overhaul underway overseas is to Overturned downsized pickup as Underground onramp overloaded is to?
I’ll bite there is to Aisle byte their as Isle bight there is to?
Gnat gnawed wrist is to ***** show beans as See through putty is to?
Flapping floppy guppies are to Buzzing zipped dozers as Muddy ****** strippers are to?
Dark diagonal dialogue is to Diabolical dihedral die as Interesting circadian exposition is to?
Experimental flossing expectations are to Waxed dental traps as Permanent impermanence resolution is to?  
Outran ringside intrigue is to Sidetracked onboard boatload as Loaded firearm topside is to?
Phony ****** phone is to Chewy ego honey as Yogi Mama’s dada is to?
Nimble teardrop squiggle is to Humble cage curtains as Loyal truckstop morals are to?
Torching curled elastic is to Sonic neighbor clamor as Golden droplet integers are to?
Duplex pupil scanners are to Nacreous cloud clocks as Shrouded flute shops are to?
Lawn rocket tendrils are to Finding surreal borders as Sheep monarchs children is to?
Gloating ungloved squires are to Busting double doubters as Pushing woeful doctors are to?
Tricking snowbelt firedogs is to Panmixing blackened haywires as Unclothed shameful leaders are to?
Malicious ranch ritual is to Internal puppet bubble as Ornate underworld masquerade is to?
Rustic debonair Eskimos are to Mindless sassy elves as Gorgeous somber acrobats are to?
Learned earthy pimps are to Fearless sneaky Queens as Somber gentle vagrants are to?
Shocking horse wear is to Glossy sled fluid as Damaged chipmunk tongue is to?
Traditional agony chart is to Damp voodoo motel as Backwoods museum quote is to?
Magical cat cabin is to Dapper porpoise humor as Malicious graveyard foam is to?
Therapeutic gazelle cushion is to Stored alibi equipment as Stunning tempo light is to?
Fantastic rascal art is to Wasted prune dust as Jupiter’s ****** law is to?
Little nut razor is to Gigantic hyena shield as Hourglass pillow fever is to?
Coiled rain clouds are to Dizzy tycoon clowns as Lime eating cowards are to?
Possessive epicurean demonstrators are to Faded eavesdropping giants as Determined swanky drunks are to?
Aquatic preview pocket is to Soggy judicial topiary as Finicky hamster fabric is to?
Enlarged fruit cuff is to Obedient mumbling orchestra as Dark tenant tariff is to?
Recycled flash thermometer is to Botched temptation probe as Pet glider grid is to?
Seriously shy idols are to Costly driving perfumes as Ferryboat chapel wine is to?
Winged jalopy details are to Faithful spectral fathers as Sprinkled mint rainbows are to?
Spelling unneeded words is to Sprouting donut ***** as Blaming mellow mallrats are to?
Eroding loom keepsake is to Magnificent accordion canoe as ***** bongo fumes are to?
Souring violet ink is to Juvenile insult park as Periodic ferret envy is to?
Obedient boyfriend aroma is to Sanitized fat lozenges as Dramatic jailer garb is to?
Mysterious patrol group is to Dynamic maiden discharge as Captured hurricane ratio is to?
Lackadaisical bigot bingo is to Oblong care merchant as Expensive swamp shampoo is to?
Petite orifice worship is to Atomic barge pet as Plucked hair exhibit is to?
Elite officer wallop is to Automatic yard rake as Healing ****** glitter is to?
Needless swan costume is to Giant jungle goat as Organic picnic napkin is to?
Leaky jet steam is to Innovative fascist whistle as Enchanting idol evidence is to?
Plastic mascara seduction is to Greasy thermal ointment as Attractive muskrat crease is to?
Lucky camel pills are to White coral Torah as Eternal stage clutter is to?
Roasted oat **** is to Sloppy *** glue as Nylon table debt is to?
Steep nook catastrophe is to Empty dome damage as Pulsing breeze powder is to?
Empty sack power is to Hitched buck stroke as Red claw warning is to?
Ultra brief slogan is to Yummy lab mutant as Pathetic ball armor is to?
Nauseating fish splatter is to Obstinate ****** twitch as Strained ***** coffee is to?
Mezzanine intermission fossil is to Proven **** apathy as Golden duck shroud is to?
Civil tutors torment is to Thor’s posted theory as Yellow melon rain is to?
Immense olive raft is to Exploding kangaroo buffet as Ethereal witness index is to?  
Marching dark speeders are to Searing scribble fighters as **** tripping sinners are to?
Seeping viral angst is to Aged hermit tea as Murky bowl nibble is to?
Condensed blister guzzle is to Pink dorsal pie as Lavish speckled runt is to?
Needy insult poet is to Sedated acorn trader as Dry honey zoo is to?
Veiled trust flicker is to Deranged poser fashion as Flat sizzle tangent is to?
Purified diet spray is to Nebulous wishing target as Thrilling screen dope is to?
Majestic ribbon astronomy is to Bizarre formation sector as Rebel bell gimmick is to?
Sealed dart whisper is to Green silk draft as Cold vacuum varnish is to?
Clumsy raven power is to Insect island circus as Minted mink drapes are to?
Curved map ruler is to Tiny lethal radio as Blue fused metal is to?
Inverted laser invasion is to Damp sheep dump as Puffy gown smoke is to?
Saucy Channel blazer is to Leather goat filament as Starched locomotive hat is to?
Broken jumper leads are to Disgraced mini exorcists as Designer shamrock caulk is to?
Tweaked poachers smokes are to Assorted sulfur pathways as Collected bedlamp trickle is to?
******* bungalow pranks are to Drowsy vapid oafs as Quantized cavern fish are to?
Crawling battle worms are to Vibrating metal pedals as Mentholated matrix wax is to?
Missing meshed rafts are to Liquid rock pipes as Crinkled bean bikinis are to?
Tithing **** joggers are to Perforated buck fronds as Leather zither picks are to?
Fearing truthful cowards is to Rambling preachers mumble as Gazebo ambulance gasoline is to?
Shelving elder’s whiskers is to Poaching goalies pesto as Radical tricycle angst is to?
Mucky gunboat polymer is to Primeval maypole flameout as Cathedral greenhouse intercom is to?
Diaphanous safety prize is to Unleashed saucer lion as Dorky blonde ropewalker is to?
Tapered spring meter is to Silver silo mythology as Misguided judges medallions are to?
Alligator x-ray money is to Cherry unicorn water as Coyote cactus toy is to?
Cowardly dorm scrooge is to Atomized pewter script as Flattened spore smoothies are to?
Trash can yodel is to Flashing wired spam as Exploding chocolate pudding is to?
Sonar blasted bushings are to Threading ruined wheels as Forty shifting boxes are to?
Tiny balloon rebellion is to Softened square cleanser as Iconic soul sucker is to?
Harmony night light is to Spanish nitrogen desire as Squirrel cavern iodine is to?

Lazy winter secret is to Slow airport widget as Silly mustard binder is to?
Elephants raising raisins are to Microscopic lamb planet as Purple hay puppets are to?
Caribou venom vaccine is to Electronic lemonade choir as Demonic princess massage is to?
Beet coated bridge is to Fattened needle point as Mylar monkey spine is to?
Ashy ink dust is to Youngest rabbi planet as Orange cartoon geometry is to?
Cold green chalk is to Cobalt ladder farce as ***** river filters are to?
Sublime sheep master is to Sleeping past rapture as Subliminal bliss jelly is to?
Ocean crust slippers are to Twigged germ radar as Popping sharpie scope is to?
Zen wrapped beep is to Oak foamed code as Wicked flashing sizzle is to?
Dew eyed sleigh is to Say I do as Act as me is to?
Humpback on hammock is to Ham hocking hummer as Hunchback with knapsack is to?
Corned flag jelly is to Draped wing chewers as Tripping swan acid is to?
Futuristic Rembrandt chant is to Almond likened meadows as Asian timber blue is to?
Nap in sack is to Flap on Jack as Ducks dig crack is to?
Flowing flavored lava is to Gleaming optic layers as Enhanced goose gibberish is to?      
Flag tied pajamas are to Saline checker choir as Speed reading quotas is to?
Whipped spam spasms are to Misted shaman scripture as Testing pitched bells is to?
Cave aged eggs are to Crowded tiger cages as ****** wagon pegs are to?
Pigeon towed car is to a Man toad art as Wolf whisker wish is to?
Second hand clothes are to Minute hand gestures as Final hour prayer is to?
Slick wicked shavers are to Tricky watch boxes as Sprouting pine tattoos are to?
Waxed stick ravens are to Match stick foxes as Narrowed thermal towers are to?
Ice cave rice is to Laced face lice as Gourmet pet **** is to?
Diamond lane anniversary is to Space age appropriate as Time travel agency is to?
Lime bark violin is to Lemon twig guitar as Lunar sky waffles are to?
Fake rat **** is to Smart cake batter as Rugged fur tax is to?
Tarred raft fluff is to Flaked rafter dust as Lined liquor flask is to?
Flakes will fall is to Take Bills call as Broken maze compass is to?
First faked voter is to Entombed cartoon honey as Smallest aching smurf is to?
Fancy bared ******* are to Flaky fairy treats as Kings amp filter is to?
Bone window folio is to Whittled fake pillow as Little fitted jackets are to?
Nine nuts brittle is to Ate pear pie as Six packed poppers are to?
Incandescent playground pencil is to Elastic hand worm as Perfumed piano ink is to?
Opal shifting anode is to a Windup lion decoy as Pale paisley trolley is to?
Stacked black boxes are to Old packed tracks as a Throwing micron hammers is to?
Apricot bark furnace is to Merry Orchid Choir as an Ivory rinsing funnel is to?  
Narcotic honey nuts are to Slick flag toffees as Silk fig sugar is to?
Orange coin raisins are to Low note candies as Smelling balled roses is to?
Pocket packed monotints are to Tragic ladder hayracks as Ravishing speed traders are to?
Crayon spider resin is to Coral squirrel forceps as Wolf tumbled loaf is to?  
Silver wheat flies are to Width shifting wheels as Golden blister blankets are to?
Really tiny hippopotamus is to Masked fat podiatrist as a Sad sack psychiatrist is to?
Miniature Mesopotamian monuments are to Apple minted elephants as Raising wise ravens is to?
Lathered nymph nacre is to Sonic ion constellations as Concealed iron craft is to?  
Epic gene toy is to Ladies bubble sled as Jagged data bowl is to?
Bugged dagger bag is to Pop sliced meld as Atom bending moonlight to?  
Rural madam’s deed is to Dyed dew dipper as Eight sprayed dukes are to?
Jiffy grand puffer is to Floating altar myth as Vintage dark mirth is to?
Undercover overnight underwear is to Overpaid undertaker overdosing as Overheard understudy freebasing is to?

Black grape crackle is to Red cactus ruffle as Installing padded pets are to?
Snide snobs sniffing are to Sneaky snails snoring as Snared snipes sneezing are to?
Exploring explosive exits is to Explaining expansive exports as Expecting expert exchange is to?
Shrewd logic ledger is to Puppets dropping cupcakes as Placated topaz octopi are to?
Door roof tools are to Cool wool boots as Wood cooked root is to?
Bright fight light is to Night flight fright as Mites bite site is to?
Floor flood fluid is to Wooden door Druid as Nasty **** broom is to?
Accurate police photography is to Intelligent microbe geography as Condensed aerosol biography is to?
Cowardly cowboy grime is to Corpulent corporate crime as Bosnian dwarf necromancer is to?
Jell-O clearing shaker is to Brillo cleaning shiner as Cheerios bowling shields are to?
Mumbled mindless hokey is to Fumbled found money as Humming kinder bunny is to?
Daisy’s clock setter is to Lilly’s boxer toxin as Poodles rose paddle is to?
Watch Bozo Copernicus is to Hire Clarabelle Newton as Find ***-wee Einstein is to?
Amethyst thistle whistles is to Lapis pistol whip as Diamond bomb scar is to?
Dandelion seahorse rescue is to Crabapple dogwood farm as Faux foxglove lover is to?    
Optical poppy stopper is to Polar halo lens as Day-Glo rainbow sticker is to?
Savanna leopard spotted is to Eskimo lassos kisses as Alligator lemonade standard is to?
Bill of Rights is to Will of left as Thrill of night is to?
Baptize floozies quickly is to Useless outsized nozzles as Puzzled wizard wanders is to?        
Chaps wearing chaps are to Chaps contesting contests as Consoling concealed consoles is to?
Quiet squirming squirrels are to Aeon beauty queens as Queasy greasy luaus is to?
Knew new gnu is to Sense scents cents as We’ll wheal wheel is to?
Blazing zingers ringing are to Wheezing singers flinging as Freezing finger number are to?
Lamb tomb jogger is to Dumb numb **** as Thumbed crumb bug is to?

Blue accordion casket is to Jaded scholar ***** as German mushroom circus is to?
President George Flintstone is to Funny Fred Washington as Abraham Jetson’s dog is to?
Google Desmond Tutu is to Kalamazoo Zoo Park as Zodiac actors Guru is to?
Swamp cradled whisperer is to Cherished drawbridge cello as Bludgeoned prankster outlaws are to?
Dukes pink mittens are to Smeared nest carava
preservationman Oct 2016
She is not a Witch
It’s not even her figure in how she moves in twitch
Madam Spectacular is simply dazzling when she dances
She has control of the audience with every move
It’s her talent that she wants to prove
Spotlights that change color during the show being captivation in the audience soothe
It’s like a destination being a arrive
I am saying that but that is no jive
Footsteps with rhythm precision
A theme “Don’t draw your own conclusion”
Today a moment being a struggle, but tomorrow just let be
Madam Spectacular who dances in enjoying life
Encourages her audience by giving advice
Music that is upbeat
It has an effect in bring the audience to their feet
But it is oh what a treat
Madam Spectacular dancing with beats going on
A show that can last really long
At the end, Madam Spectacular takes her bow
The curtain then comes down
Madam Spectacular who performs really well
But word gets around, and it will be tell.
Janna  Feb 2018
Madam President
Janna Feb 2018
Sitting at the desk where so many white men have sat.
Sitting as the rats pick up their bats, ready to bash.
Throwing trash about to clash all because she didn't win a sash that said she was feminine enough to be liked
But masculine enough to be respected.
She is better than expected.
she connected, Corrected and directed this country in their time of need. And I need her! We Need her!
I want to be Her.
But if I cannot be her at least I would like to see her.
Lips red from where she ****** the competition dry
Arm strong from where she pulled herself out of the grave she was born in.
And when she pulls herself to that podium? That is the new morning.
And while the rats are mourning
The age of American women will be dawning!
She will be Drawn in a glorious light in the temples of women's minds.
And she will not just be kind
But ruthless/\
be soft
And still impenetrable like steel
Not be pretty.
But absolutely gorgeous
And we will call her Diana because a
Ruthless, toothless Amazonian Wonder woman she is.
The president?
Yeah you can call her Madam because no longer is she the biblical white man Adam
And Madam president?
Will be no longer a phantom.
Because just like Christine she only appears real to me.
Madam has a nice ring to I could sing to it
Praise to it.
Bathe to it
And while a phantom she will no longer be
She is an angle of music to me.
And when my daydreams are no longer daydreams
But every woman's ******* become a reality.
I just hope everyone understands she didn't get here for free.
She wasn't dining with the queen at high tea.
She was using the breaststroke to cross the black sea
All to become the barbie you and me need to see.
The strong barbie
The I don't take no **** barbie
No longer coy
No longer submissive
I’ll be a ***** if I have to Barbie.
Unlike the African queen Cleopatra
She will not be bit.
That will not be the end of it.
Madam President
I could get used to it.
Can be read as a part two to the literal Worst.
The lion had just lost his dear wife,
Madam lioness a couple of years ago,
She was in the prime of her life,
When she succumbed to deathly udder cancer,
Mr. Lion grieved with all energy of the bereaved beast
To make it worse, he was also terminally ill
Of the vicious lung cancer, boring his windpipes,
That when he respired sweet music came out,
Like classical xylophones of eyeless Mehrun Yurin,

His sons were away commanding respective territories
Each son a territory in the order of traditional monarchy,
No one was to cook for the sick lion, don’t mention washing,
Hence the sons hired the squirrel alias madam Caroline,
She cooked as she did all other chores in the palace,
She was good in a concocting a matchless soup
From white mushrooms and cured goat’s meet,

As Caroline cooked she also sampled by tasting for her perfection
This little by little tasting made her to increase the strength,
Her skin became smooth, her buttocks swell
Her tail became shorter and steady, but very clean,
Her skin very oily and comely, exuding no evil smell,
Her walking style purged to majestic fashion
Even the type of songs she sang
Were not peasant spirituals,
Mr. Hyena wondered and wondered;
Is the squirrel pregnant?

Only to discover she was not,
But she has a new job;
Of cooking for the sick king lion,
Hyena also heard from the public domain
That she often cooks, goat meat and mushrooms,
But the ram tail twice in week; Tuesday and Sunday,
Jealousy and bigotry, malice and prejudice ganged up at once
And gripped the hyena simultaneously,
And swore to himself that come anything;
Spells of sunshine or blizzards of snow,
He must and must; root out the squirrel
From the palace kitchen,

That bright morning he went to the palace,
Singing a Christian song in praise of Lazarus,
Who resurrected from the dead,
He entered the palace still singing,
He commanded every to stand, put off the laurels,
For he wants to pray for the sick,
He made long and noisy circumlocutions of a prayer,
With regular stamping of feet and amen,
Commanding the devil of cancer to leave,
The lungs of the king, the mighty lion.


He said final amen and all sat down
Two sons of the king, the young lions,
Were all in somber moods, their father was sick,

From the kitchen, the squirrel surfaced,
With goats meat on a metallic platter,
He served the sick lion first,
Then each of them present,
On the first taste of food,
Hyena lost control of nerves
His tail jumped out of the white trouser
That he was wearing that day,
He ate voraciously with a crazy appetite,
No such delicious food had ever crossed his way.

He cleared his food first as expected,
Then he kept mum like a stooge,
Only wagging his long tail
His long tongue hanging out
Flagging in avarice like leaves of banana,
When all others stopped eating,
Hyena began in form of a question,
To which the lion’s family listened
Indeed with kingly caution;
Am asking you the king,
Why is Madam Caroline the squirrel,
Eating your food everyday,
And you are dying of a treatable disease,
To which she has the medicine,
Why is she betraying you?
To such a simple death?

All the lions plus the sick one
Jumped to the squirrel with all horror,
For the squirrel to bring the cure
Or the be killed first be the lion dies,
She pleaded for a minute to bring the drug,
Hyena in full gear of happiness
As his friend chews misfortune,

She blamed her small body size to be the  barrier
To bringing the medicine for king lion,
But nonetheless medicine was available,
Lions roared tell us! Where is the medicine?
In a soft voice the squirrel said;
The only cure for this disease of the king,
Is a fresh liver of a male hyena!

The hyena was frozen with surprise,
Like any other foolish bigot,
He begged to leave as his time was over,
No answer came to his request,
Other than abysmal darkness
Of violent death gulfing his body,
King lion drunk Hyena’s blood
In addition to the liver
On the squirrel’s instructions,
The lion became well
And began walking strong,
Out of this joy
King lion  promoted the squirrel
To be a minister of health
In the kings palace.
Ulysses was left in the cloister, pondering on the means whereby
with Minerva’s help he might be able to **** the suitors. Presently he
said to Telemachus, “Telemachus, we must get the armour together and
take it down inside. Make some excuse when the suitors ask you why you
have removed it. Say that you have taken it to be out of the way of
the smoke, inasmuch as it is no longer what it was when Ulysses went
away, but has become soiled and begrimed with soot. Add to this more
particularly that you are afraid Jove may set them on to quarrel
over their wine, and that they may do each other some harm which may
disgrace both banquet and wooing, for the sight of arms sometimes
tempts people to use them.”
  Telemachus approved of what his father had said, so he called
nurse Euryclea and said, “Nurse, shut the women up in their room,
while I take the armour that my father left behind him down into the
store room. No one looks after it now my father is gone, and it has
got all smirched with soot during my own boyhood. I want to take it
down where the smoke cannot reach it.”
  “I wish, child,” answered Euryclea, “that you would take the
management of the house into your own hands altogether, and look after
all the property yourself. But who is to go with you and light you
to the store room? The maids would have so, but you would not let
them.
  “The stranger,” said Telemachus, “shall show me a light; when people
eat my bread they must earn it, no matter where they come from.”
  Euryclea did as she was told, and bolted the women inside their
room. Then Ulysses and his son made all haste to take the helmets,
shields, and spears inside; and Minerva went before them with a gold
lamp in her hand that shed a soft and brilliant radiance, whereon
Telemachus said, “Father, my eyes behold a great marvel: the walls,
with the rafters, crossbeams, and the supports on which they rest
are all aglow as with a flaming fire. Surely there is some god here
who has come down from heaven.”
  “Hush,” answered Ulysses, “hold your peace and ask no questions, for
this is the manner of the gods. Get you to your bed, and leave me here
to talk with your mother and the maids. Your mother in her grief
will ask me all sorts of questions.”
  On this Telemachus went by torch-light to the other side of the
inner court, to the room in which he always slept. There he lay in his
bed till morning, while Ulysses was left in the cloister pondering
on the means whereby with Minerva’s help he might be able to ****
the suitors.
  Then Penelope came down from her room looking like Venus or Diana,
and they set her a seat inlaid with scrolls of silver and ivory near
the fire in her accustomed place. It had been made by Icmalius and had
a footstool all in one piece with the seat itself; and it was
covered with a thick fleece: on this she now sat, and the maids came
from the women’s room to join her. They set about removing the
tables at which the wicked suitors had been dining, and took away
the bread that was left, with the cups from which they had drunk. They
emptied the embers out of the braziers, and heaped much wood upon them
to give both light and heat; but Melantho began to rail at Ulysses a
second time and said, “Stranger, do you mean to plague us by hanging
about the house all night and spying upon the women? Be off, you
wretch, outside, and eat your supper there, or you shall be driven out
with a firebrand.”
  Ulysses scowled at her and answered, “My good woman, why should
you be so angry with me? Is it because I am not clean, and my
clothes are all in rags, and because I am obliged to go begging
about after the manner of tramps and beggars generall? I too was a
rich man once, and had a fine house of my own; in those days I gave to
many a ***** such as I now am, no matter who he might be nor what he
wanted. I had any number of servants, and all the other things which
people have who live well and are accounted wealthy, but it pleased
Jove to take all away from me; therefore, woman, beware lest you too
come to lose that pride and place in which you now wanton above your
fellows; have a care lest you get out of favour with your mistress,
and lest Ulysses should come home, for there is still a chance that he
may do so. Moreover, though he be dead as you think he is, yet by
Apollo’s will he has left a son behind him, Telemachus, who will
note anything done amiss by the maids in the house, for he is now no
longer in his boyhood.”
  Penelope heard what he was saying and scolded the maid, “Impudent
baggage, said she, “I see how abominably you are behaving, and you
shall smart for it. You knew perfectly well, for I told you myself,
that I was going to see the stranger and ask him about my husband, for
whose sake I am in such continual sorrow.”
  Then she said to her head waiting woman Eurynome, “Bring a seat with
a fleece upon it, for the stranger to sit upon while he tells his
story, and listens to what I have to say. I wish to ask him some
questions.”
  Eurynome brought the seat at once and set a fleece upon it, and as
soon as Ulysses had sat down Penelope began by saying, “Stranger, I
shall first ask you who and whence are you? Tell me of your town and
parents.”
  “Madam;” answered Ulysses, “who on the face of the whole earth can
dare to chide with you? Your fame reaches the firmament of heaven
itself; you are like some blameless king, who upholds righteousness,
as the monarch over a great and valiant nation: the earth yields its
wheat and barley, the trees are loaded with fruit, the ewes bring
forth lambs, and the sea abounds with fish by reason of his virtues,
and his people do good deeds under him. Nevertheless, as I sit here in
your house, ask me some other question and do not seek to know my race
and family, or you will recall memories that will yet more increase my
sorrow. I am full of heaviness, but I ought not to sit weeping and
wailing in another person’s house, nor is it well to be thus
grieving continually. I shall have one of the servants or even
yourself complaining of me, and saying that my eyes swim with tears
because I am heavy with wine.”
  Then Penelope answered, “Stranger, heaven robbed me of all beauty,
whether of face or figure, when the Argives set sail for Troy and my
dear husband with them. If he were to return and look after my affairs
I should be both more respected and should show a better presence to
the world. As it is, I am oppressed with care, and with the
afflictions which heaven has seen fit to heap upon me. The chiefs from
all our islands—Dulichium, Same, and Zacynthus, as also from Ithaca
itself, are wooing me against my will and are wasting my estate. I can
therefore show no attention to strangers, nor suppliants, nor to
people who say that they are skilled artisans, but am all the time
brokenhearted about Ulysses. They want me to marry again at once,
and I have to invent stratagems in order to deceive them. In the first
place heaven put it in my mind to set up a great tambour-frame in my
room, and to begin working upon an enormous piece of fine
needlework. Then I said to them, ‘Sweethearts, Ulysses is indeed dead,
still, do not press me to marry again immediately; wait—for I would
not have my skill in needlework perish unrecorded—till I have
finished making a pall for the hero Laertes, to be ready against the
time when death shall take him. He is very rich, and the women of
the place will talk if he is laid out without a pall.’ This was what I
said, and they assented; whereon I used to keep working at my great
web all day long, but at night I would unpick the stitches again by
torch light. I fooled them in this way for three years without their
finding it out, but as time wore on and I was now in my fourth year,
in the waning of moons, and many days had been accomplished, those
good-for-nothing hussies my maids betrayed me to the suitors, who
broke in upon me and caught me; they were very angry with me, so I was
forced to finish my work whether I would or no. And now I do not see
how I can find any further shift for getting out of this marriage.
My parents are putting great pressure upon me, and my son chafes at
the ravages the suitors are making upon his estate, for he is now
old enough to understand all about it and is perfectly able to look
after his own affairs, for heaven has blessed him with an excellent
disposition. Still, notwithstanding all this, tell me who you are
and where you come from—for you must have had father and mother of
some sort; you cannot be the son of an oak or of a rock.”
  Then Ulysses answered, “madam, wife of Ulysses, since you persist in
asking me about my family, I will answer, no matter what it costs
me: people must expect to be pained when they have been exiles as long
as I have, and suffered as much among as many peoples. Nevertheless,
as regards your question I will tell you all you ask. There is a
fair and fruitful island in mid-ocean called Crete; it is thickly
peopled and there are nine cities in it: the people speak many
different languages which overlap one another, for there are Achaeans,
brave Eteocretans, Dorians of three-fold race, and noble Pelasgi.
There is a great town there, Cnossus, where Minos reigned who every
nine years had a conference with Jove himself. Minos was father to
Deucalion, whose son I am, for Deucalion had two sons Idomeneus and
myself. Idomeneus sailed for Troy, and I, who am the younger, am
called Aethon; my brother, however, was at once the older and the more
valiant of the two; hence it was in Crete that I saw Ulysses and
showed him hospitality, for the winds took him there as he was on
his way to Troy, carrying him out of his course from cape Malea and
leaving him in Amnisus off the cave of Ilithuia, where the harbours
are difficult to enter and he could hardly find shelter from the winds
that were then xaging. As soon as he got there he went into the town
and asked for Idomeneus, claiming to be his old and valued friend, but
Idomeneus had already set sail for Troy some ten or twelve days
earlier, so I took him to my own house and showed him every kind of
hospitality, for I had abundance of everything. Moreover, I fed the
men who were with him with barley meal from the public store, and
got subscriptions of wine and oxen for them to sacrifice to their
heart’s content. They stayed with me twelve days, for there was a gale
blowing from the North so strong that one could hardly keep one’s feet
on land. I suppose some unfriendly god had raised it for them, but
on the thirteenth day the wind dropped, and they got away.”
  Many a plausible tale did Ulysses further tell her, and Penelope
wept as she listened, for her heart was melted. As the snow wastes
upon the mountain tops when the winds from South East and West have
breathed upon it and thawed it till the rivers run bank full with
water, even so did her cheeks overflow with tears for the husband
who was all the time sitting by her side. Ulysses felt for her and was
for her, but he kept his eyes as hard as or iron without letting
them so much as quiver, so cunningly did he restrain his tears.
Then, when she had relieved herself by weeping, she turned to him
again and said: “Now, stranger, I shall put you to the test and see
whether or no you really did entertain my husband and his men, as
you say you did. Tell me, then, how he was dressed, what kind of a man
he was to look at, and so also with his companions.”
  “Madam,” answered Ulysses, “it is such a long time ago that I can
hardly say. Twenty years are come and gone since he left my home,
and went elsewhither; but I will tell you as well as I can
recollect. Ulysses wore a mantle of purple wool, double lined, and
it was fastened by a gold brooch with two catches for the pin. On
the face of this there was a device that showed a dog holding a
spotted fawn between his fore paws, and watching it as it lay
panting upon the ground. Every one marvelled at the way in which these
things had been done in gold, the dog looking at the fawn, and
strangling it, while the fawn was struggling convulsively to escape.
As for the shirt that he wore next his skin, it was so soft that it
fitted him like the skin of an onion, and glistened in the sunlight to
the admiration of all the women who beheld it. Furthermore I say,
and lay my saying to your heart, that I do not know whether Ulysses
wore these clothes when he left home, or whether one of his companions
had given them to him while he was on his voyage; or possibly some one
at whose house he was staying made him a present of them, for he was a
man of many friends and had few equals among the Achaeans. I myself
gave him a sword of bronze and a beautiful purple mantle, double
lined, with a shirt that went down to his feet, and I sent him on
board his ship with every mark of honour. He had a servant with him, a
little older than himself, and I can tell you what he was like; his
shoulders were hunched, he was dark, and he had thick curly hair.
His name was Eurybates, and Ulysses treated him with greater
familiarity than he did any of the others, as being the most
like-minded with himself.”
  Penelope was moved still more deeply as she heard the indisputable
proofs that Ulysses laid before her; and when she had again found
relief in tears she said to him, “Stranger, I was already disposed
to pity you, but henceforth you shall be honoured and made welcome
in my house. It was I who gave Ulysses the clothes you speak of. I
took them out of the store room and folded them up myself, and I
gave him also the gold brooch to wear as an ornament. Alas! I shall
never welcome him home again. It was by an ill fate that he ever set
out for that detested city whose very name I cannot bring myself
even to mention.”
  Then Ulysses answered, “Madam, wife of Ulysses, do not disfigure
yourself further by grieving thus bitterly for your loss, though I can
hardly blame you for doing so. A woman who has loved her husband and
borne him children, would naturally be grieved at losing him, even
though he were a worse man than Ulysses, who they say was like a
god. Still, cease your tears and listen to what I can tell I will hide
nothing from you, and can say with perfect truth that I have lately
heard of Ulysses as being alive and on his way home; he is among the
Thesprotians, and is bringing back much valuable treasure that he
has begged from one and another of them; but his ship and all his crew
were lost as they were leaving the Thrinacian island, for Jove and the
sun-god were angry with him because his men had slaughtered the
sun-god’s cattle, and they were all drowned to a man. But Ulysses
stuck to the keel of the ship and was drifted on to the land of the
Phaecians, who are near of kin to the immortals, and who treated him
as though he had been a god, giving him many presents, and wishing
to escort him home safe and sound. In fact Ulysses would have been
here long ago, had he not thought better to go from land to land
gathering wealth; for there is no man living who is so wily as he
is; there is no one can compare with him. Pheidon king of the
Thesprotians told me all this, and he swore to me—making
drink-offerings in his house as he did so—that the ship was by the
water side and the crew found who would take Ulysses to his own
country. He sent me off first, for there happened to be a
Thesprotian ship sailing for the wheat-growing island of Dulichium,
but he showed me all treasure Ulysses had got together, and he had
enough lying in the house of king Pheidon to keep his family for ten
generations; but the king said Ulysses had gone to Dodona that he
might learn Jove’s mind from the high oak tree, and know whether after
so long an absence he should return to Ithaca openly or in secret.
So you may know he is safe and will be here shortly; he is close at
hand and cannot remain away from home much longer; nevertheless I will
confirm my words with an oath, and call Jove who is the first and
mightiest of all gods to witness, as also that hearth of Ulysses to
which I have now come, that all I have spoken shall surely come to
pass. Ulysses will return in this self same year; with the end of this
moon and the beginning of the next he will b

— The End —