A/Z

by Tomoko Davidson

 

 

A

Hi there!

 

B

Mrs Charity Mailer was a divorcée. Mrs Charity Mailer was divorced from her husband of four years, Mr Guido P Mailer.

Mrs Charity Mailer had a brother, Pierce Himmler.

Pierce: a flautist: a student: a Trekkie: mildly homo.

Mrs Charity Mailer had an uncle, Uncle Congressman Father Finegan.

The Congressman Father: obese: currently visiting.

Mrs Charity Mailer had a best friend, Eugenia Gauloises.

Eugenia and Charity: buddy-wuddy: palsy-walsy.

Eugenia Gauloises and Mrs Charity Mailer conversed in Mrs Charity Mailer's vehicle in a parking lot by the intersection of Luna St and Puma St.

Eugenia Gauloises and Mrs Charity Mailer did not know, were not aware, that as they conversed in Mrs Charity Mailer's vehicle in a parking lot by the intersection of Luna St and Puma St that The Fates had decreed that in twenty-one hours and eleven point two minutes forward in linear Newtonian space-time to come Mrs. Charity Mailer's brother Pierce Himmler together with his homo pal Jean-Hercule and Pokey the Toyota van would, twelve feet to the left, together encounter -- The Penultimate!

 

C

Eugenia Gauloises and Mrs Charity Mailer conversed in Mrs Charity Mailer's vehicle in a parking lot near the intersection of Luna St and Puma St.

Mrs Charity Mailer's vehicle was a 1984 Ford Pinto Station Wagon. Within its upholstered confines, Eugenia Gauloises stroked the silky black Leggs pantyhose upon her left thigh.

-- This frigging pantyhose has fathered an itching upon the epidermis of my thigh, said Eugenia.

-- Perhaps you have but purchased the wrong size, Eugenia, said Charity.

-- Ow, said Eugenia.

-- Let us get some Fast Food, Eugenia, for I am sort of hungry, Eugenia, said Charity.

-- OK, said Eugenia.

Mrs Charity Mailer rose up from the 1984 Ford Pinto Station Wagon and stood upon the paving.

Mrs Charity Mailer: twenty-eight years of age: one hundred twenty-two pounds in weight: five foot eight and three-quarters inches tall (five foot eleven and one-half inches tall, in very tall and pointy heels): gray/blue eyes: corn/blond hair: dyed silver/blond at the moment: no visible deformities: of Western European descent: carrying a white imitation leather purse: shod in white imitation leather boots: the cuffs of her faded Calvin Klein pseudo-proletarian blue jeans tucked into the white imitation leather boots: a patch at the base of the right buttock of the jeans: it is an ovoid patch: a patch with mauve letters sewn with mauve thread onto a white oval background with an inverted horn shape at its base: the whole in mimicry of speech balloons which denote speech in comic strips comic magazines fotonovels popular cartoons: No Way, José, it says: she wears a Wild West shirt with long white sleeves also: two pockets upon them: one placed upon each breast: each pocket buttoned with a silver button that bears the image of infinitesimal bucking broncos: a navy blue neckerchief too: a black cotton T-shirt beneath the white Wild West shirt: the words ELVIS LIVES sewn onto it with sequins: diamond sequins: they are very glossy: she has perfect teeth. Hot stuff, Mrs Charity Mailer. Oh yeah.

Eugenia Gauloises rose up from the 1984 Ford Pinto Station Wagon and stood upon the paving also.

Eugenia Gauloises: twenty-six years of age: one hundred and one-half pounds: five foot six and five-eighths inches tall (five foot nine inches in tall and pointy heels): gray/green eyes: ink-black hair: shiny: unstreaked with grey: very black: a smoker: ‘Now' menthol cigarettes: of Eastern European descent: no hat: wearing a conservative gray pinstripe skirt, a conservative gray pinstripe vest, a conservative gray pinstripe suit jacket bearing a single white silk handkerchief bearing a single black pseudofrench initial (“E.”) in the conservative gray right breast pocket: over these garments a London Fog raincoat, indeed a London Fog trenchcoat, the arms hanging dangling swaying flapping from the pseudo-epaulette-bearing shoulders: her tie is thin: her tie is black: her shirt is white white white: her cufflinks of inauthentic gold bear inauthentic royal insignia: the Lion, the Mace, Crossed Sabres, the Escutcheon: her hair is very long: her chest is smooth and flat: her legs are booted: her hands are gloved: her skin is white white white: her pantyhose black black black: she tugs at the silky black Leggs pantyhose about her thigh: men parked about in cars gaze at this thigh.

-- Shitty shit shit, says Eugenia.

-- You ought to have not cast to one side your former stocking and garters, Eugenia, for they gave you no complaint, Eugenia, yes, they were neat-o, they were El Kinkyville, they were verily as the eaglet that soareth up unto far high sunlit peaks. Do you want Original or Spicy or Crispy, Eugenia? I will give you a dollop of vodka when we get home, Eugenia.

-- I do not desire Original or Spicy or Crispy. I do not desire a chicken of whatever sort. To the flesh of chickens I say: no. But I shall have a Diet Pepsi-Cola, eh? A Diet Pepsi-Cola, okey dokey?

-- Mais oui.

Mrs Charity Mailer and Eugenia Gauloises entered the Col Sanders Southern Fried Chicken restaurant.

Mrs Charity Mailer and Eugenia Gauloises ordered a Two-Piece Spicy with Mashed Potatoes and a Diet Pepsi-Cola To Go and a Diet Pepsi To Go from smiling negresses at the counter.

The smiling negresses gave them that for which they asked and took their coin.

Mrs Charity Mailer drove Eugenia Gauloises to Mrs Charity Mailer's $377,000 suburban home.

Mrs Charity Mailer sang:

Da da da da duh duh duh duh

Da da da da duh duh duh duh

BATMAN!

Da da da da duh duh duh duh

BATMAN!

Da da da da duh duh duh duh

BATMAN!

Da da da da duh duh duh duh

BATMAN!

Da da da da duh duh duh duh

BATMAN!

BATMAN!

BATMAN!

Duh duh duh duh

BATMAN!

BATMAN!

BATMAN!

Da da duh duh da da duh duh da da duh duh DA!

BAT!

MAN!

Mrs Charity Mailer: Eugenia Gauloises: buddy-wuddy: palsy-walsy.

 

D

Mrs Charity Mailer's uncle, Congressman Father Finegan, lay upon the fashionable vibrating Danish gray/mauve upholstered modern naugahyde recliner in Charity his niece's living room.

It vibrated.

He with it.

He gazed at the television screen through his toes; looming toes; toes nude, unclipped, silent; prehensile, wriggling toes.

Corky June Smoke, the sullen-buttocked daughter of Mrs Charity Mailer's, ahem, business associates, the Smokes, sprawled upon the bellybutton of her belly before the Congressman Father before the Sears large-screen projection color TV.

Her sullen buttocks had seen but fourteen summers. Her sullen buttocks were very white.

The Congressman Father's buttocks had beheld sixty-one summers. His buttocks were gray and pitted.

The Sears large-screen projection color TV projected “Tarzan Meets The Gorgo Men".

They observed it.

 

E

-- I shall munch these munchies you have got here, Charity, yes, if I may, Charity.

-- Have some Dixie Belle Vodka too then, Eugenia.

-- Merci I shall.

-- Shall I microwave Orville Redenbacher's Vitamin Enriched Low Sodium Sour Cream And Chives Popping Corn for you, eh? Eh, Eugenia?

-- Yum.

-- I am happy to cook. It is no bother. I have got to cook for the spawn of my ova Paolo and Thomasina as well, it is that time of day.

Paolo and Thomasina were the spawn of the ova of Mrs Charity Mailer.

Paolo was spawned by the conjunction of Mrs Charity Mailer and Mr Guido P Mailer.

Thomasina was spawned by the conjunction of Mrs Charity Mailer and Milo Kolko, a laughing existential postman.

Mrs Charity Mailer did not inform Mr Guido P Mailer of this spontaneous happenstance. No sir. Uh-uh. Now Paolo was nine and Thomasina six and Paolo was tan, Thomasina most blond.

-- Shall the Old Poop sup with us?, said Eugenia.

This in reference to the visiting Congressman Father.

Mrs Charity Mailer placed Orville Redenbacher's Vitamin Enriched Low Sodium Sour Cream And Chives Popping Corn in her Hotpoint Microwave. She closed the door of her Hotpoint Microwave. She pressed not inappropriate buttons upon her Hotpoint Microwave.

-- For I would prefer to sup privately with you, Charity. Privately, you understand me? You understand me, Charity?

-- Yes he shall join us.

Microwaves radically refornulated the complex molecular structure of Orville Redenbacher's Vitamin Enriched Low Sodium Sour Cream And Chives Popping Corn.

-- I bet that Pierce too shall come over and join us. He shall mooch among us. Though he is the flesh of your flesh and the bone of your bone he shall mooch among us, Charity, he takes too great an advantage, he presses upon us, Charity, he presses.

-- Pop! went the Popping Corn.

-- Pop pop pop!

-- Pop!

-- Pop pop!

-- Poppop pop pop pop pop!

-- Pop pop poppop pop poppop!

-- Pop!

-- Pop pop!

-- Poppop!

-- Pop pop pop pop!

-- Pop poppop!

-- Pop pop pop poppop pop pop pop!

-- Pop!

-- Pop pop!

-- Pop pop pop pop!

-- Poppoppop!

-- Pop!

-- Pop pop poppop!

-- Pop!

-- Pop pop!

-- Pop!

-- Pop poppop pop pop pop!

-- Poppop!

-- Pop!

-- Pop!

 

F

Paolo entered.

-- Hi Paolo.

-- Hi kid.

Paolo eyed them without expression.

It was 5 PM.

 

G

A fudge-hued negro walked before the $377,000 suburban home of Mrs Charity Mailer. He held in his fudge-hued hand a large rectangular chromium box the approximate size of a large dwarf's coffin to his fudge-hued ear. Music of youthful mulattoes moaned from the box. He said whoa, yao, gots to git it, uhh, nnghh, yayuh, and wo.

 

H

The Smokes, Emile and Linda, were enjoying the wonders of our nation's capitol.

They gazed at the Houses of Congress.

They gazed at the Capitol Building.

They gazed at the Lincoln Memorial.

They gazed at the Washington Monument.

Ooh.

Aah.

They did not take Corky June.

No no.

Corky June was being punished.

Fiat iustitia, pereat mundus, said Emile and Linda.

(‘Let justice be done, though the heavens fall' —— Ed.)

But Emile and Linda Smoke did not want Corky June to be left alone.

No no, said Smoke pére to Smoke mére, and she to he, no no. Corky June must not be left alone...

Let our ha ha business associate Mrs Charity Mailer house Corky for the nonce!

This was done.

 

I

A Mastercard International commercial appeared onto the Sears large-screen projection color TV.

‘So worldly!'

‘So welcome!'

The Congressman Father mused.

“Is it perhaps the case that” puff

“Paolo” puff

“seeks to” puff

“emulate the stance, persona, and demeanor of” puff

“Mr Spock, a fictional” puff

“being from a fictional” puff

“society which” puff

“discourages all expression of” puff

“emotion, preferring” puff

“to that the rigors of logical” puff

“methodology as” puff

“the preeminent model for” puff

‘‘societal role-interaction?'' mused the Congressman Father as he sat in the living room, puffing and sucking absorbedly upon his dank Dutch Masters cheroot.

“This coldness! This aloofness!” cried he.

-- This frigging pantyhose makes the epidermis upon my thigh itch, muttered Corky June.

The Mastercard International commercial ended.

The Are You Hungry For Burger King Now? commercial began.

 

J

Paolo crossed the floor of the living room.

It was necessary to cross the floor of the living room.

Paolo wished to program his Apple computer.

Paolo's Apple computer lay silent and uncomprehending in his room.

His room was on the other side of the living room.

Thus Paolo must needs cross the floor of the living room to reach it.

Who says A must say B.

-- Paolo! Paolo old man! How's it going, Paolo? How, kid? Eh? Eh, Paolo? How is it going, Paolo? Eh?, said the Congressman Father to Paolo.

-- Classische ist das Gesunde, Romantisch das Kranke, sneered Paolo, departing.

“Tarzan Meets The Gorgo Men” resumed.

 

K

Supper.

Mrs Charity Mailer compressed her palms. Her lips parted. Her gaze turned skywards.

-- God is great. God is good. Let us thank Him. For our food.

-- What is the precise significance of this curious pre-scientific ritual? inquired Paolo of his mama's heartfelt peroration to the Most High.

-- Shut the fuck up, Paolo, she gaily replied.

Congressman Father Finegan heatedly explained to Paolo the precise significance of the curious pre-scientific ritual.

Corky June Smoke snuck looks beneath the table at a Photoshop-modified porno web download graphics of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

-- Amen.

 

L

They ate.

Pork.

 

M

The Approach of the Humid Cockroach of Night. (A metaphor.)

 

N

-- Good night Charity.

-- Good night Eugenia.

-- Din Din was ooh it was so terrif.

-- Pshaw.

The cab.

-- Beep beep.

Away, Eugenia Gauloises, away; away into the dark armpit of the teeming urban megalopolis -- away! She sighed. Ennui profound beaned her very frame alas with torpor and sapped her vim. The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, she mused; he who binds to himself a joy doth the winged life destroy, she conceded; yet he who kisses the joy as it flies, lives in Eternity's sun-rise, she realized; though after many a summer dies the swan, she presumed.

-- A deux!, cried Eugenia aloud.

-- Yeah, noted the cabbie.

-- To the Our Lady Of Perpetual Mercy Motel, fellow! Chop chop, si'l vous plait!

 

O

The household slept.

But Congressman Father Finegan did not sleep.

Did Congressman Father Finegan think of Congress? He did not.

Did Congressman Father Finegan think of NASA? The Budget Deficit? The Palestinian Question? The Papal Estates? Nope.

Congressman Father Finegan sat in a scarlet Asian smoking jacket of floor-length length on the fashionable vibrating Danish gray/mauve upholstered modern naugahyde recliner.

Hairy palms, his own, rested upon the fullness of his underbelly.

He gazed at the preprogrammed programs playing upon the Sears large-screen projection color TV preprogrammed by the glistening Sony that glistened atop it.

A Beulah And The Bolsheviks rock video; a Huey And The Holocausts rock video; a Proust And The Pedos rock video; an Annie And The Angst rock video; a Biff And The Barf Bags rock video; an Eight-Eyed Incest rock video; a Gang Of Crazed Flies rock video; a Man You're So Hollow rock video; a Flesh For Lumumba rock video; an Anguished Dickless Intellectuals rock video; a New Aryan Order rock video; a Million Masturbating Mexicans rock video; a Venusian Cha-Cha Apocalypse rock video; a Poisoned Little Schoolgirls rock video; a Martian Sex Fiends rock video; a Several Swelling Testicles rock video; a Subsonic Jüngen rock video; a Dolls Eat Dolls Eat Dolls rock video; a Seven Severed Foreskins rock video; a Sophisticated Polar Babies rock video; a Kill Poor People Before They Replicate rock video; an Quadriplegic Samoans rock video; an Even Deader Kennedys rock video; a Nude Flowerpot Girls rock video; a Kiss Me Enola Gay rock video; etc.

 

P

Thomasina snuck from her little bed. She looked upon the Congressman Father looking upon the Kiss Me Enola Gay rock video. She tried to touch her nose with her tongue. She returned to her little bed.

 

Q

The humid tongue of Night.

The room of Corky June.

Corky June stood clad in naught but her brazen fuschia K-Mart panties, like eleven Nazis dancing a fandango, and sucked smilingly upon a grape flavor lollypop Kojak-like and pumped iron pump pump pump as she stared, her nostrils in flared state, lima beans of sweat a-drip upon the smoking plain of her snowflake brow, as she stared and gazed, upon Nightline with Sam Donaldson substituting for the vacationing Ted Koppel.

How shall America deal with the threat of International Terrorism?, cried Sam aloud.

-- Deutschland, Deutschland, Über Alles, sang Corky throatily.

Pump pump pump.

In the living room below her, sitting in a scarlet Asian smoking jacket of floor-length length on the fashionable vibrating Danish gray/mauve upholstered modern naugahyde recliner, Congressman Father Finegan had drawn little faces on the sides of his fists with a black Flair from Scrantoms.

Little eyes stared out from the knuckle sides of the hands and the bobbing cheroot-stained thumbs served as conversing lower lips. The hands performed “Doctor Faustus”.

-- See, see, where Christ's blood streams in the firmament, said Congressman Father Finegan' s right hand.

-- Bene dissere est finis logices, said Congressman Father Finegan' s left hand.

What a crazy guy!

-- über alles in der Welt, crooned Corky June.

Far far away, far away indeed, very far away, in Rome, the Eternal City, the City Of Lights, no wait that's Paris, in Rome, the Eternal City, yeah, Anastasia-Genevieve Pitz, Pierce Himmler's instructress-in-flute, labored maniacally into the night upon her minimalist opera-yet-to-be, “Godzilla Conquers The Universe,” yes, they had laughed at her at Juilliard, the high and mighty professors had all laughed, Pierce too had guffawed, Pierce too had chortled, well she would show them ALL cackle cackle the FOOLS cackle.

Corky June: pump pump pump.

 

R

Pierce Himmler licked the stomach of Eugenia Gauloises in Room 7 of the Our Lady Of Perpetual Mercy Motel.

-- O God God O God, she said.

He placed his nose in her bellybutton morosely.

-- You don't say it like you mean it, said Pierce.

-- Sure I mean it Pierce, said Eugenia.

He blinked. His lengthy lashes tickled Eugenia's belly.

-- You don't say it like you mean it. If you meant it you wouldn't say it. You would moan it or whimper it smilingly.

-- I whimper it smilingly a lot Pierce.

-- Not like you mean it.

Orgasm Score Card: Pierce 2, Eugenia 0.

 

S

At that very moment in Vienna, Nick Poot, Mafia Assassin, twirled and pulled two . 357 Smith & Wesson revolvers from the shoulder holsters beneath his snazzy purple tux and jutted the barrels at a Polaroid photo of Emile and Linda Smoke that had been scotch-taped to his hotel boudoir mirror by persons unknown.

DOOM DOOM, he said.

The steely eyes of Nick Poot, Mafia Assassin, stared into the steely eyes of Nick Poot, Mafia Assassin, reflected in the mirror above the photo of Emile and Linda Smoke.

He narrowed his eyes. He flared his nostrils.

He was Nick. Nick Poot -- Mafia Assassin!

Ah! And was it no more than mere fortuitous happenstance that at that very self-same moment, a package for Anastasia-Genevieve Pitz had arrived under guard at Rome International Airport containing fragments of antennae from a species of crustacean unknown to Western Man?

And could it be by naught but the haphazard play of physical contingency at the quantum level that in the cold Magnitogorsk dawn in the former Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, Bogomir Yebemvashbogovich, the Serbo-Croatian James Bond, slid his curved golden dagger into the liver of Blind Boy Bellow, American negro bodybuilder and imagist poet just as that very same American negro bodybuilder and imagist poet murmured the last words of his libretto to the minimalist opera-yet-to-be, “Godzilla Conquers The Universe”, namely: “Sex poets in the subliminal ampitheatre! The Soft Crabs gesture! O intricate bureaucracies of photoelectric orgasm! O Kung Fu Mama!”

And might it be pure random chance that at that very aforesaid exact split-second in space-time Tatiana Timofeyevna Ptitsova, the brightest prima of the celebrated Bolshoi, whose glistering career was cruelly concluded by the experimental Brazilian acid splashed across her body by the love-maddened American dance critic Melville Cage, whose severed hand was found (after his arrest and disappearance) in a jewel box discarded beside the torpid Nairobi streets, and who (Tatiana Timofeyevna, that is), now the black-velvet-masked Napoleon of the Minsk-Leningrad-Uzbekistan cocaine underground, moved her rook from King's Pawn Three to Queen's Pawn Four against the Belgian Diplomat Caré, when she knew very well, very very well indeed, that the rook moves orthogonally and not diagonally ?

And (I dare say) is it even thinkable to further hypothesize that it be in actuality no more than a tinkling twang of the ball bearing of senseless synchronicity on the whirling wheel of fluid Fortuna that Doctor Bobbi Jo Schumakker, the world renowned blind Freudian scholar, had at precisely that self-same nanomicrosecond gotten Pia, the autistic lesbian daughter of Karl-Anton Shkokolbvzshki, the missing Czech theoretical physicist, to whisper the fragment of an equation that, when found by National Security Agency consultant Seamus Flaherty to coincide exactly with the scrawled formula discovered concealed within the Vatican codices by Sister Luke Of The Advent aka Katya Sokolovskaya aka Donna Dierdre Epstein (CIA triple agent), caused Flaherty' s immediate superior P. Schuyler Court to blow away his gay brains in the men' s room at Bergdorf Goodman' s in New York as Maoist cinematographer Auguste-Dominique Algol looked coldly on through his lover's Foster Grants?

And how about Paolo? What was on that Apple computer anyway? Huh?

Was all this simply coincidence?

Accident?

Chance?

Luck?

 

T

Yup.

 

U

Pierce and Eugenia lay naked as Toyotas across the motel bed.

Pierce shifted. He placed Eugenia's left big toe in his mouth and began to hum The Battle Hymn Of The Republic. Eugenia groaned with poorly simulated ecstasy, and thought of Mrs John F Kennedy's black veil wafting in the November 1963 breeze as she (Mrs John F Kennedy) observed the funeral cortege of President John F Kennedy a-rollin' and a-moseyin' down Pennsylvania Avenue, and Eugenia thought too of Yul Brynner's eyes in ‘The Magnificent Seven”.

She desired a taco.

Pierce (for his part) dreamt of the cruel yet worldly gaze of Corky June Smoke as she hefted iron pump pump pump. He mouthed Eugenia's left big toe all the more passionately.

Yes! He desired Corky! -- But he feared her taut rebuff.

Melodious mulattoes cooed from a Sony in the night.

 

V

Corky June Smoke sat in the dark before the Sears large-screen projection color TV. Congressman Father Finegan was gone. Congressman Father Finegan was not there. Congressman Father Finegan was palpably el splitsville. To where had the Congressman Father abscounded? Beats me.

Corky June Smoke sat on the floor and observed a PBS documentary on mating rituals of the Syrian ocelot. She inhaled Paraguayan hashish and laughed throatily. She supported the Paraguayan hashish in a corncob pipe in hand A, whilst in hand B she supported an extremely red apple. From the extremely red apple she had already bitten bites.

Her line of vision was transected by the approaching Paolo. Paolo too sat before the set also. He attached wires from his Apple computer to the set and rippled the keys of the Apple in subtle pianissimos.

The PBS documentary departed. An abstraction replaced it, yes, a tiny white square in a green green maze. Black dots leapt and bounded along the corners, corridors, entrances, exits, of the green green maze.

-- Two player?, inquired Paolo.

-- Yeah, said Corky.

-- So let it be written, acknowledged Paolo. So let it be done.

A second white square appeared in the green green maze.

-- New Game? said Corky.

-- “Gaza Bloodbath 3: The Adventure Continues”.

Corky nodded. Corky flexed. Corky took a joystick. She bit for a last time the extremely red apple. Sixth and seventh white slices slid down her muscular throat. She tossed the core on the lemon shag carpeting.

It began.

-- KaPow! KaPow!, said Corky June. Corky June rammed her thumb onto and off her Fire Button.

-- Yee-haa, she cackled.

-- Zap, noted Paolo, Zap. Zap. Zap.

-- KaPow! KaPOW! KA-POWWW! kraaAAANM! SSPPLLAAAATT! AAAaaaAAArrrRRRGGGI-IHHHHH! UUNNHHGGH!

-- Zap. Zap... ZAP.

Yes, yes! Paolo began to emote!

-- Die, cringing non-Aryan mutoids, DIE!, shrieked Paolo.

 

W

Pierce went to pick up Jean-Hercule, his homo pal, in Pokey the Toyota Van.

-- Hi Jean-Hercule.

-- Hi Pierce. Hi Pokey.

Jean-Hercule and Pierce stopped Pokey the Toyota Van at a red light at the corner of Luna St and Puma St near the Col Sanders Southern Fried Chicken parking lot to which I alluded earlier.

-- Hey you want some Original or Spicy or Crispy, Jean-Hercule?, said Pierce.

A gray 1975 Oldsmobile Delta 88 went through the red light at the corner of Dana St and Puma St at ninety-four miles per hour straight into Pokey the Toyota Van. Pokey went boom.

Bye Jean-Hercule.

Bye Pierce.

Bye Pokey.

 

X

Ars longa vita brevis.

 

Y

Morning.

Mrs Charity Mailer and Eugenia Gauloises drove to their aerobics class at the Tristan Tzara Memorial Library in Mrs Charity Mailer's 1984 Ford Pinto Station Wagon.

They entered.

They disrobed.

They robed.

They approached the aerobics room.

They walked in unison.

Eugenia Gauloises wore an immaculate zebra Danskin and electric pink mid-thigh knit-wool legwarmers and a matching zebra headband with a Pokemon button pinned securely to it.

Mrs Charity Mailer wore floppy snow-like socks, a Bulova, one earring, polka dot Reeboks, and a cherry red Danskin vertically bisected by three white stripes.

Mrs Charity Mailer and Eugenia Gauloises and eleven other matrons bent like Argentinian jackknives, leapt like pricked gazelles, swivelled like Dostoyevskian epileptics, tripped like the light fantastic, curled like the toe of traditional Slavic slippers, jogged like aged memories, goosestepped like Commie ghosts before Lenin's Mausoleum, twisted like strands of DNA, and scissored like robotic Babylonian umbrellas weeping for their youth.

Suddenly the Magnificent Seven, featuring Yul Brynner but also including Charles Bronson Robert Vaughn and James Coburn, entered with flaming Uzis and laughing splattered them all into total scarlet nullity.

 

Z

No they didn't.

I lied.

Ha ha ha.

The end.