Though our girls were working with Las Cabronas, the Girl’s Gang in the evenings, They were still teaching in the day time at the Pequot School for Dastardly Bastards. One day Francisco, for no seeming reason, asked whom they considered attractive and in unison they retorted, “Rock Hudson.”
“No one current or alive?” inquired Francisco.
“Well, no,” said Auntie Carol, “unless you count Johnny Depp, who is quite comely.”.
“No, my dear,” interjected Lady Lynda, “It’s got to be Joaquin Phoenix.”
“That cross-eyed wonder? Heaven’s no, Lynda dear.”
“He is not cross-eyed and we shall have fisticuffs if you persist in this manner. He’s got beautiful cerlean blue eyes and they are decidedly Not crossed.”
“Alright! Alright!” said Auntie Carol, “If you feel that strongly about it. Is he the one who looks like Peter Lorre?”
“No, dear you are confused, and it won’t be the first time,” said Lady Lynda archly.
Then they both went on to say that there was no one dead or alive who could compare to Rock Hudson. And furthermore he didn’t use his looks to take advantage of love sick girls. Of this fact they were sure. He was a true gentleman and didn’t trifle with women’s tender hearts.
Tyrone shook his head in disbelief and replied that he was gay and died of AIDS.
“Oh, my heavens, no!” said Auntie Carol. “How can that be. I saw him in Pajama Game with Doris Day and he practically sizzled with manly tension. He could scarcely contain his desire to bed her. One cannot fake that!”
“He was the Penultimate Male!” intoned Lady Lynda.
“Yeah, that’s what all the other dudes thought, too,” said Francisco.
Auntie Carol stated that she felt faint and would have to go lie down in the nurse’s station and implored Lady Lynda to run the class alone.
“Of course, dear. Go lie down and rest. You’re no spring chicken any more after all.” Auntie Carol then hobbled out of the room.
Turning toward the class Lady Lynda inquired where they were in Catcher in the Rye and Francisco reminded her that it was where Holden observed his old professor picking his nose and wearing a ratty old robe. She asked what he got out of that and was told that Francisco considered most adults, hypocrites, present company excepted.
“Monkey see: monkey do. They tell us not to do something then turn around and do it themselves. We, the youth, are left to straighten up thier mess. Lookit the War in Iraq and dumping nuclear waste into the ocean. Pardon me for saying this, Miz Lynda, but you don’t shit where you eat!”
“Don’t use vulgarisms, Francissco,” she intoned. “Only ignorant people talk that.”
“Then the authors, Henry Miller, Allen Ginsberg, and D.H. Lawrence must be in that category and what of Shakespeare alluding to ‘cunt’ when speaking of the character, Beatrice.”
“Why aren’t you reading the poets like Yeats, Frost, and Sandburg. Allen Ginsberg is a truly revolting human being as was D.H Lawrence inciting people to be foul mouthed, and wander about in the nude. Shakespeare usually did not swear so once or twice is quite plausible and passable. Read Jane Austen, E.M. Forrester and for poets, Emily Dickinson. Concern yourself not with prurient content masquerading as fine literature!”
“Miz Lynda you lifted my mind out of the slums but I reserve the right to make my own judgments on literature and life. I am grateful to you although I cannot agree,” said Francisco.
“And you’re going into law school, right? I can see where you’d be successful at it,” she said.
“I am and it was you who taught me to think and to reason,Miz Lynda.”
“You tuned me up, too, Miz Lynda,” intoned Tyrone. “Now, I’ll never be in jail like my daddy or drink myself into a stupor like mom. It’s a big world and I want a piece of it! So reap what you have sewn, Miz Lynda.”
“I don’t know whether I’m happy or remoseful,” she replied.
“Life is ‘curiously strange’, isn’t it?” said Francisco.
“Oh, Francisco. You quoted Lewis Carroll from Alice Through the Looking Glass! I’m Thrilled.” said Lady Lynda.
Wait until next Friday. We’re planning a Farewell Party for you and Auntie Carol. You gave us so much and this is our way of saying, ‘back at ya.” said Francisco.
The morning finally arrived through the slow, agonizing, curious Thursday when their minds drifted from their lessons to the anticipation, and joy of Friday. On that day the room was festooned with black and pink balloons and crepe paper streamers. Champagne bottles were carefully hidden in the lower cabinets. On the board Francisco wrote out A.E. Henley’s famous poem, ‘Invictus’.
“Dark is the night that falls upon me/ Black as the pit from pole to pole/ I thank whatever gods may be/ For my inconquerable soul.”
Lady Lynda wore a hot pink business suit with silver strappy shoes while Auntie Carol wore an Ann Taylor Chinese red sheath with black patent leather stilletoes. Scents of Tea Rose and Shalimar emanated from them wafting through the room. A huge three tiered Black forest cake with yellow and red roses sat on a silver serving platter. Lady Lynda’s face blushed pink with pleasure, and Auntie Carol breathed in the bubbles from her champagne and laughed as they popped in her aquiuline nose.
Then a fire Alarm sounded toward the end of the party and a handsome “Rock Hudson” resembling fireman entered and said, “I heard there was something burning in here. Something really hot. And now I see it was you two lovely ladies.”
“Oh, my heavens,” intoned Lady Lynda while Auntie Carol pored some smelling salts into her linen engraved hankerchief.
Gradually he removed his jacket and tight sequined tee shirt revealing a six-pack abdomen, huge pectorals and well muscled arms. And to the tune of “It’s Raining Men”, he danced close up to both of them and when the song ended he tore away his black rubber pants revealing a shiny black speddo and “EVERYTHING” else. Nothing was left to the imagination. This was a truly robust man.
Lady Lynda and Auntie Carol peered shyly and sideways at his private area, and wondered if all men were so well endowed. The thought of sinning in lustful thought without action occurred to them yet they could not take their eyes from that spot and Lady Lynda actually shyly copped a feel as she put a fifty into his speedo.
The boys’ raucous laughter rose up to Our Heavenly Father above.
Lady Lynda and Auntie Carol continued to enjoy their “Rock Hudson” and resolved to make up for this curious moral lapse into lewd thoughts by letting street people sleep on their couches, feeding Big Macs to the starving, homelss people and hosting a number of Girl Scout Meetings. Good deeds cancel out naughty thoughts and deeds in as much as a minus can be turned into a plus in algebra. Anybody knows this.
CAROL ANN, Writer of Poems of Thunder (Noire & whimsy) @ Amazon, Barnes&Noble