By May Swenson
The popcorn is greasy, and I forgot to bring a Kleenex.
A pill that’s a bomb inside the stomach of a man inside
The Embassy blows up. Eructations of flame, luxurious
cauliflowers giganticize into motion. The entire 29-ft.
screen is orange, is crackling flesh and brick bursting,
blackening, smithereened. I unwrap a Dentyne and, while
jouncing my teeth in rubber tongue-smarting clove, try
with the 2-inch-wide paper to blot butter off my fingers.
A bubble-bath, room-sized, in which 14 girls, delectable
and sexless, twist-topped Creamy Freezes (their blond,
red, brown, pinkish, lavendar or silver wiglets all
screwed that high, and varnished), scrub-tickle a lone
male, whose chest has just the right amount and distribu-
tion of curly hair. He’s nervously pretending to defend
his modesty. His crotch, below the waterline, is also
below the frame—but unsubmerged all 28 slick foamy boobs.
Their makeup fails to let the girls look naked. Caterpil-
lar lashes, black and thick, lush lips glossed pink like
the gum I pop and chew, contact lenses on the eyes that are
mostly blue, they’re nose-perfect replicas of each other.
I’ve got most of the grease off and onto this little square
of paper. I’m folding it now, making creases with my nails.
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I spent Monday with my family, which was lovely though we did nothing as Memorial Day-relevant as the day before when we visited a fort. While both sons did online research, we watched most of the Maryland men's victory in the NCAA lacrosse championship -- that's both the Terrapin men and women as national champions! Adam's Surface is beyond the help of the Microsoft Store so he is getting a new laptop.
Then we went to see Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales (from the back row so I could stand), a lot of which I loved, a couple of things I didn't like, one thing I really Did Not Like but I think it's possible that it will be reversed in a future sequel, and one thing quite irritated me but I suspect it was more a result of Hollywood studio issues than screenwriting or directorial planning. I'd rank it well above 4 but well behind 1. More on this later.
We had dinner at my parents' house so they could see Daniel before his flight Tuesday morning, then we came home, played Forbidden Desert, and watched Moonraker since we'd been in the mood for a Roger Moore James Bond film since he died last week and the boys did not remember it though I think we watched it with them several years ago (they remembered The Spy Who Loved Me because of the submarine). It's as cheesy as ever!
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