I found him furiously pecking at my laptop this morning, looking exactly like a young Phillip Roth, and muttering aloud.
“That’ll get her,” he was saying, “she's as good as in the sack.”
“What on earth?” The scene shocked me.
“Later,” he said, “I’m onto something having a high degree of heat or a high temperature.”
“You may be onto something hot,” I said, “but you’re doing it on my computer. Remember when you left stuff on my hard drive and my wife saw it? And your Galactic Universal Translator is malfunctioning again.”
“My GUT is leading me to success,” he said, “and Mrs. Big Dope will love this.”
“This mega-seller written just for men.”
“Oh really? And what mega-seller might that be?”
He looked up. “How To Get Any Woman Into Bed.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Got the title off the internet. Want to hear some of it?”
“C.W.,” I said, “you have had some crazy ideas before but this takes the cake.” Then I stopped and thought. “Hear some of it?” I thought again. “Maybe just a line or two.”
He scrolled back a ways. “Here’s Number One,” he said. “Mark the way to the bedroom very carefully with directional signs.”
“Women need to be led,” he said, "carefully led."
I was stunned. “And where did you get that idea?”
He reached into his pile of research material and pulled out a worn Bible. “Here,” he said, holding it up. “You got a problem with that?”
“Go on,” I said.
“Number Two,” he said in senatorial voice, “post a set of rules for use of the bed in a conspicuous place near the bed itself.”
“What on earth?”
“Women need the guidance of men,” he said. “Don’t you read the newspaper accounts of your legislators?”
“Are you crazy?”
“Number Three,” he said, ignoring me, “have the bed decorated in bright colors.”
This time I couldn’t speak. I sank into chair, dumbfounded.
“Bright colors attract the female of the species,” he said, flourishing a book on zoology.
He turned back to the computer. “Number Four,” he said, “place large, over-sized toys on the bed.” He turned and smiled. “Women are attracted to big th…”
“Stop it,” I said. “What can you possibly be trying to do?”
“Get women into bed,” he said.
“Into bed? And why, exactly?”
“So they will get out of the way and leave us alone.”
“Why would we want them out of the way?”
“So we could do things,” he said, exasperated.
He thought for a moment. “The sort of things you and I do after Mrs. Big Dope goes to bed.”
“I think,” I said, “speaking of her, maybe you should preview your idea to her.” I thought about it for a second or two and nodded. “I think a woman’s perspective might be helpful, and I think I hear her in the kitchen.”
“Great idea,” he said. “She’ll give me a few more pointers, too.” He grabbed the laptop and a few books and sailed off.
What can I add? In a few moments time, he came running back into the room followed by books sailing toward him. He reached safety, placed the computer on a table, and turned to me. “I’ve got a new idea,” he said.
|The relative weakness of women is a long-standing|
tenet of your culture for some reason or other. - C.W.
“She didn’t like the old one?”
“It’s not that,” he said quickly. “It just doesn’t take her long to review my work and offer editorial comments.”
“And a new title,” he said.
“What might that be?”
He looked to make sure we were alone. “Fifty Ways of Longer Life for Men.”
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