Thursday, December 17, 2015

Last Sunday I Slept With a Fr~nch Wh0re

Val hesitates to reveal her latest secret. It’s a tale that’s a bit off-color. Or at least off-odor. Don’t think Val is just shining you on. This one can definitely pass the smell test.

I slept with a Fr~nch Wh0re last Sunday.

Well…truthfully, I did not exactly SLEEP with a Fr~nch Wh0re. There wasn’t much sleep involved. And technically, my bedmate was not from France. Perhaps the wh0re part is exaggerated as well. No money actually changed hands. I’m pretty sure a proper wh0re would not give away the milk for free. She would at least expect the recipient of her professional charms to rent the cow in order to get the milk of human passion.

So I kind of figuratively, though not literally, slept with a Fr~nch Wh0re last Sunday. But that doesn’t make for a catchy title. Kind of clunky.

Before you go jumping to any conclusions, let the record show that Hick was the Fr~nch Wh0re. He’s the one who taught me that expression, so it is fitting that he is now the designated Fr~nch Wh0re himself.

Last Sunday evening, Hick had his Christmas dinner at work. I knew he was going, so I did not bother to prepare him food, nor hang around waiting to send him off. I heard him return, and then go to bed early. So I had no warning. No inkling of the fate that awaited me when I climbed the stairs from my dark basement lair.

I first noticed halfway up. Stair number seven. The faint smell of cologne. With each successive step, it grew stronger. Until, by the time I reached the top, that smell was like the Arnold Schwarzenegger of smells. I daresay it could have ripped a NYC phone book in half. Bent a piece of rebar with its bare hands. Hoisted an elephant onto its shoulder.

Let the record show that this miasma of Hick’s cologne was more potent than the parking valet BO that sullied Elaine’s hair and caused Jerry to give his car to a bum.

Each step towards the bedroom caused my throat to constrict a little more. My nose clogged. Which one would think would cut down on the perception of the stench. But it did not. I could hardly draw breath, laying in that bed beside Hick, that stinker!

Hick has always gone a little overboard with the cologne. I rue the day he received a large economy size bottle of Chaps as a Christmas gift. It must have been a re-gift, because I don’t remember my mom asking what fragrance Hick preferred, or my sister the ex-mayor’s wife ever using this method of tormenting me.

I woke up with a headache Monday morning. The scent survived the night. I could smell it wash off of my hair (I hoped) in the shower. I settled down in the La-Z-Boy in an effort to recoup a few of the 40 winks I was lacking from my night sleeping with the Fr~nch Wh0re. The acrid odor had permeated the afghan that I use to warm myself during my chair nap.

It still stinks.

I’m thinking of driving it to town and draping it over the bridge. For the people who live below. Unfortunately, I am afraid one would show up on my doorstep like Rebecca DeMornay with her muffin stumps…to castigate me for assuming homeless people would be grateful to have smelly afghans donated to them.

15 comments:

  1. I just learned that I sleep with a street walker every night.

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    1. Please explain!!

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    2. You know...on Joe's post from Wednesday, when he dressed too casually for the GOVERNMENT MEN, according to Mrs. C.

      He listed more of her peccadilloes, one of which was walking in the street, BESIDE the sidewalk. You were the first comment, and I was the last, so you may not have seen it. I told Joe that I never knew Mrs. C was a streetwalker.

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  2. Val, send me your address and I mail you a big bag of sunflower seeds. Putting an Orange Junco in the blender for you too. Not even the homeless squirrels will take your smelly afghan.

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    1. Great! Because Val never misses out on a free breakfast. And a day without an Orange Junco is like a day without...well...liquified fowl as a morning beverage.

      Then the homeless squirrels and I are even, because if I accidentally run over one, I am NOT paying for its surgery and rehab.

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  3. Well, did that cologne achieve the desired effect, at least from Hick's point of view? Maybe it's best not to answer.

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    1. It did not. Quite the opposite. At least on the home front. I am fairly certain it did not work its magic at the employee dinner, either.

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  4. How much did Hick charge for that delightful, aromatic evening?

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    1. Not a red cent! Can you believe it? I must have been a charity case. Hick's not that great at being a Fr~nch Wh0re.

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  5. Val--I am doing Cathy Hall's challenge--thanking my writer friends--so I want to take this opportunity to say how grateful I am for your posts. Even though we've only met once in person (and I STILL think $75 is too much for the tour I got from you and The Pony), I enjoy your posts every day. There is no other blogger I know who is as prolific as you--double the writing, double the fun. Not many people can make me snort (as I laugh) or snicker, but you do.

    So, thanks.

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    1. You are quite welcome, Madam.

      As for the $75 tour...I still think it's not enough! We kept you out of jail when it all went down at the gas station chicken store. You were driven like royalty past our TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED sign. Even though you were within a half mile of the septic tank where the headless body was found, we were not tempted to drive you there. AND the biggest reason for an imminent increase in that tour fee is: I NEED TO KEEP MY FR~NCH WH0RE IN COLOGNE!

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  6. One wonders why Hick felt the need to douse himself with cologne. What goes on at those company Christmas dinners anyway? Hmmmm?

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    1. Hick has done that dousing thing since I've known him. He's like a peacock, but his plumage is olfactory, not visual.

      Those company Christmas dinners are dull affairs, though the feast is tasty. The first one I went to was six days after giving birth to Genius. And I had to take him along. Not the best party experience. I have no problem declining the invitation.

      Perhaps Hick was channeling his inner skunk. All he does lately is gripe about wanting to retire early because he is annoyed by his fellow workers.

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  7. Umm, now that I am catching up on your blog posts, I KNOW why he doused himself. Think! Were you or the boy taking a shower before he left? Think! Was any TP missing off the roll? If not, he was under fooey and over hooey.

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    1. I was happily unaware of Hick's alleged wiping habits when I shared my Fr~nch Wh0re experience with the world.

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