Sunday, April 11, 2010
Regress #11: My Wedding Night
I recall slow dancing to a particularly tender ballad as I looked my ethereal Vicki Nero DelVecchio nee Lambrusco deep in the eyes until it felt like I could peer directly into her unsullied, fawn-like soul.
I moved in close to my porcelain doll. Very close. It was so romantic! Like sex scene #3 in Requiem for a Dream.
And then I whispered to my gentle little loveflower what had been aching in my mind for the better part of the previous three months--that the time me and her half-sister Lara hooked up in Gulfport the previous spring after the Olivia Newton-John concert meant absolutely nothing to me (although I'll not soon forget Lara's mystical leg ink):
I also told my beguiling nymphet that I had noticed (and appreciated) how hard she had worked to squeeze into her mother's size 14 dress for the wedding. Surely she would understand, and I would soon be back on the highway to wedded bliss.
I never saw my Vicki again, but last I heard she's working second shift at the I-40 (Ballaster Parkway) Whataburger just north of Flagstaff.
If you're ever up there, please tell her hey from Denny Dance. And, if possible, ask her if she knows Lara's new cell number.
Bea would have wanted it that way.