As if she had read his mind -- and she very well could have -- she nearly sucked up her entire face into a testicle-shriveling lemon-pucker kissy-mouth. But, suddenly she planted a Grinch-like smile on her pan as if she didn’t have a care in the world, then she leaned forward with a sort of serpentine slink across the table -- B.J. swore her neck was about two feet long at this point and growing like a Slinky -- and she hissed, “You, you, you trailer trash.”
He thought about that for a second, then he looked her right in the eyes -- he saw an inhuman narrowing and sudden expansion of the pupils in the form of a triangle -- and he said real low, “Wow, I sure wish I had a trailer,” and he did too. His one-room hotel room was a real dump and he had hookers and pimps outside on the corner all night long making gaawwwd-awful noises. A few times he threw coffee mugs at them from his third story window but that got to be fairly expensive, and, uh, hell he didn’t have a job at the time.
Excerpt from The Eternal Optimist by Kevin O'Kendley
It was Sister Philomena that gave me some of the inside dope on childbirth. For instance (you’ll never believe this one), she told me that Uterus isn’t a planet in our solar system Uranus is. Uranus? I howled at that and so did the nuns. I can’t even write Uranus with a straight face:
The nuns were very friendly. Sister Philomena had some dice in a little change purse dangling from her rosary beads, so we played craps in a back chapel. The ladies took four weeks’ pay from me. Sister gave me two shots of Jim Beam even though I’m a Jack Daniels man. The ladies were very attractive in their uniforms I must admit, and I wondered if any of the expecting fathers ever hit on the nuns even though the women could well have been devout Catholics. And, of course, the mothers were having babies in the next room, screaming, yelling, and cussing like longshoremen “as the tortured vessels of a man’s animalistic lust.”
excerpt from: The Birth of Her Caitness by Kevin O'Kendley
A carbuncle is a roiled mass of skin or a beautiful gem...
Kevin O'Kendley is the owner of Carbuncle Moon, and the author of all original material -- cartoons, blogs, shorts, essays, articles -- on the website (there has been a very limited editorial input in some of my work). Quoted sources are noted. I am responsible for all posts.
Kevin O'Kendley: P.O. Box 172, Winterport, Maine, 04496, and 200 P Street, A-32, Sacramento, California, 95814, firstname.lastname@example.org.
Technical help is provided by an evolving computer genius, my son, Conor O'Kendley. A good kid with a great heart who can be reached at P.O. Box 172, Winterport, Maine, 04496.
Photography provided by a visual artist, my daughter, Caitlin O'Kendley, a young woman with a beautiful soul.
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