part 8

Subject: Penance

To: BoPeep

From: MackAttack

Date: 09/26  3:14a.m. PDT

Dear Aimless,

You know what?

As I read your letter, I was just about ready to let it slide. I was thinking even though you shouldn’t have let him in in the first place, and that you should have had him tossed by the cops when he made a mess . even though your atavistic serf mentality surfaced in washing that animal’s clothes and cooking him dinner. I was still on the verge of letting it go.

Letting it go. “It” was me in Bozo’s being Bozo in my checked jacket, waiting and having to tell several little children, “No. I do not work here and do not have any tokens.” It was me waiting, burning, reliving the past because the present was forcing the past on me.

….. “and the lambs are once again unshorn and grazing in the fields. The calves are fatted and the streams are teeming with moronic trout .”

I am calmer now, you are at such a distance.

I was on the brink of letting it go until you told me that you fucked him

I’m sure your mother factored in that genetic decision. She wanted a piece of the action. “Why should Aimee get all the fun? Huh? Why is that right?” Question Authority. Hear her braying in the barns of memory. “So you’re Mack, huh? Mack the Knife? Ha haww! You know what a mack is, don’t you? A pimp. Maybe I’ll call you Pimp. Aw, c’mon, loosen up. Drop your drawers. Whip it out.” How different a letter to Penthouse seems when it is breathing the alcoholic fumes of its Welfare check on you.

You acted like nothing was happening back then. You act like nothing has happened now. There were things I wouldn’t allow myself to dare imagine about your family. I asked you questions alone but you never knew any answers. Again, I hear it. You don’t know if your father was your older sister’s father. You make me wonder if idealistic innocence that will trust anyone has a survival instinct.

Truthfully, I thought you were wild and imaginative in bed thanks to her. Maybe it is and maybe I should have been Pimp. Your real artistry was erotic art, performance erotic art.

“Why should Aimee have all the fun? I can be artistic. Aren’t I skinny enough? Pale enough? Aren’t I white girl enough for these people?”

You didn’t want the competition with the woman in whom your grew from conception to live birth, but there it was, anyway. She forgot not to compete with you. She forgot to make an exception for you.

She was an argument for repealing the 19th Amendment and making all of you women start from scratch.

“Aww, shut up and just fuck me, Mack. Fuck all my daughters. Fuck my son up the ass. Why don’t we all just fuck together? Hawwww!”

There was no page for me at the clown joint. No message on my machine or email in my mailbox. You must think I’m pretty stupid. Maybe you are right.



Subject: You never did understand

To: MackAttack

from: BoPeep

Date: 9/27  9:11p.m. PDT


Let’s get some things straight. First of all, I did try to reach you at Bozo’s, but, I didn’t email you. I don’t have your phone number. I’ve asked for it, remember? I have the email to prove that.

But, I was in the middle of a situation. If YOU had been in the middle of something you’d beg me to forgive you and then get mad if I didn’t (remember Shelia the topless girl behind the Cinemax movie-plex?). Seems that you can always be relied upon to “ask” for understanding, but never give it.

I couldn’t just leave a crying man on my doorstep. I don’t think you could have either, if it had been a woman, I mean. And, the fact that I slept with him is what seemed to bother you most. That really wasn’t an option of free will. I was afraid not to. Maybe my fears get the best of me, but I just was paralized with uncertainty. I didn’t want to. You don’t understand.

But, I’ll remind you, it’s not like you haven’t had your share of sleeping your way around the universe. A regular Rocketteer! Anyway, Davey was damn good.he can go on licking like a Timex goes on ticking. He never has any problem getting it up, or keeping it up like some people I know.

You attack my Mom, but I can never tell if this is a “for real” story, or just for effect. You always ‘said’ she did stuff like that, but she swore that you were deep into fantasy, and given your drama king thing, I don’t know WHO to believe.

Let’s see, you don’t understand, you get pissed that I slept with someone (besides you, I suppose), you say that Mom wanted into your pants, and then you tell me that I was imaginative in bed! Fuck you, Mack! You always said that I was terribly unimaginative in my art. No matter what you’d say that it was cliched or it was boring, or that it lacked vision. But, I was creative in bed? Why would you bring that into it?

You ARE the supreme asshole, aren’t you? You freak out at me mentioning Davey and me in the sack, then go on to talk about sex between us?

No, Mack, I don’t think you are stupid. I thought you’d understand. But, that’s par. You always said you would, but never did, maybe you never will.

I guess you don’t really care what else has happened?



Subject: There is no justice

To: BoPeep

From: MackAttack

Date: 9/28  3:15a.m. PDT


You couldn’t leave a crying con-job on your doorstep but you could leave me in the laughing clown’s reek. Oh, and he was damn good, too. He was burn in sulfuric hell damn good. I can’t even get mad righteously? Nothing bad happens to me? No. I am the inflicter. I am paying for past sins, real and imagined, and Sister Aimee – sweet Jay-zoo! – is my judge. The penance for sucking one topless girl’s nipple (aside from strep throat at the time) is your right to go the full-haunch with some violent rapist criminal just out of the joint.

Okay. All right. Of course, you have your life and freedom to do whatever you like. Punish me some more for forgetting I once had a claim.

I never said your art was mediocre, but I did say you didn’t take it seriously enough. But at least you aren’t like this fine writer babe I know at work. Yvonne is so too good for everything, it makes me sick. I hated that stuffy precious correct attitude back in college, and out here in the real world, it’s even worse. Liberals. Ugh. I used to be one.

There’s also Paint-Job Freida (always perfect make-up, like the 3 hour job in the mornings). She’s too good to go out with any guy she works with. We aren’t “fine dudes” (her term). None of us are fine enough or dude enough. I saw Tony from backstock get crushed when he asked her out. First time in his life he learned he wasn’t a fine dude.

Diana Morgan-Hughes was in the store yesterday. You remember her from high school? The elite bitch everyone hated. They seem to be all over my mind lately. (But she really does look good and dresses well, I have to give her that). We exchanged a few words. I guess she got pleasure out of seeing my station in life. I don’t know.

Of course I want to know what else is happening in your life — just as long as I don’t have to stand trial in your court.


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