Act 4, Scene 8: “I Slept with Sarah Silverman”
S goes to New York City for the week to frolic with friends, leaving TRL alone with C and E. Or, perhaps more frighteningly, C and E alone with TRL.
“No baths, no making beds, no crying, no fighting,” TRL announces to C and E after S has left. “Pizza, Steak-Ums and French fries, boys, every night for dinner.” TRL rubs his hands together. “OK, let’s party.”
S needs a vacation. She was between jobs, had been running at 110 percent working her job, looking for a new job, and keeping the household purring along. And now, before she starts her new job, she needs a release. And for TRL, S being away meant a reversion back to Lord of the Flies. Mommy had left, and he was in charge.
Well, one thing led to another, and he ended up in bed with Sarah Silverman.
Who, to TRL’s annoyance, S says looks like a monkey.
“Well, maybe, but a hot, nasty-talking, cute, horny, Jewish girl monkey,” says TRL. But TRL knew he would not be able to get S to understand Sarah’s draw on men. Basically, she was a guy. Crude-talking, annoying, focused on poo and piss and sex, but in the body of a hot chick. Which made her perfect.
TRL gets the boys in their pajamas – the same pajamas they have been wearing all week. S insists on giving them new pajamas every two days, if not daily. That just meant more laundry, knows TRL. But he was in charge now.
They also had the same socks. It wasn’t like a little smell was going to rot their feet. And they didn’t mind.
And having their beds unmade just made it ready for the boys to climb right back in and resume sleep. Which was how TRL felt about his own bed: an unmade bed was an invitation. An acknowledgement that life – the work and drudgery – was merely a pause in climbing back under the sheets, sighing and relaxing. Plus not making the bed meant less work.
The boys were asleep, some of the dishes were clean, and TRL is ready. He grabs his iPod, jumps into bed, pulls the covers over his body, wiggles his neck and head around the pillow to get comfortable, and props the iPod onto another pillow sitting on his chest. He hits “play” and there is Sarah Silverman, the horny little Jewish monkey, dancing around on his chest, introducing her big gay friends, her tasty cute sister, the dumb mustached boyfriend cop. Sarah in all her tasty-thigh, swaying breasts, ultra cute relaxed-look boy clothes, vagina and poo words spewing from her adorable simian mouth. Life is good.
“No baths, no making beds, no crying, no fighting,” TRL announces to C and E after S has left. “Pizza, Steak-Ums and French fries, boys, every night for dinner.” TRL rubs his hands together. “OK, let’s party.”
S needs a vacation. She was between jobs, had been running at 110 percent working her job, looking for a new job, and keeping the household purring along. And now, before she starts her new job, she needs a release. And for TRL, S being away meant a reversion back to Lord of the Flies. Mommy had left, and he was in charge.
Well, one thing led to another, and he ended up in bed with Sarah Silverman.
Who, to TRL’s annoyance, S says looks like a monkey.
“Well, maybe, but a hot, nasty-talking, cute, horny, Jewish girl monkey,” says TRL. But TRL knew he would not be able to get S to understand Sarah’s draw on men. Basically, she was a guy. Crude-talking, annoying, focused on poo and piss and sex, but in the body of a hot chick. Which made her perfect.
TRL gets the boys in their pajamas – the same pajamas they have been wearing all week. S insists on giving them new pajamas every two days, if not daily. That just meant more laundry, knows TRL. But he was in charge now.
They also had the same socks. It wasn’t like a little smell was going to rot their feet. And they didn’t mind.
And having their beds unmade just made it ready for the boys to climb right back in and resume sleep. Which was how TRL felt about his own bed: an unmade bed was an invitation. An acknowledgement that life – the work and drudgery – was merely a pause in climbing back under the sheets, sighing and relaxing. Plus not making the bed meant less work.
The boys were asleep, some of the dishes were clean, and TRL is ready. He grabs his iPod, jumps into bed, pulls the covers over his body, wiggles his neck and head around the pillow to get comfortable, and props the iPod onto another pillow sitting on his chest. He hits “play” and there is Sarah Silverman, the horny little Jewish monkey, dancing around on his chest, introducing her big gay friends, her tasty cute sister, the dumb mustached boyfriend cop. Sarah in all her tasty-thigh, swaying breasts, ultra cute relaxed-look boy clothes, vagina and poo words spewing from her adorable simian mouth. Life is good.
posted by trl at 10:30 AM
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