Ronald Rabbit Is a Dirty Old Man (12 page)

“But you said them inside your head when you played with yourself.”

“How did you know that?”

“Everybody does.”

“They do? I thought I was the only one. I used to worry about it.”

“You can stop worrying.”

“I already have. Are you going to fuck me in the cunt now?”

“Not tonight.”

“Because of your promise? I’ll release you from it.”

“Because I haven’t got the strength.”

“Oh.”

“And the first time ought to be a good one.”

“I guess you’re right. Will it hurt as much as this did?”

“Not a tenth as much as this did.”

“Oh. You liked this, didn’t you? What we did? Ass-fucking?”

“Couldn’t you tell?”

“Uh-huh. You roared like a bull, do you know that? Larry? Have you done this a lot? With other girls?”

“Hardly at all.”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Why?”

“They mostly don’t want to.”

“Are you serious? I guess you are. Why?”

“Afraid it will hurt. And they occasionally think it’s disgusting.”

“Do you think it’s disgusting?”

“Not at all.”

“Neither do I. I think it’s the closest thing to dying and going to heaven. Can we do this a lot? I don’t mean tonight, I know you’re tired. I mean, when we see each other from time to time. Unless you don’t want us to see each other from time to time.”

“I want us to see each other often.”

“That’s good, because so do I. And I want you to fuck me in the ass whenever you feel like it, and I want you to feel like it a lot. I think I have to take a crap again.”

“Be my guest.”

Flush!

“If the word gets around,” she said on her return, “the laxative market is going to collapse. A whole industry down the drain. Did you hear what I said?
’Down the drain.
’ I can only make jokes by accident. When I try to say something funny it never works. Are you ready to go to sleep?”

“Well, I was more or less thinking along those lines.”

“Could I sleep here? With you? Because I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Sure.”

“What it is, I don’t want to be too far from a toilet. Also I want to stay with you. You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Good. Larry?”

“Hmmmmm?”

“I think I love you.”

She certainly seems to. And it’s the most delightfully uncomplicated sort of love, Steve. I moved into her apartment, and she cooks me these marvelous meals of sweet-and-sour shrimp and chicken fried rice and moo goo gai pan. She’s a fantastic Chinese cook. (Hates Italian food, throws up at the sight of a tomato, can’t stand grass because it smells like oregano.) Every morning she toddles off to the office, and every afternoon she toddles home, and we fuck a whole hell of a lot.

She doesn’t care if I get a job. She doesn’t care if I screw other girls. She doesn’t even care if I have them over to her apartment and screw them in her bed. Likes me to do it, likes me to tell her all about it, what we said and what we did and what it was like. Sometimes she sits cross-legged on the bed while I tell her, sits there and plays with herself. It’s a lot of fun to watch a pretty girl play with herself ….

All she wants in the whole world is for me to fuck her. In the mouth, between the tits, in the twat, under the arm, between the toes, anywhere, anytime, anyhow. And up the old wazoo.
Especially
that last. Loves to take it there. It still hurts. Not as much as the first time, but it still hurts.

I don’t know what we’ll do if it ever stops hurting. I suppose we’ll think of something.

Well, I talked it all over with Rozanne, and she agreed that I had to share this discovery with you. It’s not enough to love a woman, to cherish her, to adore her. It’s just simply not enough.

What you’ve got to do, Steve, is haul off and fuck Fran in the ass.

Really sock it to her.

But for God’s sake,
don’t let her know about it in advance
. In fact, be damned careful she doesn’t get hold of this letter.

Because if you tell her what you want to do, or if you try to build up to it gradually, it just ain’t gonna come off properly. No way, baby. Because the world is full of women who are totally stone-certain that the one thing they don’t want is to be buggered. Even the experimentally inclined ones tend to change their mind after it’s in an inch or so. Because it hurts.

Which, of course, is the whole point. First you burn their guts out, and then, just when they’re sure they can’t take any more of the pain, you surprise them with a wave of pleasure that really knocks them out because they weren’t expecting it. And once you’ve done that, you own them.

I’ve been trying to imagine what my life might have been like if someone had whispered this secret to me in my formative years. (Come to think of it, Norman Mailer more or less spelled out this idea in a couple of things. Maybe the trouble is that the important lessons of life are the ones we have to learn on our own.)

But if I had known then what I know now, Lisa would never have wanted to part company. She would have been transformed from an aggressive, castrating ball-breaker into a thing of beauty and a joy forever. And Fran, if truly buggered (we did it once, and she didn’t like it, so I hurried up and came quick and agreed never to try it again), would not be in Cuernavaca at this very moment.

Well, have the sense to learn from my experience. Wait for a night when you’re sure you won’t come prematurely. Warm her up plenty, get her in the mood. Tell her you want to try it doggie style.

And then, when she’s waiting with open box, give her the surprise of her life.

Pow!

Wham!!

Bang!!!

She’ll love you forever, old pal.

With the utmost sincerity,

Your Friend, Larry

cc: Nancy Hall

20

c/o Gumbino

311½ West 20
^th
St.

New York 10011

July 9

Miss Nancy Hall

Camp Arondequois R.D.
#2

Seaford, Vt.

Dear Nancy:

By now I trust you and Dawn are settled in and adjusted to your role as junior counselors. If you haven’t formed any alliances yet with the boy counselors, let me give you both a word of advice. Watch out for the dynamite studs—i.e., the swimming counselor, the athletic director, and all the standard Greek-god types. They may look great, but they won’t fuck well. It comes too easy to them and all they want to do is get in and come in a hurry and cut another notch on their cock and find some other girls. As they get older they may have possibilities, but not now.

Instead, pick out some agreeable freak and pitch him right over the center of the plate. The kind of guy you like immediately as a person but don’t even think of in sexual terms. Because, unless you misplace your intuition and pick a stone-faggot,
he’ll
be thinking of
you
in sexual terms, and that’s what it’s all about. Pick the kid running the nature hut, or the one who teaches arts and crafts. If he turns out to be a virgin, so much the better. He’ll never forget you, and you’ll be into a whole new scene.

End of lecture.

I’m enclosing a copy of a letter to Steve. You know about Steve. I think you’ll get a kick out of this one. So will Dawn, but you especially, Nancy.

Have a good summer, kids. I envy you all that fresh air and sunshine. But New York does have its compensations, as you’ll read.

Do you get days off there? If you can ever make it to New York, please do. You can always stay overnight at our place. Rozanne is anxious to meet you.

Madly and poetically,

Larry

21

c/o Gumbino

311½ West 20
^th
St.

New York 10011

July 11

Miss Ellen Jamison

c/o General Delivery

Bryn Mawr, Pa.

Dear Ellen:

By now I trust you’re settled in with your mother and her new husband. I also trust you remember I said I would write you c/o General Delivery. I’m also marking the envelope
“Hold for Pickup”
to
prevent some over-zealous postmaster from taking matters into his own hands. I know you’re positive your mother wouldn’t open your mail. But why tempt fate? At the least, you would have to invent something when she asked you who the letter was from. I’ve always found that it pays to tell the truth whenever possible. Since it’s rarely possible, the idea is to minimize situations in which lying becomes necessary.

How are you getting along with your mother and her new husband? (I hate to keep calling him that, it’s so damned depersonalizing, but although you must have told me his name several times, I can’t remember it. I keep thinking Ralph, but that can’t be right, can it? I’ll call him Ralph in this letter just to save time.)

There is one problem you are going to have to face, one question you are going to have to answer. It is simply this—whether or not to fuck Ralph.

No point pretending the question won’t come up. You’re both sexual and desirable, honey, and you’ve got enough of a mother hangup so that you can’t help being attracted to her men for purely competitive reasons. (I seem to recall discussing this with you.) So you are going to want to fuck Ralph and Ralph is going to want to fuck you. You will both also want
not
to fuck each other. That’s where the conflict is.

Be grateful you’re not a virgin anymore. That would just make things more complicated.

I can’t tell you how to answer the question. What I
can
tell you is this: If you decide to fuck him, you’ve got to do it in a messless fashion.

(1) Your mother must not find out. This means that you must avoid discovery. It also means that you must be sure Ralph will not, through some misguided impulse, tell her himself. He could do this out of guilt, or he could throw it in her face out of sheer shitfulness. If there’s the slightest chance he might do this, stay the hell away from him.

(2) Neither of you can fall in love with the other. I think you’re sharp enough not to fall in love with Ralph. It would be a natural mistake for you to make, but fortunately you’re sufficiently self-analytical enough to be forewarned. And if you make it sufficiently obvious that the whole thing is inconsequential to you, male pride should keep Ralph from falling in love with you. Unless he’s a hopeless loser, in which case you ought to stay away from him in the first place.

End of lecture.

Things have been generally good for me lately. As you can see from the return address, I’ve moved slightly uptown and am living with Rozanne Gumbino. I think you read some of my letters about her during your defloration. Well, not during. Before or after.

Have a good summer, kid. I envy you all that fresh air and sunshine. But New York does have its compensations, as you know.

Do you ever get a chance to get away? If you can ever make it to New York, please do. You can always stay overnight at our place. Rozanne is anxious to meet you.

Madly and poetically,

Larry

22

c/o Gumbino

311½ West 20
^th
St.

New York 10011

July 12

Miss Mary Katherine O’Shea

and Miss Barbara Judith Castle

Bar-Bison Dude Ranch

Altamont, New Mexico

Dear Merry Cat and B.J.:

By now I trust you are both settled in for the summer, riding spirited bays and roans and mucking out the stables. When I think of you on the horses, I wish I were your saddles. When I think of the stables, I am reminded of that furnished room in Darien.

May I offer some unsolicited advice? It is, after all, one of the prerogatives of old age. If you’re not in the mood, just skip the following paragraph.

Here goes. The thing is, the two of you are very much involved with one another. As I’m sure you have already come to realize. This never constituted any enormous hangup while you were at school, because the other four daughters of Lancaster were around, and there were various males, myself not (I fondly hope) the least among them.

Now you’re out in God’s country with nothing much around but squares on vacation and cowboys on horseback. You may dig some of the cowboys—anything’s possible—in which case there’s no problem. You may even dig some of the squares, as far as that goes, in which case again there’s no problem.

But it’s also possible that you won’t, and that there won’t be any other interesting females around either, and that you’ll have only each other.

If so, there’s nothing to worry about. That’s the whole point, there’s nothing to worry about. The only worry is worry, to paraphrase FDR. Because you might start brooding that you’re lesbians and that that’s bad and all the rest of it. If you wind up spending the entire summer just balling each other, that’s perfectly fine. It’s much better than balling someone else whom you don’t like, just to convince yourself you’re straight. End of lecture.

Things have been generally good for me lately. As you can see from the return address, I’ve moved slightly uptown and am living with Rozanne Gumbino. I think you read some of my letters about her.

Have a good summer, kids. I envy you all that fresh air and sunshine. But New York does have its compensations, as you know.

I don’t suppose you’ll ever get a chance to get away? But if the summer is a bummer and you quit early, please make it to New York if possible. You can always stay overnight at our place. Rozanne is anxious to meet you.

Madly and poetically,

Larry

23

c/o Gumbino

311½ West 20
^th
St.

New York 10011

July 13

Miss Alison Keller

c/o General Delivery

Hicksville, Long Island, N.Y.

Dear Alison:

By now I trust you are settled in for the summer with your folks. I hope the painting is going well, and that the rest of the situation is not as bad as you thought it might be.

I also trust you remember I said I would write you c/o General Delivery. I’m also marking the envelope
“Hold for Pickup”
to prevent some over-zealous postmaster from taking matters into his own hands. I know you’re positive your parents wouldn’t open your mail. But why tempt fate? At the least, you would have to invent something when they asked you who the letter was from. I’ve always found that it pays to tell the truth whenever possible. Since it’s rarely possible, the idea is to minimize situations in which lying becomes necessary.