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Fiction #158
(published December 18, 2003)
That Ain't No Star, Baby. That's a Police Helicopter!
by Jason Dulde

Genvieve came over last night to keep me company while I watched the Cubs kick ass on TV. I cooked her some spaghetti with fresh oysters, spinach leaves, fresh tomatoes and a garlic tomato sauce that I poured out of the can (but didn't tell her).

She was enamored of me, and practically followed me home after a poetry reading one night, like a little puppy dog. Anyway, that night was okay for starters, but tonight was something like a light bulb flipping over and then on again.

Genna writes poetry about maudlin subjects like vampires, and shit like that. Some horror, and some dark star type pieces. I think I was the only one that shouted out loud after she read. Everybody else thought that she was being willfully perverse. Anyway, I went on after she did, and read my piece about Jack Nicholson and his Astronaut role in Terms of Endearment, which was my shining accomplishment to date. She was the only one that could dig it, and so I suppose we were a match for each other.

"I watch sports to dull my mind," I said to her. "It's the only thing that requires no thinking whatsoever. It's living an illusion that everybody can share, and specifically the cats in the Northern portion of Chicago. Anyway, they lose nearly every season, and Cubs fans are loyal like dogs. That's why I watch it."

"Well, I think it's cool. I mean you have something to do, besides work, that interests you."


She dug her fork into the spaghetti and pulled out a tomato that looked exactly like a big, red penis head. She raised her fork and showed it to me.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" she said

I looked at the penis head tomato chunk and laughed. "Only the best for you, darling."

She slipped the forkful into her mouth and swallowed it. Each of us was quiet for the next few bites.

The Cubs had runners on first and second and only one out. They only needed one run, and that would be it. A good sacrifice fly would maybe do the trick.

Genvieve was new to town, and a little bit naïve. Wild, but also naïve. She had worked odd jobs like stripping and telephone sex operator. All this in the mere seven or eight months that she'd been in town. She fell for all the Hollywood Superstar, life in the fast lane baloney. I did not want to burst her bubble. I had been in that situation before. Everybody in town, except for the ones that were from here, went through it.

Anyway, she went into a spiel about fate, and the poetry reading from earlier that night. "I was expecting something just like this to happen," she said. "Nobody turns me on with their poetry, but you."

I reached around and patted myself on the back, and then gave her an Elvis, "Thankyouverymuch," complete with sneer.

She looked straight at me, "No, really, you rock." I saw the stars in her eyes.

"Ah, yes. And you . . . Hey, well, let's neither of us quit our day jobs," I said.

A police helicopter drummed up some noise outside, and above my apartment.

Instantly, she became very sober. She directed me, "take off your pants. I am very fucking horny." She reached over and yanked at my fly. My plate of half-finished spaghetti flipped over and onto the carpet.

"Hey, wait a minute. Shit. I don't have any carpet cleaner."

She had my fly all the way down, and pulled out my penis. She said, "This is my favorite open mic in the whole wide world."

Then she started one of her vampire poems, and started sucking in between verses. I lay my head back on the back of the couch. She was good. Better than the poem. Anyway, after several stanzas, I came into her mouth. She must have swallowed it, because there was no evidence anywhere of what had just taken place.

"Listen," she said. I have been waiting for a man like you to come into my life. I am just about to get kicked out of my apartment. Is it cool if I stay here for a couple weeks? I really dig you."

At that point, It was hard to deny her, but I forced myself to say, "No. Actually I don't think that's such a good idea. I am very sorry, baby."

Outside, the helicopter kept thumping out it's noise.

She grabbed her purse. "After what I just did for you? Fine! I'm out of here!" She walked rapidly towards the door.

I was a little rattled. "Hey, that's a little bit harsh, don't you think? Not to mention a little bit presumptive?"

She said, "You don't know what you're missing!" and she slipped furtively out the door, leaving it open behind her.

The police helicopter left after a couple minutes, and my apartment was completely silent. the plate was still overturned on the carpet. I picked it up and walked over to the kitchen sink, to fetch a sponge.

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