“How long could a sexual
act take?” I'd wondered aloud. It’d been hours. I’d hoped he hadn’t killed her.
He was a pretty heavy guy. Rather fat, in fact.
I would often concern
myself with the thought of how the buttons remained on Jim’s business shirts. I
imagined his stomach to contain the kind of force shared only by a can of
tightly packed Pillsbury biscuit dough, so was tempted to cover my face when in
front of him for fear they’d pop off and “take an eye out”, as my grandmother
would have said. I believe my interest in physics began when I pondered the
mystery of how his tiny black belt was able to support his baggy dress pants
whilst having two negative factors working against it--a wide, flat rear-end
and gigantic protruding belly. Six inches up in back, six inches down in front.
Inanimate objects have often brought on deep compassion from me, and his
desperately thin belt was no exception (although I was assured the poor thing
was well relieved when his mistress was around as it was finally able to take a
holiday well deserved).
Excerpt from chapter twenty | hold your head up | EVERYTHING'S HUNKY DORY: A MEMOIR
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