There was this lady. Named after a bird. who ate like a bird. Except when there was dessert. She was very interested in the business of others. Especially what they were wearing. Little Bird was constantly on the look-out for exposed cleavage and peeping thighs. And she loved to write little pink slips detailing the transgressions of said offenders. She was dogged in her efforts to support the god-fearing men in their quest of denying ungodliness, especially when it beckoned in the form of female flesh.
But kind. Never have met a kinder one. This little bird would give the shirt off her back. Except that would expose her skin! So she’d buy you a shirt instead! When my twins were born, she bought Jess a pair of twin dolls. Every Thanksgiving, homemade apple pies showed up on my front step. Bouquets of lilacs every May. And she did this for everyone. She was an angel. How I loved her.
One day she pulled me aside, nervous and jittery. Apparently a church lady had come to see her husband about a marriage problem. Little bird’s tomato face recounted the story.
“Her husband wants to put his thing in strange places,” she fumbled for words.
“His thing?” I was completely lost.
“HIS MANHOOD!!!!” she whispered, WAY TOO LOUD.
SWEET JESUS! TELL ME THIS ISN’T REALLY HAPPENING???? I CAN COVER MY CLEAVAGE AND MY THIGHS. AND WEAR PANTYHOSE IN JULY. I CAN EVEN GO ALONG WITH CALLING SEX SUGAR. BUT I CAN’T CALL THAT BY ANY NAME BUT A PENIS! IT’S A FREAKING PENIS! AND I REFUSE TO TALK TO LITTLE BIRD ABOUT ORAL SUGAR!
I swallowed but my mouth was too dry and I gulped mid-swallow.
“His manhood?” I croaked … PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS … my mind was racing….
“YES! His manhood… and in…in…in…” she nervously tapped her bird-sized finger on her bird-sized lip, hoping I would get the message without her actually having to say the words! “Have you ever heard of anything like that?” She was actually serious. 50 years of dead freakin’ serious.
“WHAT???? YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS????” I lowered my voice. “His manhood there?!” PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS
“YESSSSS!” she hissed.
“I’ve heard of that, but in Canada?!” I crossed my fingers behind my back.
“This could be grounds for divorce….my husband’s never heard of it.”
LORD HAVE MERCY! IS THIS CONVO REALLY HAPPENING????? IT’S THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY! HE’S SIXTY YEARS OLD!!! “But they are married-I suppose if it’s consensual?”
“I wouldn’t if it was my husband…I’d send him and his manhood straight out the front door!”
PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS… Was this a dream? PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS PENIS…
“Yah, for sure,” I weakly complied. My knees felt like jelly, enough manhood talk for me.
“Listen, not to change the subject, but have you seen Mary’s sweater? You might want to check it out…think it may be a size too small.”
Little Bird flitted away in search of Mary’s cleavage.
And the talk of bigger birds perching in the wrong nest never came up again.
Happy Friday. Friends 🙂
ps: True story. seriously.