Salamander stories: Part 1

Corbett | January 4, 2004 10:54 PM

Salamander cried when he saw the outcome. The Jets were ahead by 17. "Shit. Fuck. What is this disaster? I've lost $50." Then he sunk into his chair and sulked. Grenda walked back in from the kitchen carrying two Smirnoff Ice's and a bag of Doritos in her teeth. "It's only football you dork," she said as she kicked his feet off the end table. "You think you're depressed, I was just quoted in a NY Observer article talking about how vagina size matters. Now everyone comes up to me and says 'Hey there Big V....How's the canyon?...Yo le de yoooo?' It's horrible."
"You were talking about vagina sizes? Why?!" Salamander grimaced as he thought about it. Wild vaginas of all sizes running through the streets of New York. "Isn't it penis size that matters?"
"Yeah, I thought so too, but actually it's all about the grip. Or so it says in the article. Friction is the formula."
"I remember this one skinny model girl I hooked up with once. Her vagina was like the Bat cave. 'Helllloooo? Anyone in therrrrrreeeee?' You know what I'm saying? I never felt more lonely in my whole life."
"You're a pig," shot back Grenda. "A pig, pig, gross disgusting, asshole PIG."
"But a pig with a matching vagina," he smiled back.
"Let's just drop the subject, OK?" Grenda didn't want to hear about skinny model girls. As far as she was concerned, all of Salamander's past, present, and future, was wrapped up inexorably in her life. All hers. Forever hers.

Grenda came from a place where people thought lawyers were a big deal, and knew how much weight a Ford F-100 could haul. She knew how to bake a pie, make eggnog, and how to chop firewood. Salamander was completely different. He was Puerto Rican Chinese and ....

[So what happens next? Give me a suggestion.]

Category: Ramble