Vagina, still sitting on the porch steps, cradled her head disconsolately in both hands. "South Carolina, shit." Everybody back home knew she was from Virginia. It was awfully hot. She was too tired to make her way back to the spaceship, and by now it must be 120 degrees inside. WHY didn't she think to grab some aspirin on the way out? Would the Eeemelda woman have aspirin? Vagina didn't think so. She seemed not even to have clothes.
Or leeches. Where WERE the promised leeches? She'd been given to understand there were even some of her favorites pastels. The pink and light blue ones. Eggshell. Pale green. She was very fond of leeches.
But not as fond of them as she'd been so very long ago when she was young, before the surgery... When she met HIM for the first time. Disciple of... Ayn Rand then, but she, Vagina, set him straight, showed him what it really meant to play the hooters. Ah, nostalgia, she must not let it distract her from the perils of her current situation. Yet still, still, there'd been that brief glimpse of the man they called "Bub", before they took him off to the chicken coop.
She brushed away a tear. He was so like Alan, so virile, yet so....tender... Could it be that fate...??? |
