Pure Slush

flash ... without the wank

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by Justis Mills          One Rule for Picking Up a Woman  >

 

Come to the party but don’t even think about coming empty-handed. It’s a potluck. You can bring a bag of chips. You can bring a bottle of soda under each arm. You can even bring plates, but if you bring plates you’d better bring cups, also, and silverware. Bring a box of donuts, or a box of pizza. We don’t care. Bring anything. Bring your firstborn. Bring your spouse.

Come to the party but don’t sit in any of the seats. The seats are reserved for other guests. We’ve mapped out the dining room and the kitchen and the living room and the den and they’re all reserved. You’ll have to be escorted to the window. We have some ropes all ready and we’ll get you in a harness and let you hang outside. You’ll be given a long claw to pick up food with, and if you speak loudly you can be heard at the table.

Our last party, one of the window hangers confided in me personally before leaving. He said that swinging there in the muggy air made him feel like a baby again, and said thank you very much, with a handshake, for the experience. I said that we all do what we can, and thanked him for the six crates of tangerines.

We don’t keep the leftover food. This isn’t a business. It’s donated to the pit in our backyard. The pit is deep and its sludge eats what needs eating. The pit generates many insects. Even if you don’t feel like talking to the other guests, hanging on your rope, the insects will be happy to see you.

Bring a treasure chest full of gold chocolate doubloons. Bring a box of chargers for miscellaneous appliances, with spaghetti sauce. We like kitsch. We like sass. We like everything except the ones who come in with their hands in their pockets, looking at the wood floors we mopped extra special, saying, oh, uh, geez, uh, I thought –  

 

published 5 August 2013