Lulu is trying to chew her huge wad of cherry Hubba Bubba,
but Priscilla just wants to blab about her hubba hubba
love life. This week she is strangely riveted
by yet another tattoo parlor stud. He pierced her nipples,
added a new purple spider web to her left knee. Or is that fishnet?
Bananas loves words like ‘studmuffin’ and ‘beefcake’.
She daydreams her own pornographic alternate reality,
bulging with brawny lumberjack maulers—
three hairy beefcakes for every hole
& a soundtrack of frenetic chainsaws
but why does this stuff turn her on? The weirder
and bloodier it gets, the more she gets off
until she’s floating around, wiggling her phantom fingers.
“If that was my dream, it would be man-on-man.
They wouldn’t be cutting ME into little pieces,”
posits the Paper Cut Queen as she hacks another clean stanza
onto butcher paper. Darlingtonia’s friend arrives, dressed in exotic cat finery.
Her name is Florentyna Leow. Rhymes with meow.
She has three tangling tails and whiskers that never stop twitching
when she mischievously giggles. She slinks towards the root cellar,
fondling some kind of juicy, grotesque melon. Truth be told,
the other girls don’t even ask about D’s sexual proclivities.
CandyDishDoom adds some prick to the meow mix. A poet
named Scott who claims to have trained his wily kittens to steal
limited edition Bukowski books. Lulu decides if he’s going to hang
with the ladies, he’ll need a little makeup. She starts to paint
macabre streaks of rouge onto his cheeks while interviewing him
about his modus operandi. She can’t quite pinpoint his fetish,
but thinks it has something to do with dirty lambs wool.
Bananas starts to lick Priscilla’s knees.
Disconcerting squelching sounds drift up from the root cellar.
A new girl appears in the doorway and Priscilla looks up hungrily;
growls, “What a great pair of eyes you have!” Lulu snaps her cherry
gum and paints the poet’s face. CandyDishDoom giddily exclaims,
“Our fantasies are SO abnormal!” as Bananas Flambé parades
around the room in her filthy white fur, bleating.
Scott licks his chops, The P.Q. chops a stanza,
the new girl claps then extracts a bourbon ball
from her pink lunchbox. “These little fellas really pack a wallop,”
she offers sheepishly. The entire gang advances.
