writeforfun

(note: the actual title is "Second Window on the Right"; you'll see why as you read. But this title applies too. Thanks for your input, WFF)

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To: Miranda
Subject: An American Gigolo in Amsterdam

Thanks for the email. I’ve been meaning to write you back but I’ve been kinda busy and I don’t have my own computer (I’m in an Internet café right now) so I’m gonna to fill you in on what’s been going on. Plus, I’ve got a picture for you so you can see what I’m talking about.

Anyway, to answer your question, momma always said things turned out the way they did because I stopped believing in God Almighty. She never did understand what I stopped believing in was her version of God Almighty, the one who hates Phoenicians (or is it Philistines?), Pharaohs, Amalekites, Jebuzites, Parasites and just about every other kind of “ite” there is known to man.

Oh, and, of course, He (that is, the Big Fella) hates that one thing that is the reason we’re all here to begin with: S-E-X. Yes, I said it! So there. Sorry, I forgot. He hates fags, too.

It’s a shame really, that He hates sex so much. Why did He invent in the first place?

Before daddy had that “accident,” (what momma calls it) he used to read us those stories in the Old Testament about King David and King Solomon and the parts that always impressed me was how many wives and concub-, concabuses, or however you say it, those guys had! I mean, Solomon had like 700 of ‘em. I always asked Daddy to read those parts over again.

“Daddy, why did King David have 500…(the c-word again!)?” I’d ask him. Mind you, I was about the age when hair starts to sprout in certain places on your body and geyers of pus erupt from zits on your face.

Daddy would get this look on his face, kind of a sly smile and a glimmer in his eye, like he was caught up in some kind of heavenly reverie and then he’d say, “Well, son, I figure he was just a lucky guy.”

Oh, that made my momma mad! You shoulda seen her, face steamin’ red while she was sittin’ there! Suffice it to say, that ended the nightly Bible readings from the Book of Kings in our house! In fact, momma, tore the pages out and burned ‘em! In fact, that started a whole lotta burnin’ because she went through the Good Book with fine comb tearin’ out everything that had anything to do with pro-creatin’ and all. Gone were all the titillating stories about how this fella or that “knew” his wife and she bore him about 18 children. Goodbye Song of Solomon and she even tore out the part about the Holy Ghost visiting the Virgin Mary. I figure half the Bible was gone when she was done with it.

“Momma, that’s God’s Word you’re burnin’” I said to her when she threw the pages of the holy scripture on the Weber grill and sprayed lighter fluid on them. She flung a match angrily at the saturated pages and up they went, the black ash feather light and drifting up to God’s throne itself and no doubt leavin’ a pleasant, smoky fragrance in His giant nostrils.

“Apparently, some mistakes was made,” she said seriously, poking at the burning pages with a pair of tongs and squirtin’ half a can full of Kingston lighter onto the fire.

Hmmm…I thought. Even God makes mistakes!

Of course, with all that burnin’ my early sexual education came to an abrupt halt as I could longer simply reach for the Good Book up there on the fire place mantle and scroll through to some story about how some prophet got drunk and naked with his daughters.

Still it wasn’t long before I’d discovered one of the gravest sins of all, recounted in the Biblical tale of Onan (also burned by momma) an act which I reproduced many times and still do to this day, to my everlasting shame and potentially eternal torment. A Catholic friend of mine said this particular act is one of the worst of sins and will certainly earn you a spot in the furnace of the Cloven Hoofed one. Momma said if I did that it would give me hairy palms, but all it seemed to do was give me a hairy back.

Fortunately, I come from a church that says if you ask for forgiveness and repent, you probably can still get into heaven, depending on God’s mood that day and maybe whoever happens to be guarding the Pearly Gates (St. Peter, good chance. St. Michael, forget it).

I’ve got the asking for forgiveness part down. It’s the repentance that I never got the hang of.

I don’t want to bore you with a lot of details. But somewhere along the line, well, I rebelled against my momma. It was probably after the news came that daddy got electrocuted in the bathtub of the local, how did momma put it? Oh yes, Bawdy House. I guess he had a dispute over terms of payment and the temperamental temptress who had just serviced him thought it was all well and good to toss her plugged in curling iron right into the tub.

Daddy’s death broke my heart. But it made me more determined to see what life had to offer, to take a bite of the forbidden fruit, to explore the boundaries. And explore them I have. I’ve gone places and done things I never knew could be done. Most of the time the driving force behind my worldly travels, education and exploits has been what ladies often like to refer to as the “male brain.”

Yeah. You know what I’m talkin’ bout. Don’t pretend you don’t now. I know you’re blushing.

And that’s how I ended up here, in Amsterdam. I didn’t even know there was such a place as Amsterdam and when I heard of it, I thought it might be up in Wisconsin somewhere. But this guy at a party told me I had to take an airplane there and the girls were really easy. In my mind, it became a place where a young fella could live like, well, like Solomon with the concubusses and all. I didn’t realize you had to pay for it like daddy did and pretty soon my money was close to running out. The truth is, when a guy’s gotta choose between food and the OTHER, 9 times outta 10 he’ll choose the OTHER, but finally my stomach got the better of me and I knew I had to earn some money and find a better place to sleep than the top bunk in a youth hostel.

I managed to get a fake worker’s permit from a fag named Ricardo and then I thought what would be the perfect business for me? Daddy always said I ought to do what I love and die lovin’ what I do and figured he set a pretty good example. So, with that advice weighing heavy in my mind, I thought I’d put out my shingle as a “Gentleman of the Night” in the famous Red Light District of Amsterdam. The building owner thought I was crazy, but I was able to pay my first month’s rent with what was left of the money daddy left me.

Now I wear a G-string and pose in the window, trying to attract paying customers. The second window on the right, second floor. You can see it in the picture I attached on this email. Yep, that’s my space. I was hoping for a lotta lady customers. After all, I’m American, 5-8 and 240 pounds with gorilla like hair on my forearms and shoulders, ha ha. What lady can resist a package like that? One hundred percent Amercian beefcake. But I’ve had a few guys who want to come up. They offer to pay real good, too. But no way man. No faggots. Ricardo says it’s no big deal. It’s just business and I should change my mind.

I did actually get one lady. She was a German. Man, she was bigger than I was with a little blond mustache almost and suffice it to say it was like trying to get a square peg in a round hole. We just kind rolled around on the floor a little bit and I scuffed up my elbow. She kept pointing to my nether region and saying something like “Klein! Klein!” but I don’t know what that means. Maybe it means “Big”. She left in a big huff and I realized I shoulda demanded payment in advance. But hey, I’m learning my biz.

So, that where things stand today. I sit up there in that window and sometimes I pose and wear a thong (Don’t get too excited now!). Mostly I watch the crowds of tourist flowin’ by like a river of raging hormones. Sometimes they look up and me and laugh or take a picture or wave and I wave back. I’ve got to get some customers soon. I’ve got to eat and pay the rent on this place.

I’ve got a feeling I shouldn’t be doing this with what it says in the Good Book and all. I know momma’s gonna be pissed off. But I’m not telling her. Please don’t tell her. She’s getting old and she’s meaner than ever.

If the ladies don’t start coming…maybe I’ll have to consider the fellas, too, like Ricardo says I should. I can’t leave here until I get some money and right now it ain’t lookin’ too good.

Momma was right about one thing. I guess the Almighty does make mistakes ‘cos I’m a big one. I feel like one of them stories momma ripped out of Good Book and burned up.

Well, I gotta go. Back to the window. I’ll try to check my email again next week. I hope this answers some of your questions. If you remember, say a prayer for a big fat American gigolo stuck half a world from home.

Bye now.

phurst

Of course, with all that burnin’ my early sexual education came to an abrupt halt as I could(no) longer simply reach for the Good Book up there on the fire place mantle and scroll through to some story about how some prophet got drunk and naked with his daughters.

Don’t pretend you don’t now(or know?)


Very good. Loved it.

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CodeRed

This is great, very enjoyable and easy to read. The language used creates a very vivid picture of your character.

There's a couple of spelling and punctuation niggles, but they were quickly overlooked - and you even have the excuse that your character may not be the most proficient when it comes to such things.

Well done!

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All my best thoughts were stolen by the ancients. Ralph Waldo Emerson

writeforfun

Thank you very much for reading. Yes, I did omit a few words and misspell here and there; thanks for reading; it was an experiment.

And, yes, I have been reading and critiquing others' work. that's what it's all about.

regards

writeforfun

Thanks CodeRed. I appreciate your reading and commenting. I'm glad it worked for you and I apologize for the unkempt parts, grammar, spelling, omissions, etc.

This was an experiment in telling a story via that popular medium, email. I look forward to reading your material. anything posted currently?

CodeRed

The errors were fairly few and far between (missing an 's' in 'geysers', for example), and really didn't interrupt the reading for me, so I thought better of pointing them out individually.

I haven't posted anything recently, but I'm working on a new story which I should be able to post in the next couple of weeks.

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All my best thoughts were stolen by the ancients. Ralph Waldo Emerson

RinK

This is a wonderful story. At first, you almost drove me away with the horrible language, but I soon realized that it was perfect characterization. I was really able to get into it - it's interesting and manages to be deep underneath a shallow narrator...oh yes, and it's funny. I loved that he rebelled against his mother's vision of God for a religion that better fit him, and I especially loved the part that said "Jezubites, Parasites, and just about every other 'ite' there is known to man."

There are a lot of grammar mistakes, but it's an e-mail message from someone who doesn't seem to be very educated, so maybe that was intentional. Over all, great story! Can't wait to read more from you.

LolliAdverbs

I liked it. I'm thinking along with Rink that grammar errors were intentional because the internet tends to kill that sort of thing, so I had enjoyed them as a integral part of the story. I love that you didn't have to include a picture in order for us to know exactly what the picture is.

Great work!

joifulartist84

I just knew the word was going to be "sex", I knew it!

I liked it. It's an interesting experiment, writing a story as an email. On the one hand, I've never written an email worded like that to catch up on old times with anyone. On the other hand, I think it works anyway.

The character seems well fleshed out. Kind of a worldly redneck (yes I know that's an oxymoron). It is entirely plausible in this way that the MC thinks he can pimp himself out to women... and is rather mistaken in the kind of attention he receives.

It might be interesting to make this into sort of a series of short stories, like each one is an email from the MC detailing his encounters in Amsterdam, Paris, New York, etc. Just a thought for you.

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Salutations from my corner of the universe,
Joi


"Primitive life is very common and intelligent life is fairly rare. Some would say it has yet to occur on Earth."- Stephen Hawking