The thunderous knocking pulled me out of my subconscious dream world with a start. With the blurred vision of slept-in contacts, I stumbled to the front door yawning away Neverland. The cold brass knob at my fingertips did little to wake me as the door swung open, revealing my next door neighbor. The nonchalant words that came flying at me from her mouth snapped me back into the living world, "Can I borrow three condoms?"
There we stood, frozen in time, as I processed with a dumbfounded glory her request. Who borrows condoms? I could understand asking for a cup of sugar, but why would she need three condoms? But neither of these logical questions passed my lips. Instead I blurted, "Pearl (name changed for my naughty neighbor's sake) It's the Sabbath!"
After equipping her with three Japanese Tie-Dye condoms that I had received as a gift several years ago, Pearl went on her nymphomaniac way. I thought my non-sexual relationship with Pearl had reached a peaceful harbor, but the textual bombs were only beginning to be dropped at my door step.
"Hi LeeLee, look out and tell me what you think of the guy who is leaving my house! QUICK!" read the first text. Not fully aware of the consequences for my actions, I looked out of the entry way and saw a middle aged man with remnants of blond hair and a tummy that looked tired exiting Pearl's abode. I texted back, "He creeps the hell out of me. Reminds me of my old Boy Scouts leader. Why?" In less than 10 seconds my phone chirped in announcement as Pearl's victorious reply arrived, "I JUST DID HIM!"
Over the next 3 days, I received similar texts from Pearl informing me to peer through my peep hole and give her feed back on the men that she was romping with. An Asian disk jockey, two blond lumber jack types, a bearded man who wore Teevas, a elfish looking critter with chicken legs, a middle school History teacher, a mechanic named Rusty, a mid 50's gentleman who drove a silver Buick Park Avenue and a very large ginger all tumbled back into society after experiencing Pearl.
Diagraming the battlefield's pros and cons of each encounter has become my latest hobby, and like most addictions, my heart begins to race when I hear the excited tone of a text message from Pearl. Thank you, Pearl, for reminding me that it doesn't pay to be a whore.