SKUNK TALKIN'

Skunk Mullens was bending my ear.

“The old man was trying to give me knowledge, the gift of time,  yet my head was off on it’s own – a matter of  flesh over substance…drive versus faith…I failed myself and “potential” is a hard word beyond the p-o-t…the nook' and the weed did me…the big fall…before that though, goddamn! I was somethin’!

Hell muthafuker you don’t know what I did  ----1200 women a year...give, or take. Break that down and what? Maybe, 14 women a day?…that’s like every two hours goin’ all night on an average day. That’s about right. Understand,my math don't count. I did the orgy scene so numbers blurr especially in the dark,with the haze, and all, so I gotta average. First apartment I tried to keep score, had the hash marks…no pun…the scorecard – the old fashioned “four lines and a slash = 5” – I filled a wall with them, then put the used up pencil stubs, 20 or so in a cup shaped like a womans crotch. Beer mug…birthday present. Mom."

Skunk on a roll. His mouth gets way ahead of mind and he just runs with it tryin' to keep up.

"...First man in the league to average 200 yds a game, 20 rebounds, thirty points and 22 assists, bat for 389, 42 hr, and 214 rbi – MVP in all three leagues and anchored the 400 and 1600 yard (not meters back in those days) relays on the big Olympiad. I’m not bullshitting you. I surfed some back in the day…Swami’s down La Jolla way. Rode the Big Shore twice…"

Who am I to argue?

"North Carolina…UNC…they been good to me…even paid for my knee surgery. They don’t like me talking about them, but I owe them, you know? Think they’d appreciate a lack of association, but I am obliged. I know that don’t mean much to you but I can now walk straight when I have the energy and I’m due. Some day soon when these pills kick in, I’ll kick your ass and that shit-eatin’ grin. Don’t be laughing at me! I fuckered-up Manny Mancini, I fuck you up. Took out a four hundred pound Somoan dude…hit the floor like a truck. So don’t fuck with me. Dr. there wrote me a letter and I avoided viet nam. 4-fuckin-F, just like that. Nothing I did wrong but I feel guilty not being there when so many of my kind and mind were, yet how could I complain about not being in harm's way?  That Evil war. The ones that died and the ones came back….man that was tragic. Stupid dumb luck. Painful as the knee be, I avoided that tragedy…freaky luck. …and what war isn’t evil? Spiteful.Makes no sense."

Sometimes we do agree.

"Smart girls never did trust me they thought me too pretty to succeed and they maybe got that right. He’s a hot trotter but can he finish? He got the buttocks but does he have the brain? Does he deliver the thrust or the Trust? 
There were four women made my list. Only four. Women far better than I deserve who all gave me something more lasting than ass. Which at the time I never realized, because I was of that singular focus and frame of mind, but do now and wish I could talk to them, but they avoid me or disappear, and I miss ‘em. Different worlds. Maybe it was me that disappeared. I regret I never gave them more. They would have been good for me and me for them I know it. They all saw through me to that desperate child and I saw the disappointment in their eyes. Not your mama, son. But I blubber, middle of the night I huddle in fright and find myself so alone. Nothing to fill the hole. And I am not talking orifices. I’m talkin’…. Private."

At this juncture he abruptly pushes back from the bar and bolts headlong for the john.

...returning refreshed and in mid thought:

"...Flew to Madrid on a private jet with Quni Rey. Lived in a penthouse for eight months. She was shooting “The Spanish Chapter”. Nice time. She’s fuckin’ Mad you know. That tiny little bubble turns into a brutal bitch and she’ll pop you. I took a gun away from her on the third night. I thought I was dead, her anger boiling over she was out of control waving the sonofabitch all over but mainly at me. I went to the front desk, and gave it to their security guy, and asked that he turn it over to the police which he assured me he would while he was smiling and nodding. So Quni then panics because she has no protection, and relied on The Gun to give her that comfort. (I obviously did little to provide those needs or assuage those fears.) She was afraid of the dark without the gun. I was afraid of the dark with the gun. We fought, but that usually meant we were due for each other and the rest was like freight trains fucking. We were bad for each other,but man we were good. I figure I was her last pole dance. Then she went back to New York and Heather, and you know the rest. 
Heather was the right thing. Saw her at a toy store in The Village. Baby stroller, second little girl. She bore it, I guess. Articificial. I obviously was not a consideration. Who can blame them? Knowing that little kid came from my loins…

It’s okay. I could never bear the burden of child bearing…I mean...rearing…raising...Not the birthin’...Be a bad dad…better off alone.

But damn it gets fucking lonely sometime."

Which brings us here.