I ain't gonna do you wrong while you're gone
Ain't gonna do you wrong 'cause I don't wanna
All I'm askin'
Is for a little respect when you come here (just a little bit)
I'm about to give you all of my money
And all I'm askin' in return, honey
Is to give me my profits
When you get home
I slept with a married woman the other night.
I didn't fuck her, I just slept with her.
Harley is an alien. Rather than being from Betelguise as one might suppose, or even Guilford, Harley was from Peru. He gained legal passage to the United States on some sort of visa; what kind I don't know. I imagine it was probably a tourist visa. Anyway, he's a young man, less than thirty. As soon as he reached the United States he looked for ways to stay here permanently.
He met a fat, lonely, middle aged woman and saw his chance. He wooed her and she fell in love with him and they were married. He was never in love with her, and before the ink was dry on the wedding certificate he hired a hooker and promptly gave his new bride the clap.
Little did he know that his wife, Tami, was nicknamed after the prince of darkness. "Lucy Furr" and he had been married for a couple or three years when I met her through an old friend who was her son's father.
Harley had wanted a housewife. Either the custom in Peru is for women to stay home and cook and clean as it used to be in the US, or he wanted her to be financially dependant on him so she wouldn't turn him in to the immigration authorities for his deceptive marriage, which Tami had figured out by then was a sham.
Lucy tried several times to seduce me, but I refuse to have sex with married women. I had struggled with refusing married women before. You might know or maybe just imagine that the temptation can be great at times. It was easy refusing Tami, because first, she's morbidly obese, and secondly, every time she's tried to seduce me she was shitfaced drunk.
Redd Foxx used to famously say "Beauty's only skin deep, but ugly's to the bone!"
Lucy Furr's nickname is well deserved. She'll tell you that herself. "I'm a shit", she says. She's tried to commit suicide several times. "I fuck up at everything," she says. "I can't even get killing myself right!"
I must confess that I have fallen - with one woman, who I didn't know was married. Linda had fled her physically and emotionally abusive husband, who had kept her a virtual prisoner for years, and wound up staying with Ralph and Charlie. She never talked much about her marriage, but mutual friends who had known her before she met me filled me in on the sordid details. I really felt sorry for this poor woman, at first, and before long we were lovers.
Then one morning after a particularly satisfying sexual encounter, she laughed that her husband was fighting the divorce.
"I thought you already were divorced", I said, horrified.
"No," she said. "We've been separated for two years, but he won't give up.
My soul was pained. I'd always been so proud of the fact that for all my sins there was this one that I had never committed. She convinced me that it wasn't really all that bad since in her heart she was divorced, she'd not been with him in two years, and besides, I didn't know.
Then we made love again, and I had no excuses. I vowed to never let it happen again, and had her back at Ralph's within a week; the temptation was too great.
That wasn't the case with Tami, who lived with me several months or more ago. I'd let her move in when her alien husband joined the Illinois National Guard and abandoned her to the streets while he was in basic training. As soon as he was out of training he had himself shipped to Afghanistan. He has no love for the US, only its money, which he faithfully sent home to Peru.
I threw Tami out when I caught her stealing from me. She wound up at Ralph's, and when his appendix burst she helped Charlie and Linda care for him until the elderly man died and they were all in the street. I let Charlie and Linda stay at my place until Linda died, and now I can't get rid of Charlie; she's had her mailiing address changed to mine through the post office and had it put on her drivers license.
In some states, including Ralph's birth state Oklahoma, Charlie and Ralph would have been legally married, as she'd been with him for nine years when he died, but Illinois doesn't recognise common law marriages. Grief stricken after his death, she didn't do much of anything but sit around and grieve. Grief turned to laziness and I started considering her a parasite and called the police to remove her, who informed me that I had to get a thirty day eviction notice from City Hall to get rid of her.
After that she got less lazy; We'll have to see how it goes. I think my calling her a squatter and a parasite might have gotten to her. She moved back in with Stuart a few days after I called the cops trying to get rid of her.
Tami had been staying at Todd's.
Todd was a race car driver. I don't know if he was a professional or an amateur, but his racing carrer ended with a horrible crash that left him permanently disabled. His brain damage keeps him from speaking coherently, and he has trouble controlling his muscles and walks with a kind of lurching limp.
As if his physical disabilities weren't enough, he's a dope addict. My guess is that his addiction started with the drugs he must have been administered after the accident.
The prostitutes all take advantage of him. Tami had met him through one of the hookers Ralph had employed. I really have to admire an 86 year old man who still runs the whores. Tami took advantage of Todd as well, moving in and promising him rent. She found out that Harley was legally obligated to support her fat lazy ass, so she got the alien in deep trouble with the army, who made him start sending Tami checks. She moved into a sleazy motel on Dirkson in a room not much bigger than the bed and dresser in it that she was paying as much as an apartment for.
Todd had become the crackwhore and dope dealer's taxi and rental car service of choice. Whenever a hooker needed a ride, she'd call Todd. I always liked it when they couldn't get hold of him, because then they'd call me and unlike Todd, I'd get laid for my trouble. Tami, thief at heart, daughter of a rich man who most likely got rich by thievery, had no moral opposition to taking advantage of Todd. Actually, I don't think she has any moral opposition to anything but prostitution.
I don't understand her, but then again, I don't understand women at all. Well, not good enough, anyway. I suspect that her opposition to prostitution stems from the fact that she's too fat for anybody to want to fuck, let alone pay for the ordeal.
So out of the blue Friday morning she called me at work, asking for a ride and wanting to know if I'd drink a few beers with her. She is fun to drink with; she can be funny as hell. "What happened to Todd's truck?" I asked. "Aren't you always conning him out of rides?"
"He rented it out," she said. "I really need a drink, if you'll come over and drink with me I'll buy."
She didn't have to buy - I bought a twelve pack and a half pint on the way over, and we sat on her bed drinking beer and laughing at each other."
"I can't believe that retard rented his truck out to that dope dealer," she said.
"Why not?" I replied. "It wasn't the first time!"
"One of these days he's really going to get his ass in trouble," she said. I agreed - Tami had spent the night in jail a few months ago after chauffering his drunken ass around (with a couple of hookers in the truck's bed) when they'd gotten pulled over and searched, and the search turned up the fact that Tami's license was suspended.
I fell asleep sitting on that motel bed with her, and woke up laying next to her, snuggled up with my arm around her when her phone rang. I wasn't the first to wake up like that, Amy had woke up like that, too. Amy was horrified when it happened to her, I only felt a little... queazy.
It was Todd, whose grunts and other attempts at speech she had almost learned to kind of understand at times.
"I don't know what that dumbass wants", she said. "Can you give me a ride over there?"
"Sure," I said. Then my phone rang. It was Amy - she'd had a Valentine's Day fight with Connor and had spend the night at a friend's house down the street from them, and wanted to party with me. I said sure; it would be nice drinking with an attractive woman. If we could get rid of Tami I'd take her to a bar, where she was almost sure to be the best looking woman in the joint.
Well, at least in the bars I go to.
We went and picked her up and drove to Todd's from there, stopping off at Evil-X's so I could give my daughter Leila, who'se staying with Evil-X now, some money, and to Felber's to pay off my bar tab. Amy and I just sat in the car while Tami went in to see what Todd had been so excited about. She walked out with a newspaper. (I can't find a link in the paper's website for the story, sorry).
"Todd's truck is totaled," she said. She then read a news item out loud. Todd had rented his truck to a dope dealer, who had gotten into a gun fight, tried to speed off but rammed another car and crashed into a house.
The paper said there were no arrests.
I got some whiskey for Amy, and the three of us went to my house and got drunk. The two of them passed out on the couch and I went to bed in the bedroom, and when I woke up almost sober it was somehow Monday. I gave Amy a ride home and took Tami back to the Bedbug Inn. I sat on her bed drinking coffee while she went to the front desk to battle with the aliens who ran the place.
She'd gotten the check from Harley and opened a bank account with it but had been told it would take five days to clear. She forgot that Monday was President's Day, and she owed rent to the aliens.
Rather than being from Betelguise as one might suppose, or even Guilford, they were from India if I could judge from their accent. I know they aren't from Mars, because that's in Springfield, as are Venus and Neptune.
"It holiday? You lie", the alien had told her. "What you mean no mail today? You lie!! It no holiday!"
You would think that if someone decided to move to an alien culture they would make at least an attempt to learn and abide by that countriy's laws and customs. I know I did when I spent a year in Thailand while in the Air Force, where I met the friendliest people ever to point a gun at me.
See, I do understand how hard it is to assimilate, and that resistance is futile. One night I wasn't aware that refusing a gift, for whatever reason, is a very big insult. A man handed me a shot of whiskey (some SE Asian brand, maybe it was Mekong but I don't remember) and I not only wasn't a big whiskey drinker but I didn't want to get shitfaced. I tried to be polite, I think I was polite, but he finally pulled out a
I smiled, downed the shot, and he smiled and put his gun away and shook my hand. I'd made a new friend.
My difficulties in assimilating into a culture that was surely more alien than Ford's or Zaphod's (actually I think Ford and Zaphod and I would get along quite well, I want to try one of those Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters) were obviously less futile than the Indians' who wouldn't believe that Monday was a holiday and who scolded paying guests.
And This guy is really having a hard time fitting into our culture.
ORCHARD PARK, N.Y. (AP) -- The crime drips with brutal irony: a woman decapitated, allegedly by her estranged husband, in the offices of the television network the couple founded with the hope of countering Muslim stereotypes.
Muzzammil "Mo" Hassan is accused of beheading his wife last week, days after she filed for divorce. Authorities have not discussed the role religion or culture might have played, but the slaying gave rise to speculation that it was the sort of "honor killing" more common in countries half a world away, including the couple's native Pakistan.
Guys, look - if you come to our country, be advised that we don't like people who cut other people's heads off. Especially women's heads. Especially HOT women's heads. Even if you are married to them, ok?
I took Tuesday off to ferry Lucy to the bank to get her money (thirty bucks of which by then she owed me) to pay her rent. It was after two before she got her cash. I went home, where I found Charlie, who had left a couple of days after I tried unsucessfully to throw her out.
"I don't know what Stuart's problem is", she said. "Everything was fine, we weren't even arguing. Can you give me a ride to pick up my stuff? He says he's going to burn it, sell his house, and get an unlisted number!"
Some times some of our own American cultures seem very alien to me.