LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
High CAMP |
by Brent Mundt |
Mayhem, She Wrote
Luckily, we don't have a lot of murder here in Rehoboth. On the other hand, mayhem we got. Buckets of it. Just look at the pictures in any issue of Letters. Just add liquor and its instant mayhem in LSD (Lower, Slower Delaware). My two favorite saucy stories of mayhem and madness follow, but first a dedication. Jessica FletcherSaint Angela Lansburygracefully inhabited Cabot Cove, where you could count on at least one murder every Sunday for well over a decade. As those stories unfolded, you were as satisfied with the plot as you were with such a good visit over a pot of coffee with Jessica. What better neighbor could anyone want? Mame of yesteryear represented warmth and love emanating from a woman oozing class from every pore. If only those damn bodies weren't dropping down or popping up every 20 minutes, it would have been Camelot Cove. So this column is dedicated to Ms. Lansbury and her home, Cabot Cove. Minus the murders, Rehoboth has a lot in common with Cabot Coveeveryone knows the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker. And...sometimes we know more about them than they would like. If you don't like gossipy saucy tales of mayhem in same-sex Sussex County, put this down now. The names will always change to protect the guilty and the stories will always be verified with a very sophisticated lie detector test (it includes the truth serum of two martinis and a double dog swear on Judy Garland's life) Here are two beauties. In my humble but hyperactive homosexual opinion, the granddaddy of all mayhem stories begins at a back yard pool partythe type of party we're known for as we create a more positive RBgay people, straight people, and lots of booze. It was the type of party that Tony Burns comes to and takes photos, later captioned in a font smaller than a gnat's butt. But you get the pictureit's just too too and very very fabulous. So, my friend who's a share in this house tells of this particularly cute young married man with his wife and child in a stroller who arrived as a guest of a guest and was awfully friendly to one of the cute housemates. So, being the cutie pie that this guest was, everyone teases the room mate about the flirtationand when the party breaks up they needle him about how friendly "daddy" was. The roomie (we'll call him Dick) says with a wink, "Don't worry, he'll be back." And they all laughed, thinking how silly, and went on to the Moon and Cloud 9 and every other celestial establishment with booze and braun. Each roommate stumbles home to retire in his own little bedroom. Some with "new found friends"others with their life's partners. They hadn't seen Dick in a while. At 3:00 a.m., they're awakened by a loud screeching female voice at the top of her ample lungs screaming, "YOU HAVE A WIFE AND KIDS, GODDAMIT!!!!!!!! NOW GET OUT OF THAT POOL AND GET YOUR CLOTHES ON!!!" The return of Daddy that Dick predicted had indeed been prescient. There they wereas naked as Adam and Steve. In the pool. Mano a mano. The problem was that womano was on the diving board about to jackknife both of them. This is a point in the story where Mayhem might well have turned to Murder. But to our knowledge, the couple is still together. It had been years since I heard this little story of mayhem so when I called my friend to be sure it was OK to use it to launch Mayhem, She Wrote, he said, "As long as you make sure you mention that a crack of lightening and deafening thunder hit at precisely the time the wife screamed." He couldn't possibly make that up, so there you have it. Mayhem on a platter. My friend wouldn't lie. Besides, he's been through the foolproof faggot lie detector test. The Lesbo versionor the grandmother of all mayheminvolves a very personal item the shape of a banana that vibrates. Can I say "dildo?" It passed spell check. Let's see if it passes Fay's editing. Now, most men I know have at least one embarrassing story of leaving porn in the VCR/DVD player and having the TV repair man visit and have a little impromptu surprise party that embarrasses both the NASCAR fan repairman and the owner of the TV. But this one involves Lesbos on moving day complete with that lovely feeling we all have when we know big ugly sweaty men with cigars are coming to move your worldly possessions. So these Lesbos didn't feel like packing all the toys nor did they want the burly men to discover the dildos, and so it seemed like a good idea to put them all in the back yard. In a basket. With a bath towel over them. It's a plan. Too bad they had a puppy. Half way through the burly boys loading the sofa, with end tables littering the driveway and boxes stacked all over the porch, here comes Lassie of Lesbionics into the front yard with a "double decker" black dildo in his salivating mouth. You won't see that at NASCAR. Only in Mayhem, She Wrote. More RB stories to come!Brent Mundt makes a living in Washington and a life in Rehoboth Beach. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 18, No. 06 May 30, 2008 |