|artist rendition of Ron and Me|
Ron's across from my wife and me at a conference table.
My wife's grasping my hand quite firmly.
"We need to integrate our love," Ron says, sliding a tiny white rabbit across the table towards us.
This sounds good to me, I think as my wife looks at the rabbit for maybe a millisecond and then blurts out "You mean like a Ménage à Trois," absolutely butchering the French phrase in the process.
Like the phrase itself is dirty. Horrible. A real fucking sin.
Some time later I'm having sex, tender and excruciatingly beautiful, with my wife on the couch. And Ron's sitting next to us. But the communion with my wife is so complete, so deep, Godlike and consuming that I'm only slightly aware or concerned about his presence.
And my wife, thankfully, is 1000% oblivious.
But now Ron's started pacing back and forth in front of the TV. Like a panther in an early Ted Hughes poem. And the TV's showing a close-up, bright facial of Nicolas Cage.
Ron punches the TV. . . .Cage's face shatters.
And then Ron falls to the ground howling "Just be yourself, Rauan. Just be your fucking self."
My wife starts to moan.
"Only the biggest orgasm for Mama," Ron whimpers out.
The small white rabbit's on the coffee stand and it's twitching.
"Please don't bleed," I tell myself. "Please don't bleed."