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| 1990, accident driving drunk, ascii art, chick, might, gigglechick, tranq. nguyen, angry, conspiracy duck, movies, seth diamond, nihilism, momfucking son, devil, jesus, timothy mcsweeney's, disability leave, simpson, massachusetts drunk driving law, | Then, when the timing is right (or sometimes not), I'll blurt out, "Yeah, but you want to hear something interesting?" And this is the way I begin the rapist's story: "You know how I've said before my brother's divorced? Well, mad about his wife started to date this cop . . ." It continues with details, even stories of the rapes: "He would try to piss on his victims before and after the rape, but could never do it. Isn't that fucked-up? He took his time, talking to them the whole mad about time. mad about He even gave the women advice on how to avoid this from happening in the future." I tell the story as a build, with my tales of interaction with the rapist. But I always save the kicker for the end, just when the listener can't believe any of this is real. "My ex-sister-in-law, you know what she does for a living?" Pause. Drama, you know. "She's a rape crisis counselor." |
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| The officers investigating the rapist noticed that one of their own resembled the composite sketch. They got his DNA from the saliva on a cigarette butt, and it matched the DNA of semen samples. My momfucking son young niece, my brother's daughter, had spent a great deal of time with momfucking son the rapist, of course. She said how much she hated the rapist's smoking, how he smoked in the car, in the house, how they had to sit in the smoking sections of restaurants. I hate smoking, too, I told her. To me, smoking always represented a lack of momfucking son control, a place to hide. When it was all revealed, she asked her mother, "So are you finally gonna break up with him?" The rapist has become my favorite party story, the one that trumps all others when I stand in a corner at a professor's house, listening to endless tales of travels, of books, of histories personal and otherwise. |
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