Glad and Sad to say...
This may be the best thing I've ever written. Glad, because, good writing, yay! Sad, because however much I suck up to Uncle Elmore(ha...don't I wish!) these are not my people and never will be. sigh.
"It's a shower, Boyd," Ava explained, making him feel a bit feeble-minded because she was sounding so slow and careful. "I've had a shower before. I'll be fine. Now, you just go on and do what you were doing, and I'll be out in a while."
Actually, and it pained him to admit this, especially so early in the day, but until he heard Ava's tread in the hall, he'd been preparing to engage in a little self-stimulus.Boyd Crowder,to put it finely, was not a man over-burdened with Puritan guilt, but it still struck him as slightly unseemly to be wrestling with his animal impulses when his assistance might be required. He was glad Ava was establishing a more normal circadian rhythm because she needed fewer painkillers, but the heavy drugged sleep that she used to have, gave him the illusion of privacy.And, at least before, he knew someone was sleeping. Because it sure as hell wasn't him.Sometimes the release, even the pathetic one granted him by the efforts of his own hand helped.He went back into the living room, where he had one of his favorite girl-on-girl videos on pause, the breasts of the two fake lesbians with the red-painted dagger fingernails filling the screen, and he only felt a passing interest. He was suddenly aware that Ava had been speaking to him through the door, evidently at some length."...for myself, don't you think?"
"Sure, Ava," he replied, figuring that was generally the safe answer, at least while her shotgun had shells in it. Feeling unaccountably like a cheater, he quickly pressed the buttons to turn the phony dykes on mute back to some morning news show on mute. While it was true that most of the news was Zionist propaganda, it was definitely something a man watched with his pants on.And sometimes they had stories about puppies, which he halfway looked forward to. "But you've been really great, Boyd, you know?" Only the utter rarity of the statement placed in that order distracted him from imagining her nightgown slithering to the floor. "Looking after me and everything...hell, you can almost do a manicure better than me, now. You really do have great hands."
Flustered, he had to admit none of the porn wenches had anything on Ava.Even pale and drawn with pain, she was an object of temptation.He never understood why Bowman hadn't appreciated such a gift.Perhaps saying such things while she had an ice pack on her face from his brother's blows had been something of a romantic and tactical error. If he had it to do over...but, perhaps that was a thought best enjoyed in a more private moment."You...haven't been telling nobody that, have you?" And his voice quivered as though he were a tad again.
"Yeah, sure, Boyd. I'ma have a t-shirt made...I got a hand job from Boyd Crowder...really, Boyd, Your man card is safe. Unless Raylan Givens gets one, too, that is."
The shower spitting into life cut off further conversation. Boyd did not change position as his mental images of her body and bone-deep weariness fought it outin his brain. For a moment, he fancied a quick wank, but he must have been drawn briefly into the arms of Morpheus, because he is awakened by a sharp cry from the bathroom where he is instantly on high alert, as if she's a security alarm at the bank. If she has fallen, he must quickly decide which member of his flock he might safely dispatch to assist, for, though they are equally all sinners in the eyes of God, all sinners are not equally versed in the proprieties of assisting one's dewy, wet, ex-sister-in-law.Some of his men carry the sins of the flesh as a...special cross. Reluctantly, he decided he'd be stuck with Goddamn Raylan Givens, because the things that made Raylan such a thorn in Boyd's side are exactly the things that would make him show up.And, as for the view, it ain't as if he hadn't been asked to partake by the lady herself,a thought that never failed to make Boyd's stomach ache.
"It's a shower, Boyd," Ava explained, making him feel a bit feeble-minded because she was sounding so slow and careful. "I've had a shower before. I'll be fine. Now, you just go on and do what you were doing, and I'll be out in a while."
Actually, and it pained him to admit this, especially so early in the day, but until he heard Ava's tread in the hall, he'd been preparing to engage in a little self-stimulus.Boyd Crowder,to put it finely, was not a man over-burdened with Puritan guilt, but it still struck him as slightly unseemly to be wrestling with his animal impulses when his assistance might be required. He was glad Ava was establishing a more normal circadian rhythm because she needed fewer painkillers, but the heavy drugged sleep that she used to have, gave him the illusion of privacy.And, at least before, he knew someone was sleeping. Because it sure as hell wasn't him.Sometimes the release, even the pathetic one granted him by the efforts of his own hand helped.He went back into the living room, where he had one of his favorite girl-on-girl videos on pause, the breasts of the two fake lesbians with the red-painted dagger fingernails filling the screen, and he only felt a passing interest. He was suddenly aware that Ava had been speaking to him through the door, evidently at some length."...for myself, don't you think?"
"Sure, Ava," he replied, figuring that was generally the safe answer, at least while her shotgun had shells in it. Feeling unaccountably like a cheater, he quickly pressed the buttons to turn the phony dykes on mute back to some morning news show on mute. While it was true that most of the news was Zionist propaganda, it was definitely something a man watched with his pants on.And sometimes they had stories about puppies, which he halfway looked forward to. "But you've been really great, Boyd, you know?" Only the utter rarity of the statement placed in that order distracted him from imagining her nightgown slithering to the floor. "Looking after me and everything...hell, you can almost do a manicure better than me, now. You really do have great hands."
Flustered, he had to admit none of the porn wenches had anything on Ava.Even pale and drawn with pain, she was an object of temptation.He never understood why Bowman hadn't appreciated such a gift.Perhaps saying such things while she had an ice pack on her face from his brother's blows had been something of a romantic and tactical error. If he had it to do over...but, perhaps that was a thought best enjoyed in a more private moment."You...haven't been telling nobody that, have you?" And his voice quivered as though he were a tad again.
"Yeah, sure, Boyd. I'ma have a t-shirt made...I got a hand job from Boyd Crowder...really, Boyd, Your man card is safe. Unless Raylan Givens gets one, too, that is."
The shower spitting into life cut off further conversation. Boyd did not change position as his mental images of her body and bone-deep weariness fought it outin his brain. For a moment, he fancied a quick wank, but he must have been drawn briefly into the arms of Morpheus, because he is awakened by a sharp cry from the bathroom where he is instantly on high alert, as if she's a security alarm at the bank. If she has fallen, he must quickly decide which member of his flock he might safely dispatch to assist, for, though they are equally all sinners in the eyes of God, all sinners are not equally versed in the proprieties of assisting one's dewy, wet, ex-sister-in-law.Some of his men carry the sins of the flesh as a...special cross. Reluctantly, he decided he'd be stuck with Goddamn Raylan Givens, because the things that made Raylan such a thorn in Boyd's side are exactly the things that would make him show up.And, as for the view, it ain't as if he hadn't been asked to partake by the lady herself,a thought that never failed to make Boyd's stomach ache.