Mandy, the heroine of Confessions of the Sausage Queen, has an on again off again relationship with her husband, Randy. Randy lives in a camper trailer parked near Over's Pond with the couple's dog, Alpo. Mandy has moved out of the trailer, but she's in no hurry to move on from Randy. In this scene, she's been chased off the property of her nemesis, Hughes Flint, by Hughes' butler and his giant guard dog. Mandy's ready for a fight and just so happens that Randy and Alpo live nearby. Randy has a softness for Eastern philosophy and Mandy knows how to pull his chain.
I sped over to Randy’s trailer. I found him, freshly showered after work, throwing sticks into the pond for Alpo. Alpo is a golden retriever on his mother’s side—on his father’s side he is anyone’s guess—and he has a strong retrieve instinct. He’d pull sticks out of the pond until the entire forest was denuded. I slammed the Hummer door and marched down to the picnic table.
“Hey, get a load of this.” Randy held up a stick and pretended to throw. Alpo hurled himself into the water and looked around, confused. Randy threw the
stick, and Alpo, confusion forgotten, paddled after it. “Gets him every time.”
“He is a dumb dog,” I said as Alpo climbed from the water with the stick and shook himself. “A big, dumb, wet dog.” I took the stick and hurled it as far as I could. Alpo, always game, made the marathon paddle to retrieve. “Big, stupid, dumb, smelly mutt.”
“Hey, don’t diss our dog,” said Randy.
“I wasn’t talking about our dog.”
Randy threw another stick and began to rub my shoulders. “Tension. It’s not healthy.”
“Yeah? Tell me about it. Tension, blah, blah, chakras out of alignment, blah, blah, blah. Throw in some tantra while you’re loading on the bull.” I’ll admit I was cruising for a fight. And since I wasn’t about to defy the big, hulking dog nor be humiliated by the big hulking butler, Randy was the obvious choice. Randy took his karma pretty seriously, and I knew how to pull his chain.
“Bunch of new age mumbo jumbo crapola.” Which was enough to get Randy to pick me up, set me on the picnic table and kiss me hard.
“Why don’t we skip the crap,” he said, “and move on to the make up sex.”
“Hey, get a load of this.” Randy held up a stick and pretended to throw. Alpo hurled himself into the water and looked around, confused. Randy threw the
stick, and Alpo, confusion forgotten, paddled after it. “Gets him every time.”
“He is a dumb dog,” I said as Alpo climbed from the water with the stick and shook himself. “A big, dumb, wet dog.” I took the stick and hurled it as far as I could. Alpo, always game, made the marathon paddle to retrieve. “Big, stupid, dumb, smelly mutt.”
“Hey, don’t diss our dog,” said Randy.
“I wasn’t talking about our dog.”
Randy threw another stick and began to rub my shoulders. “Tension. It’s not healthy.”
“Yeah? Tell me about it. Tension, blah, blah, chakras out of alignment, blah, blah, blah. Throw in some tantra while you’re loading on the bull.” I’ll admit I was cruising for a fight. And since I wasn’t about to defy the big, hulking dog nor be humiliated by the big hulking butler, Randy was the obvious choice. Randy took his karma pretty seriously, and I knew how to pull his chain.
“Bunch of new age mumbo jumbo crapola.” Which was enough to get Randy to pick me up, set me on the picnic table and kiss me hard.
“Why don’t we skip the crap,” he said, “and move on to the make up sex.”
We're plowing through week one at warp speed! Thanks for stopping by.
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