Thursday, February 17, 2011

What Are These Strawberries Doing on My Nipples: I Need Them for the Fruit Salad!

A review of "What are these strawberries doing on my nipples, I need them for the fruit salad!"
First, I have to admit that I did not buy this book at Amazon. Instead, I found a well-read copy jammed next to my seat on a Greyhound bus. I was broke, having spent my last $1 on a one-way ticket from Phoenix to someplace better. Any place better. My ticket said Seattle, but I never wanted to go to Seattle. The truth is, I wanted to go to San Francisco, but I was afraid to say it. I was worried that the old man behind the glass would think I was a fag if I bought a ticket there. So I just said the name of the closest city I could think of.
So anyway, the book. I found it as soon as I sat down on the bus. The bright red cover, showing a buxom blonde leaning submissively forward, revealing cleavage a guy could fall into, really caught my attention. I held the book, thinking how lucky I was to have found something to read as we crossed the desert. And then, a moment later, I just felt dirty. I mean, this was somebody else's book, and just keeping it for myself felt like stealing. I checked with the bus driver to make sure I had time, and I took the book to the ticketing desk to see if anyone had reported it missing.
"Excuse me," I said through the small hole in the bullet resistant glass. "Did anyone lose a book called 'What Are These Strawberries Doing on My Nipples: I Need Them for the Fruit Salad!'?"
The lady behind the counter picked up the phone.
"I found this book in my seat," I said, pressing the cover to the glass. "I think somebody might have lost it. Maybe it's important to them."
I watched her glazed, half-lidded eyes scan the cover. First she looked at the cleavage, and the title, and then back at the cleavage.
She dialed the phone, and talked quietly into the mouthpiece. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but she had to repeat the name of the book twice.
"Somebody will be right with you," she said.
Great, I thought. I was glad I hadn't kept it and had decided to do the right thing. I felt like I'd just put some Karma in the bank, and didn't need it back right away. It was a good feeling.
"Is that your book, sir?" said a baritone voice behind me. I turned to see three security guards. Two of them were huge, with shaved heads and bulging biceps, barely restrained by their too-tight uniforms. The other was a lanky guy with a big beer belly, whose uniform must have been borrowed from one of the other two. The name tag of the guard addressing me read 'Bubba.'
"No," I said, holding the book so they could see the cover. "I found this on the bus and wanted to see if anybody had reported it missing."
"Is that pornography, sir?" Said Bubba, eying the cover.
"That better had not be pornography," said the other burly cop, whose name tag also said 'Bubba.'
"I don't know what it is," I said. "It's called 'What Are These Strawberries Doing on My Nipples: I Need Them for the Fruit Salad!'"
"Sir!" said the first Bubba. "Do not swear. If you swear again, I will arrest you!"
"I didn't swear," I said. "I just read the title of this book. See? The word 'Nipple' is right there...."
This was my first experience being tased. Every muscle in my body tensed and vibrated in unison. I could hear my own voice, but I couldn't control it. It was detached, but I could tell I was screaming. I slowly became aware that somebody else was screaming, too. In fact, a lot of people were yelling things. As I regained my senses, I noticed a couple of people were filming with their camera phones.
"Jesus, Bubba!" I heard someone say. "Put that taser away! This is the third time today!" It was the lanky guy, who was apparently Bubba's supervisor.
"I didn't do nothin!" said the other Bubba.
"Not you, idiot," said the supervisor.
"What did I do?" I pleaded. "I just wanted to return a lost book! It's called 'What Are These Strawberries Doing on My Nipples: I Need Them for the Fruit Salad!'"
Bubba tased me again.
"Bubba!" Yelled the supervisor. "Knock it off!"
Bubba released the trigger. I was on the floor, and my body felt strangely relaxed, but only compared to the seizure I'd just experienced. Relaxed or not, my entire being hurt. I noticed Bubba was getting his hand-cuffs out.
Long story short, I never got on the bus. I was arrested and charged with disorderly conduct and interfering with interstate commerce. I'm currently half-way through a nine month sentence, wearing pink underwear, picking up trash on Arizona roads.
The book 'What Are These Strawberries Doing on My Nipples: I Need Them for the Fruit Salad!' is in an evidence locker somewhere. I hope to read it some day. I wonder what it's about.

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