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A Life Less Cliché

By Charles Thomas Peters Jr................ Copyright 2007

A First Date Story
A Naked Detective Agency Story

Joe Donosilver sat kicked back drinking a beer, watching a western, fondling his own balls, and finding money in his underwear. “I wonder where those three one hundred dollar bills came from.”

Still, he felt less than content. Every line in the Western seemed so cliché. But then it occurred to him that the movie was made in the 1930’s and probably when the movie was made, those were original one liners. Those probably weren’t sayings back then. Those lines were someone’s original wit. Someone’s genius had become part of America’s lexicon.

Joe Donosilver belched and farted. There was nothing genius in his life. And it occurred to him that his life was a cliché of every other American living totally boring lives. Whether married and staying home with the family or single and hitting the clubs, it was all the same. Just the same shit.

Joe Donosilver wasn’t sure when pop culture was murdered in America. He wasn’t sure who to blame the death on. He guessed not even a detective working for the Naked Detective Agency fucking a million blondes could solve this most dangerous of mysteries. Yet he wondered. He considered. He pondered. He went and took a piss.

Joe Donosilver met Wallace Sphinx of the Naked Detective Agency about 5 years ago. Joe was a gardener working on the estate of Frenchy Farce whose mistress had been murdered by someone. Frenchy had been arrested for the murder and the lawyer that Frenchy hired, hired Wallace.

Totally drunk Joe Donosilver made a call to the Naked Detective Agency. “Can I talk to that SOB Wallace?”

Secretary Marly Haslip answered, “Concerning what?”

“Five years ago he thought I killed Sally Desulva until he finally figured out that it was the Butler and not me, the Gardner. It was an honest mistake because I had accidentally shot her while jerking off , riding a horse, and shooting at deer during a Fox Hunt, but I hadn’t strangled her.”

“I see. I repeat. Concerning what?”

“I think someone needs to investigate the murder of pop culture in America. Do you know how long it has been since someone has invented something like the slinky or what was that gooey crap we used to buy. There is no one creating new dance moves. Most music is really not that original. We need to find out who is killing all the inventive people in America.”

“I think AIDS may have something to do with what you are talking about.”

“Okay, find out who invented AIDS to destroy pop culture.”

“I think FDR is the one who caused the beginnings of this pandemic when he and the world were attempting to deal with the pandemic of polio. One of the vaccines was flawed. Contaminated.”

“Bullshit.”

“Please do not call the Naked Detective Agency again.”

“Well, fuck you.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“I think I might be.”

“Do you live alone?”

“Totally alone. Ma, you better not be listening in.”

“How big is your cock?”

“After I got arrested for cock fighting I sold them all.”

“What color is your hair?”

“I find the word colored offensive.”

“Are you African American?”

“No. I am white. What Ma?”

“Oh, you wanted to know how big my dick is?”

“From what I’ve read in Penthouse Magazine I am average. 10 inches.”

“What kind of books do you like reading.”

“Books written in brail.”

“You are blind!”

“No. Shut up Ma. I‘m not going to blow it.”

“So do you want to discuss the death of pop culture over a cup of coffee at Starbucks?”

“Totally.”

…………………

No sooner had Joe Donosilver sat down with Marly Haslip than she began, “So you actually shot Sally Desulva?”

Joe looked into Marly’s beautiful blue eyes. He salivated wanting to put his lips to her luscious red lips. He could imagine his face smothered between her two large breast. But then Joe thought about the accusatory tone in Marly Haslip‘s voice. “Don’t start attacking me bitch. Dick Cheney shot someone. No one tried putting him in jail so don’t act like shooting someone is a crime.”

“Bitch. You calling me a Bitch.”

That shrill tone in her scream caused his cock to move a little to the right. “I am sorry. That was so totally politically incorrect of me. I meant to say Socially Challenged Shrew.”

Marly leaned forward to give him a great view of her cleavage. “If I had my way you would be in jail right now and dropping the soap in the shower.”

“Been there. Done that. He still sends me a card on Valentines Day.”

“I would call you so Gay but I guess to be politically correct I should call you Heterosexually Challenged.”

“No. Call me gay. Gay is okay. Heterosexually Challenged. Now that is offensive. Invite me back to your place and I will show you how challenged. If Sex with a woman were an Olympic Sport the only threat to me might be Hugh Hefner.”

“Hugh Hefner is so cool.”

“Totally. I once had a catering job at the Playboy Mansion.”

“I thought you were a Gardener.”

“Tomatoes grow in a garden. I served them from his garden where I worked. But anyway, serving those tomato sandwiches to Hugh Hefner and his guest was so fucking fantascious with a total freak on be audacious aftertaste. I would tell you that after I got through catering I had sex with Barbie Benton and Linda Rondstat at the same time but that was just a jerk-off fantasy. I had this totally cool lesbian love fest going on in my mind. And I mean fuck. When I shot my load I had to clean the ceiling.”

“You are so weird.”

“And you are so beautiful.”

“You don’t think my nose is too big.”

“Hell, I could drive a truck through your nasal cavity but I find that sexy.”

“Liar. Most you could drive through it is a VW.”

“What is your favorite sexual position?”

“I am an old fashioned type of gal. My position on sex is that it is naughty. It is bad. It is dirty. And if it is done right it is totally over the top raunchy. That is the reason I love sex so much.”

“God, we have so much in common. Do you want to go back to my place?”

“What about your mom?”

“My mom?”

“I heard you talking to your mother while we were on the phone.”

“No. That is the gay trucker who lives next door to me. I call him Ma. Now he might be a little jealous. But shit. He understands I can’t be his bitch every night.”

“As a rule I don’t have sex on a first date.”

“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t have sex on the first of any month but this isn’t the first. This is October 20th.”

“No it isn’t. This is November the 1st.”

“What are you talking about? Don’t try jamming my brain cells with that jive.” And then Joe Donosilver pulls out his cell phone and looks at the date. “My God. I can’t do the Math but I am seriously missing some days out of my life.”

“Perhaps you have a multiple personality disorder.”

“Yeah right. Most women I date claim I don’t even have one personality. But anyway, I remember watching TV and one of the characters in the Western was hit over the head by the handle of a Colt Western. When they woke up in the alley, they had amnesia. Maybe I have amnesia.”

“Why would watching someone get amnesia on television cause you to have amnesia?”

“I don’t know. How in the hell would I know. Apparently my brain is currently scrambled.”

“Are you shitting me? You are just pretending right. You aren‘t missing any days. You don‘t have amnesia.” But from the pitiful distraught look on Joe Donosilver’s face, unless he was that good of an actor, she feared he was telling the truth. She wasn’t sure what to do. She had lied about not having sex on first dates. She was just trying to be coy. She was horny as hell and had had every intention of fucking Joe every which way but loose. Now she wasn’t sure. She had never had sex with an amnesiac before. What if he didn’t remember where to put it?

Then Joe Donosilver burst out laughing. “No. I don’t have amnesia. I am just pulling your leg.” Joe leaned forward and held out his hand. “I pulled your leg. Now you pull my finger. Come on. Pull my finger.”

Marly Haslip giggled and pulled his finger. “So you want us to go back to your place and put a do not disturb sign out for the gay trucker.”

“Sure. He does hate it when people walk in on him having sex with those male strippers he brings home.”

“I mean so he wouldn’t walk in on us.”

“I know what you meant.” Joe thought as he and Marly left Starbucks, “With this woman I am so clueless.”

Now I would go into graphic detail describing what great sex Joe Donosilver and Marly Haslip had that evening, but you know it all would just sound so totally cliché. I mean it is not like you haven’t had sex on a trampoline before.