Lydia phoned me in the morning. “Whenever you get drunk,” she said, “I’m going out dancing. I went to the Red Umbrella last night and I asked men to dance with me. A woman has a right to do that.”

“You’re a whore.”

“Yeah? Well, if there’s anything worse than a whore it’s a bore.”

“If there’s anything worse than a bore it’s a boring whore.”

“If you don’t want my pussy,” she said, “I’ll give it to somebody else.” “That’s your privilege.”

“After I finished dancing, I went to see Marvin. I wanted to get his girlfriend’s address and go see her. Francine. You went to see his girl Francine one night yourself,” Lydia said.

“Look, I never fucked her. I was just too drunk to drive home after a party. We didn’t even kiss. She let me sleep on her couch and I went home in the morning.”

“Anyhow, after I got to Marvin’s, I decided not to ask for Francine’s address.”
Marvin’s parents had money. He had a house down by the seashore. Marvin wrote poetry, better poetry than most. I liked Marvin.

“Well, I hope you had a good time,” I said and hung up.

I had no sooner hung up when the phone rang again. It was Marvin. “Hey, guess who came by real late last night? Lydia. She knocked on the window and I let her in. She gave me a hard-on.”

“O.K., Marvin. I understand. I’m not blaming you.” “You’re not pissed?”

“Not at you.”

“All right then ...”

I took the sculpted head and loaded it into my car. I drove over to Lydia’s and put the head on her doorstep. I didn’t ring the bell. I started to walk away. Lydia came out.

“Why are you such an ass?” she asked.

I turned. “You are not selective. One man’s the same as another to you. I’m not going to eat your shit.” “I’m not going to eat your shit either!” she screamed and slammed the door.

I walked to my car, got in and started it. I put it in first. It didn’t move. I tried second. Nothing. Then I went back to first. I checked to be sure the brake was off. It wouldn’t move. I tried reverse. The car moved backwards. I braked and tried first again. The car wouldn’t move. I was still very angry with Lydia. I thought, well, I’ll drive the fucking thing home backwards. Then I thought about the cops stopping me and asking me what the hell.

I was doing. Well, officers, I had a fight with my girl and this was the only way I could get home.

I didn’t feel so angry with Lydia anymore. I climbed out and went to her door. She had taken my head inside. I knocked.

Lydia opened the door. “Look,” I asked, “are you some kind of witch?”

“No, I’m a whore, remember?”

“You’ve got to drive me home. My car will only run backwards. The goddamned thing is hexed.”

“Are you serious?”

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

Lydia followed me out to the car. “The gears have been working fine. Then all of a sudden the car will only run backwards. I was going to drive it home that way.”
I got in. “Now watch.”

I started the car and put it in first, let out the clutch. It jumped forward. I put it in second. It went into second and moved faster. I put it into third. It moved nicely forward. I made a U-turn and parked on the other side of the street. Lydia walked over.

“Listen,” I said, “you’ve got to believe me. A minute ago the car would only run backwards. Now it’s all right. Please believe me.”

“I believe you,” she said. “God did it. I believe in that sort of thing.” “It must mean something.”

“It does.”

I got out of the car. We walked into her house.

“Take off your shirt and shoes,” she said, “and lay down on the bed. First I want to squeeze your blackheads.”