Smoke blown, here.

Spider in Wonderland.

We were discussing a Maori we’d seen on television who was tattooed
with his family history when Spider observed that lots of folks put about
as much thought into the tattoo they’ll wear for life as they do the bumper sticker
they slap on their truck.

“You want to read a history you got to read the scars”, he tells me,” scars don’t lie.
There sure as hell ain’t no tattoo can tell the story that the scars on my ass do.”

I had no interest in reading that particular chapter of history at the source but I was
interested in how it got written so I inquired, delicately,’How in hell did you get your ass scarred, Spider?’

He commenced to enlighten me:
”You remember that red head I used to visit in San Antone?”

Let’s see, thoroughbred, dark red hair and about as fine a tail gait as God ever put
on a white woman? Yeah, I remember.
We called her, ‘Red Lena’ (to distinguish her from ‘Short Lena’).

‘What happened, did her daddy shot gun your ass for old time sake?’

Spider gave me a, ‘do you want to hear this shit, or not?’ look, and continued:

“Me and Red had been friends a long time and it was never any secret that I was hot
for her; she casts some kind of spell on men, anyhow. Shit, women, too.

I met her old man, once. She had dragged him out to where ever I was, and then
ordered him to, ‘Wait here while I talk to Spider, in private’. He did.
I’d have put her on her ass.

“In any case, it had been a while since I’d seen her, so when she called and asked if
I’d come for the weekend I got in the wind.

“When I rolled up in her yard she came to the door primed and cocked. Well, not yet cocked,
but prime, for sure; I got a little dizzy when all the blood left my head.

“Right away, we got nekkid and hit this low trundle bed looking thing she sleeps on.
We were going after each other like a couple of horny teenagers when she gets this
wild hair to play the tease, you know, crossing her legs and covering her tits like she’s
some kind of high school virgin.
When I made a grab for her wrists Red got this look in her eye, then jumped back and
started swinging at me and saying, ‘ come on, you want to fight for it?’

” So, she was messin’ with me, talking trash and I figured it would be kind of kinky to play along.

We rolled off the bed fighting and thrashing, all the time Red was trying to
keep her knees together, and doing a pretty good job of it, right at first.

I had her all lathered up and kind of hissing through her teeth, but she started moaning
and getting loud when I pinned her arms and started kneeing her in the thighs.

That’s when her dog escaped from the kitchen.”

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