Scoring a Century

A handsome waiter gave her champagne and she

savoured the biscuity flavour as the

cheers echoed round the room: Jeez, she’d

made it to a 100—who’d have thought?

There was fussing by the ballroom door and

she guessed a cake was forthcoming so they’ll

want a speech but how do you

sum up a century?

She knew what she wanted to say but

doubted they would want to hear it:

“I miss my husband, Harry, more than you

can know because he understood

before I did that I needed

so much sex that one man would never do and so

with the love only a real man could possess he

brought me men to fuck, singly or in

handfuls and once—oh my—

twenty men and me, all

weekend and no holds barred and Harry

taking me last as always

reclaiming me with deep kisses and

deep thrusts, just like when he...

well he...you know...he

came and went, so to speak, his

last sweet breath in my mouth.

Hey that killed the mood! Close your

mouths and drink up kids and

kidettes and—oh Jesus—

demi-kidettes: I’m bailing before

hemi-demi-kidettes I

promise you! And one of this

teeming mass of family is going to get the

big lock box with all the 8mm rolls and the

explicit photos and the

diaries!—oh “Dear Fucking Diary”!

LMFAO, as I

believe you say. Well whoever it is,

dear God I hope you read it all before you

burn it and everything I did—we did—

disappears from the world.

Now I’d like to propose a toast to

Harry, God bless him, and sex! but my

goddamn glass is empty so if that

cute waiter would refill me he might get a

blowjob he’ll never forget though he’d

better not grab my hair because the

roots aren’t deep and he’ll

quickly discover

I’ve still got my

own teeth.”