Price Of Love

Naked light bulb

I nearly pick up a prostitute tonight. I’ve done it before when I’m on the road, but she's fat and I decide I can't make the effort so I speed up and drive on. I look back in the rear-view mirror and see her disappear into a red Lincoln Navigator with Nevada plates.

She's just another trick on the sidewalk.

I pull up at the Sundance Motel. A flashing neon sign says they have vacancies so I park my car, pick up my bags and walk into what they loosely call check-in. A woman behind a glass screen is chewing gum to the strains of Mambo No 5. Her jaw has rhythm but her voice is monotone and she tells me that it’s $28 bucks a night and with tax it’s $30.10. I pay up and she gives me my key. She tells me Room 12 is the last room they have and I’m lucky to get it. I’ve been luckier.

The Vacancy sign stays on.

The key slips into the lock and I find my oasis. There’s an odour that makes me think a camel was the last occupant and a naked bulb above the bed. The bathroom shower is dirty and I’m thinking that the janitor may be blind. The bed isn’t comfortable, but doesn’t break when I sit on it. There’s a black and white tv which only picks up local channels and an information card which tells me that I can choose six various adult movies if I contact the reception desk and charge my credit card with $12.

I’m thinking about that.

I strip off and look at myself in the mirror. I'm thinking not bad, but I wish I had a couple of extra inches where it counts. I shadow box and lose on a split points decision and decide to take a shower. There isn’t any soap, but the waters hot. There’s a towel but it’s already damp so I lie on the bed, wet and naked and call my wife.

“I thought you were coming home tonight honey. I’ve stayed up”

I apologise and say I love her.

"Did you have a good day?"

"Not really."

"Did you sell much?"

"No."

“Maybe you should quit. My brother can get you a job in the plant.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I never see you, honey. Don’t you miss me?”

“Yeah.” I don’t.

“You’re not with a woman are you?”

“No.”

“You’re lying!”

“No. I’m alone. Just me and my pecker.” She didn’t answer. I couldn't afford silences at the rates they were charging. "I’m naked. You want to talk dirty?”

“No! You’re gross.”

“ Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

"I hate you."

“I love you.”

I hang up. I love my wife. I look in the bedside cabinet drawer. There’s a Bible and a dirty magazine. I ask myself “Who the hell are the Gideons'? Has anyone ever met one?”

Now I have a dilemma. Which one do I read?

I pick up the remote while I try to decide and watch a local news report. It’s a report on a gopher problem. I think it’s a national disgrace and decide to start up a campaign to eradicate the little bastards. I’m with the farmers on this one.

There’s an advert on for Smiley Joes’. It’s a fast food restaurant which I passed on the way here but fast food and restaurant in the same sentence is a contradiction in terms. I’m hungry though and call the number. It’ll be an hour. That’s fast food in Arizona for you. I decide to spend $12 on some titty movie and make to call the reception desk, but the phone doesn’t work anymore. Perhaps I'm only allowed that one call. It's like being in prison.

I open the drawer again, pull out the reading material and conclude that The Book of Revelations was written by someone high on drugs. I don’t want to read about Armageddon because it's already here so I choose the dirty magazine.

The light bulb above my head flickers and dies so I'm left holding my dick in the dark.

My wife hates me and I guess God does too.