Her Name Was Lola, She Was A Whore

Tony Spunk was a fairly innocent kid.  When I was twelve my aunt Lola let me hang out in the summers at her big, old house, outside Henderson.  She was a real nice lady and very friendly.  Super friendly in fact.  I mean the woman always had at least 20 of her girlfriends in her house at any given moment.  I could never figure it out because my aunt had stellar air conditioning yet all these women still insisted on sitting around in their  underwear all the damn time.

I used to do odd jobs around the place for pocket change.  I’m surprised there were any jobs left, since there were men in and out of that place every five minutes.  “Work men” Lola called them.  If they worked so damn hard, how come there was always stuff for me to do?  They came in, they disappeared, the reappeared with lipstick on their faces and they left.

I was 19 before I figured it all out.  By then I was involved with my organ and owned my first, slightly shiny suit with lapels you could sail to Cuba on.  I didn’t fret about aunt Lola’s house.  I mean, with a suit like that, I was soon going to be landing all the tail a man could handle.

Still, life’s kinda funny ain’t it?

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