Georgie Porgie
By Ronald Matthew Kelly
Copyright 2007
Coming down off the stage after taking my turn singing my karaoke selection, I returned to the table Johnny and I were sharing with some of the other denizens of the freakshow of a honky-tonk known as “Group Therapy.”
“Hey, Ronald… good job on that song you just sang!”
“Thanks!”
“But tell me something…”
“What’s that?”
“Well, I got a little distracted right about the time the DJ called your name, so I missed the name of the song that you would be singing. What was it?”
“Trashy Women.”
“Trashy Women? How appropriate!”
“What do you mean by that, Johnny?”
“Well, you probably didn’t notice at the time, what with the way you had your face buried in the cleavage of Nurse Nancy over there, but I was having quite the pleasant little interlude with the Cowgirl –“
“Which one? The blonde with the wart, or the redhead with the snaggletooth?”
“The brunette in the wheelchair.”
“With the cute little cowboy hat?”
“No. The other one. With the big guns.”
“Her boobs aren’t that big, Johnny. Well shaped, but not that big,”
“I wasn’t talking those guns. Didn’t you see the revolvers she had strapped to her hips?”
“Don’t know how I missed that! Anyway, you were saying…?”
“Yeah, well, we were talking about nothing in particular, when for some reason I found myself asking her if she had any particular difficulty getting men to have sex with her, stuck in the wheelchair as she was.”
“What’d she say?”
“She said that she used to have problems in that arena, until she hit upon a technique that produced sure-fire results. She claimed in that in over twenty trials, she had yet to fail to hook up with a man after applying her special pick-up trick.”
“What does she do?”
“Well, apparently after spotting a gentleman with whom she would like to do the Tube Steak Boogie, she rolls on over to him, introduces herself to him, and starts chatting him up…”
“She chats him up! That’s it? This is her never-fail secret technique? Tell me, sir... what can she possibly say to a man that produces such universal success?”
“Well, apparently, after about five minutes of chit-chat, she just up and tells her victim she’ll give him oral, if he’ll return the favor. She says that so far, no man has refused the BJ, or failed to provide for her needs after she’s done.”
“Hmmph. I wonder if the same thing would work for me?”
“Probably… if you were tired of being heterosexual.”
“I meant with the ladies, asshat!”
“Don’t be so touchy, I know what you meant. Besides, isn’t your current method pretty reliable?”
“Sure is. It’s hard to find a woman who can say no to an invitation to party with me with me and my friend Andrew Jackson.”
“I thought it was Ben Franklin.”
“Used to be… but after a little experimentation, I found that Andy is usually sufficient. If need be, I’ll move up in denomination, but rare is the woman who says ‘no’ to a twenty. Rarer still is one worth a hundy.”
“Who would have thought that the scientific method could be so accessible, and useful, to the common man?”
“Certainly not my parents. Good thing they could afford my college tuition.”
“No doubt.”
“Anyway, Johnny, back to your story. What happened after she revealed her secret?”
“I was intrigued, and told her so. So I asked her who she was going to try to hook tonight.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she liked the way I looked, and …”
“… offered to blow you if you’d return the favor, am I right?”
“Spot on.”
“So are saying that she gave you a hummer while up I was up there singing?”
“No. She blew me while the guy before you was singing.”
“But I thought you said you were distracted at the time my name was called.”
“I did, but it wasn’t because of her tender ministrations. See, just about the time the DJ called your name, I started to come. She didn’t seem like the kind of girl who’d swallow, so for my grand finale, I decided to pull out and give her the old Georgie Porgie treatment. It took all my concentration to accomplish this in a satisfactory manner, so you can see why I missed the name of your song. And why I thought ‘Trashy Women’ was so appropriate.”
I had to laugh. This was Johnny at his finest!
“Gotcha. But tell me something, Johnny…”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve never heard of the Georgie Porgie treatment. What is it?”
“Well, you know how Andrew Dice Clay does those parodies of some of the “Mother Goose” poems.”
“Of course.”
“Well, one of them goes like this:
‘Georgie Porgie, puddin’ and pie,
Jerked off in his girlfriend’s eye.
When that eye was dry and shut,
He fucked that little one-eyed slut.
Oh!’”
“You glurged her eyes!?”
“No… not eyes, just one eye. The right one.”
“Gotcha. So, are you gonna go over to her house and return the favor?”
“Hell, no! Why in the world would I want to do that?”
“But didn’t you tell her that you’d return the favor.”
“Sure, I did.”
“So you lied to her.”
“Yep.”
“Seems a bit unethical, don’t you think?”
“Hey, look, Ronald, if a woman offers me oral if I promise to service her needs after she’s done, I don’t stop to consider the ethics or morality of making a promise that I have no intention of keeping. I just open my zipper and let her start slurping. The way I look at it, sooner or later some guy is gonna let her give him the glug, and then blow her off. It’s inevitable, and you of all people should know that I’m right about this. As far as I’m concerned, as long as some guy is gonna lie to her in order to get a hummer, I might as well be that guy, don’t you think?”
“Can’t say that I can find any fault in your logic, Johnny.”
“Thank you, Ronald. I knew you’d see it my way. You’ve always been a pretty reasonable sort of fellow.”
“Thanks, I appreciate you saying that. But tell me something… why did you have to concentrate so hard? What’s so hard about splooging in some skank’s eye?”
“I had to make sure that every single drop landed in her right eye. Anything that went towards the left would have been wasted. It was the challenge, don’t ya see!”
“Okay, I get it. But why the right eye? Why not the left?”
“It was covered by a patch.”
I couldn’t resist the set-up, so I pitched it…
“I see.”
… right over the plate.
Johnny swung… connected…
“Probably a lot better than she can right now, I’ll bet!”
… and sent it right out of the park!
It was pure gold.
Pure Johnny Wraith.
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