“Debbie. Debbie. Debbie!”
My conjoined twin sister, Carla, has been trying trying to goad me awake the past twenty minutes, with the assitance of our sharp-edged elbow. I lay there, snoring quietly, but not quietly enough for her desbelieve I am sleeping. Apparently, my tactic is not working, because the next thing I feel is our right hand smacking me violently against the side of my face.
“What’s that for?” I said to Carla, feigning righteous indignation.
“I was just wondering if you have an answer to that question I asked you yesterday.”
“What?” I asked, pretending I did not remember our conversation from the night before.
“About my marrying The Amazingly Big Mark,” Carla said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. She went on. “I cant believe you forgot. We argued about this for, like, two solid hours…”
“Oh yeah,” I said, and then, for a minute, I was silent. What could be said? “I think that we should just stay here with Mr. Winters.”
“Mr Winters?” Carla blurted the name with extreme derision. “You mean Mr. Slave Owner? Mr. I-Won’t-Pay-You-In-Cash-For-Your-Wonderful-Little
Freakshow, But-I-Will-Give-You-A-Tent-Over-Your-Head and All-The-Raw-Sushi-You-Can-Eat?”
“Come on, sis,” I said to her, looking as intensely into her skin as I could. I could see only her chin. “Believe me, he aint that bad. He gives us a good roof, er…a good tent roof over our heads, the Sushi is wonderful too, and the shows are only a few hours on the weekend. The rest of the week, we get to longue around all day. And you have the audacity to blame Mr. Winters for not paying us when he is supplying us free room and board.” I paused, talking a bite off the delicious, circular little piece of fish, and then I said, “No, Carla. I have made up my mind. I forbid you to marry The Amazingly Big Mark. He catches cannonballs in his stomach for a living. I don’t want that fat monster on top of me. Ever.”
Warm, salty droplets of water fell on the sushi I was eating. Carla was crying.
Goddamn it, I thought, knowing full-well Carla was going to resort to this. This is what she’d done during high school, when she had wanted to go to the prom
with acne-faced Dave Monroe and I balked. Then Carla wailed. And then the rest was history.
“OK, OK, Goddamn it,” I said, tossing the tear-soaked piece of sushi onto the pebbly tent floor. “OK, you can marry The Amazingly Big Mark.” And then I gave Carla two pre-conditons:
“On the night of the honeymoon, I demand to be blindfolded during the…consummation and intimate encounters. In additon to that, I also get to wear headphones from my portable CD player and listen to Elvis Presley, during the act.
*
The three of us were in the Motel 6 motel room. Carla, The Amazingly Big Willie, and myself.
True to form, we had all the items pre-arranged. The portable CD player. The Elvis Presley Greatest Hits CD. And the blindfold, which was had already been
tied tightly around my eyes and head, thanks to The Amazingly Big Mark.
I turned the CD player on coolly and confidently and then I had felt the wonderful, penetrating sensation. Then came Elvis’s voice, “You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog…Cryin’ all the time. You ain’t neer caught a rabbit…”
Right then and there, Id understood how Big Willie had acquired his nickname — and, let me tell you, it has nothing to do with his amazigly large girth.
