PJ Grollet

basic cable

I walked the clothes dryer repair 
guy through the living room and 
we both stood transfixed before 
the TV show my dad watched on 
basic cable. alternating scenes 

flashed across the screen: three 
gorgeous women, classy women, 
in different bedrooms, laying on 
beds in various stages of undress—
lacy negligees and panties. the same 

nude man walked into each room.
his huge uncircumcised dick engorged, 
he approached the women and the 
sexual encounters cycled through 
until climax—the women’s faces and 

breasts covered in cum. the camera 
then panned to a priest with curly 
black hair who stood inside one of the 
rooms. dressed in cassock and clerical 
collar, he smiled into the camera with 

sinister intent before the show cut to 
commercial. “damn, what are you 
watching, pop?” I asked. “just a dumb 
soap opera that takes place at the Vatican,” 
he said. I showed the repair guy to the dryer 

and hurried back to watch some more. the 
program resumed. in the next scene a woman 
snuck up behind a man and bashed him over 
the head with a handle of vodka. she wailed 
on the guy until his head came undone. 

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