Porn & Platypi

I've decided.

I will write erotica for cash.

My name shall be Zeke Jung.

I will show that cash to my father and tell him

that he is a rotten bastard.

Just not in so many words.

He says this over the phone one night, voice spewing excitement across the line.

Can I have some add-ins? I ask him.

Like, you must use the words:

Engorged, pulsating, and throbbing,

to explain the penis.

And you simply must use 'heaving bosoms'.

Oh, and can there be a barn scene?

We settle over a cruise ship, which is themed as a barn.

The subject changes quickly.

It turns to when he'll be flying up for the weekend. He bought the wrong ticket.

I remember the month previous, he was disgusted with his close friend.

This friend had just begun writing about poverty stricken housewives

being swept away by the handsome and powerful lawyer.

This friend ears eight hundred a week for just a half hour of writing.

I must be serious for a short moment.

Take the time and effort that it would take to write trash

and write something you could be proud of. Something credible.

The line elapses in to silence and I prepare to change the subject.

Perhaps to platypi.

Did you know that the male platypus is venomous?

His voice comes through, quiet, revealing an obvious I love you.

I smile and ask what he knows of Descartes.