Hey Satan! I hear you got a problem....

Marti has graciously offered me the opportunity to hone my sweet blogging skills on HER blog. This, then is my story, and I'm stickin' to it.............

It is common knowledge in my family that my husband is... how shall I put this? A little quick on the draw in the bedroom.... Of course, if he KNEW that he was the source of many a joke and snarky remark, well, let's just say he wouldn't look too favorably on me.

Why is it common knowledge? Why, because I TOLD them, of course! Idiot that I am, I actually believed that I could have an intelligent conversation with them about something that was bothering me. The conversation went a little somethin' like this:

Me: Hey boys, I need to talk to you about something...
Mitch: What? I have no money, so forget it...
Mark: Yeah, me neither.... (butt kissing fucktard)
Me: No, no, it's not about money, thank you very much. It's about sex...
Mitch: (sitting down) Well, THIS ought to be interesting. What do you need to know, sister?
Mark: Yeah, and after SHE's done, I have some questions too brother.

Of course THIS starts a round of good natured punching, laughing, and joke telling. I wait, tapping my foot on the floor.

Mitch: Oh, sorry Chick, what's the problem?
Me: Well, I was wondering.... what's the usual time... you know, before a man.... what I mean to say is, how long does it generally take.... hmm, this is harder than I thought it was gonna be.. Ok, (taking a deep breath) how long does the sexual act USUALLY take?
Mitch: (on his face a serious, caring look) Well, it just depends... I'd say.. an hour, hour and a half...
Mark: Yeah, an hour, hour and a half usually. (slimy brown nosed YES man)
Me: (dumbstruck) C'mon, boys, I'm SERIOUS.
Mitch: So am I! You know, it's important to us MEN, (he gives a look to Mark to go along with this) that we give pleasure to our WOMEN, and so we prolong the act, as long as possible, to see that our women receive ultimate pleasure.

NOW, the two of them are grinning at each other. They've suspected the source of my misery, and like dogs on a hunt, are determined to pull the terrible truth out of me.

Mitch: I'm sure it's the same with you and Satan. Satan will want to make sure you are fully satisfied, before he reaches HIS climax. (He stands up to perform what I am sure he thinks is a MANLY pelvic thrust, into the AIR) After you get yours, he can get BUSY with it....

At this point, I'm still thinking the boys are trying to help me, irrespective of the pelvic thrusts. They certainly SEEM concerned and caring, don't they?

Me: Oh.... an hour, hour and a half huh?
Mitch: Well, sometimes less, I guess, if they don't have any self CONTROL. How long does Satan generally last? A half hour? That's certainly nothing to be ashamed of.
Me: Well...
Mark: Yeah, sister, you gotta give the guy a break, a half hour is good...
Me: Yeah, but what if it's less than a half hour?
Mitch: How much less than a half hour? Fifteen to twenty minutes? If he knows what he's doing, that's still a perfectly respectable time.
Me: Hmmm, ok then. Thanks for the help, brothers!
Mitch: Well, wait a minute, Chick. How long does he generally last? About fifteen minutes?
Me: Well, not quite, not 15 minutes. No.
Mitch: (Covering his mouth with his hand to hide his grin.) C'mon, Mel. Tell us. We are here to HELP you. We're your brothers. You have no reason to be ashamed to tell us anything.
Me: Well, ok. I guess. I mean, if you really ARE trying to help me.
Mitch: Of COURSE we are, that's what brothers do, isn't it, Mark?
Mark: Huh? What? (he's become completely engrossed in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, to the point of giggling at Bugs' wacky antics) Yeah, right. Here to help. Go ahead, Chicker. Tell us.
Mitch: How long does Satan last in the sack, Sister?
Me: About 3-5 minutes. If I'm lucky. But most of the time, I'm not lucky.

They just look at me, with this dumb look of disbelief. They don't even DARE to look at each other.

Mitch: Mel, surely you're just losing track of time, in the heat of the moment, right?
Mark: Yeah, you must just not be paying attention... you're not doing something right, or something.
Me: What the hell do you mean, I'm not doing something right? Of COURSE I'm not losing track of time. Time has to PASS before you can lose track of it! We have not had sex ONE time, when it lasted more than 5 minutes. What do you think I am, an IDIOT? Not doing something right... Well THAT is the fucking understatement of all time!

They look at each other and mouth the words "5 minutes?". Then they break down. They fucking LOSE it. They laugh. They yell. They hold their sides and wheeze. They punch each other. They repeat it over and over, "5 minutes", like a mantra. They ask each other over and over, "Did you hear her? She said 5 minutes! Oh God, that's funny."

Finally, they wind it down. Just a chuckle now and then is heard from them, as they wipe their eyes, and sit back down...

From that moment forward, I lived in fear and dread. My brothers talked about sex non stop. They didn't care who was around, they didn't care what the occasion was. They were CONSTANTLY debating, and discussing their sexual conquests.... And of course, they took up the cause of passively agressively making my life a living hell.

Anytime they happened to be around when Satan and I visited mom and Dad's house, you would hear any of the following statements gushing forth from one of their mouths:

"Hey, guys! Satan, you're EARLY! What happened, couldn't Mel give you 5 MINUTES to get ready?"

"Hey Satan, take off your jacket, man! You're gonna stay longer than 5 MINUTES aren't you?"

"Hey Satan, sit down and let's watch this movie for a little while. About 5 MINUTES is all you can stand, though."

"Wow, guys I'm tired! I'm gonna go to bed in about 5 MINUTES. I don't think I can LAST any longer than that."

It went on and on. I lived in constant fear. Luckily, Satan was a dumb sort of fuck, and had no idea what in the hell the boys were doing. Many a time, he commented to me, "Your brothers are weird." But thank God, he never caught on. He was and is a VERY private person. My sharing tales of his sexual prowess would have been tantamount to TREASON. I am not exaggerating this at all. Once he overheard me and his sister, making jokes about how many times we did it in a night. Of course, to HIS sister, I preached him up to be the stud of the universe. Didn't matter. He didn't speak to me for a week.

So, needless to say, our family get-togethers were fraught with tension for me. So much so that I began to make excuses for why we couldn't attend. Did this matter to my brothers? Not one whit. Especially to Mitch. If I didn't go there, he'd come HERE with a six pack and a pizza and a smile.

Then came what I like to refer to as THE GREAT STA-HARD DEBACLE. Never were their words to put more fear in my heart. As I recall, it went a little somethin' like THIS:

Rrrriiinnggg! I walk over to pick up the phone.

Me: Hello?
Mitch: Hey Chicker!
Me: Hey Mitch! When did you guys get in?
Mitch: A little while ago. How's about I pick up some beer and a pizza and me and Jeannie and Christy come up for a movie?
Me: Uh....
Mitch: C'mon sister, I'll behave. I want to spend some quality time with my little sister.
Me: (whispering) ok, buster, but you'd BETTER behave.
Mitch: I will, I promise. I'll be there in about an hour.

I wait impatiently for them to arrive, torn between excitement in seeing them all again, and fear of what he might say.

They arrive, and true to his word, Mitch behaves like a gentleman. We are having a very good time, and then I go to the bedroom for something. I hear something at the door, and look up. There stands my brother, grinning like a cheshire cat.

Mitch: Hey, Chick! Can I come in?
Me: (sitting on the bed) sure. Come on in.
Mitch: So this is the inner sanctum, huh? This where the MAGIC happens?
Me: Mitchell.... you PROMISED!
Mitch: No, no, I was just wondering. Have things gotten any better?
Me: None of your fucking business. I am not stupid enough to trust you NOW.
Mitch: So, that's a NO then, right? Well, don't worry, Chick. I have solved your problem for you. I brought a little somethin' for Satan.
Me: What do you mean, you brought a little somethin' for him? Mitchell, you BETTER not have brought him any marijuana.
Mitch: NO! No, I brought his this cream, it's called Sta-Hard, and you rub it.....
Me: MITCHELL, ARE YOU CRAZY!! You can't give him that! He'll KILL me! Oh dear God, you have to promise me that you won't give him that.
Mitch: Will you stop worrying? I plan to bring it up in causal conversation...
Me: Mitchell, listen to me. YOU CANNOT TEASE SATAN. It doesn't work. He will kick your ass, then he will kick mine.
Mitch: He can't kick Jeannie's ass, though. She's a black belt.
Me: So? He'll just SHOOT her, then.
Mitch: Good grief, you are way too paranoid. I can be subtle! Subtle is my middle name.
Me: YOU? SUBTLE? Your middle name is "Fuck-Me-World! I'm-Coming-at-Ya!"
Mitch: Sister, you are getting tense.
Me: No, I will be getting DIVORCED, if you show him that cream. He will DIVORCE me Mitchell. You have no idea how private he is. YOu can't do this, Oh God! The Shame of IT ALL!
Mitch: Your middle name is "DRAMA-is-my-middle-NAME!" Chill out, and I will tell you how I'm gonna bring it up.
Me: You can't bring it up.
Mitch: I'm gonna lean back on the couch, put my feet up on the coffee table, look at Satan, and say "So Satan.... Melody tells me...
Me: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Mitch: You got a problem with your pecker?"

And with that, he turns and leaves the room. I get down on my knees. "Hello, God? It's Mel. I need you to strike my brother dead before he gets to the living room. I promise not to ask for anything else, ever again, Amen."

Well, God didn't answer that prayer, which is SO like God. The rest of the evening was spent in gut-clenching misery, as Mitch prefaced ever other sentance with "So, Satan..."

Finally, finally, it came time for them to leave. I heaved a sigh of relief. Another catastrophe, narrowly avoided. Mitch and his wife and daughter get to the door, and Mitch turns back...

"So, Satan, " he says. "Mel tells me you've got a problem?"

I had to sit down. This then, would be the night of my demise. Visions of blood dripping and oozing from various parts of my body swam through my head. I began composing a list of what I might take with me should I survive the night. Let's see, the refrigertor, mom and dad bought that for me, I can take it. My stereo, and I'll take that little t.v. in the bedroom. Probably won't be able to see out of my swollen, black eyes much anyway.....

Satan looks at Mitch. "What kind of problem?"

Mitch smiles sweetly at me.

Sweet, sweet Lord. Save me.

"Oh she said it wass something about your truck. I was just gonna offer to help you if you need any help. You can have Mel call me. G'night!"

Satan looked over at me to ask what THAT was all about.

But I had collapsed in a fit of hysterical giggles.

Thanks, Marti! Have a great day, everyone!

melodyann