How to Kill Your Boyfriend [in 10 Easy Steps] by D. V. Bernard

Author:D. V. Bernard [Bernard, D. V.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Strebor Books
Published: 2006-03-15T04:00:00+00:00

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

BROOKLYN; FRIDAY, OCTOBER 21, 2005; 14:22

(The following is one of Stacy’s demented stories. I cut a couple of them in the final draft. The following was supposed to be the first story Stacy told, but when I was finished, I felt that it was so long that it was distracting to the overall plot. Now that you’re finished reading the novel, you can probably use all the distractions you can get. Remember that this is Stacy telling Vera a story.)

DELETED SCENE

“…So, one day a businesswoman is rushing back to work after lunch at a restaurant. Let’s call her Tina McKinney. She’s middle-aged and dressed in a business suit—your typical career businesswoman. Anyway, she runs into a friend of hers, whom she hasn’t seen in years. Let’s call her Shelley Halima. ‘Hey, Shelley!’ Tina says; she continues: ‘How have you been? I haven’t seen you since the divorce?’ As soon as she says it, she immediately regrets it, remembering the messy divorce her friend had had two years ago. Nevertheless, her friend smiles and hugs her, undisturbed. Tina is relieved. Figuring that her friend’s ease must be due to a new relationship, she ventures: ‘Seeing anyone new?’ Shelley shakes her head, still unconcerned, before revealing: ‘I haven’t had a man in two years, and I don’t need one.’

“There was a tint of antagonism at the mention of men, and Tina was just beginning to think that her friend had switched teams and gone over to the rug-munching side, when Shelley announced, ‘I have Vincent now.’ ‘Vincent?’ Tina asked; and then: ‘Who is he?’ ‘Vincent isn’t a who, girl,” Shelley corrected her, “—he’s a godsend.’ And then, with a loud salesperson’s voice, she went on, ‘The Vincent 6000: ten inches of vibrating magnificence, always ready for my pleasure.’ Tina stared at her uneasily: ‘…A vibrator?’ she said, looking around, in case anyone had heard. ‘Damn right,’ Shelley said proudly. But Tina still had a frown on her face: ‘You’re saying you don’t need a man because you have a vibrator?’ ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. Vincent is always hard; he doesn’t fall asleep on me—’ Tina interrupted her with, ‘Not unless the batteries run out.’ Shelley shook her head: ‘No, girl—Vincent runs off the energy of my body.’ ‘…It does what?’ ‘He runs off my juices, honey.’ …Tina’s frown deepened: ‘Your pussy juices?’ Shelley nodded her head in the same proud way: ‘Damn straight. …And get this: Vincent talks to me.’ ‘Your vibrator talks?’ ‘Yeah, he says the most wonderful things. It’s like he senses my moods. When I want to get raunchy, he says the nastiest things to me; when I want to be treated tenderly, he whispers the sweetest things.’ Tina was uncomfortable listening to all this; and suddenly realizing something about her friend, she said, ‘Do you realize that you’re calling your vibrator “he”?’ ‘What else would I call him?’ Shelley said as if there were some kind of bigotry behind Tina’s comment: as if she had just said that black people weren’t human beings, or that women were mentally inferior.

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