|Two pulp fiction aficionados reading or something.|
Dispatched by Out of the Gutter Online to get the scoop, I headed out to Central Park on a fine spring midday to ask the young ladies where the idea came from, if they felt at all self-conscious, and... uh...something else that didn't have to do with tits.
Being that it was a noir-related asignment, I was sure to wear my classic Bogey trench coat as well as a fedora, and, just for effect, some cool sunglasses. The weird thing is, I was so caught up thinking about the trenchcoat, etc., that I forgot to put on my pants. And my underwear. Can you imagine it?
About the time I arrived at Central Park I realized my mistake and I knew I could not
|A portrait of a charter member of the|
club enjoying a modern pulp classic.
The weirdest thing then happened: There must be an epidemic of epilepsy among Central Park squirrels, because some of them seemed to have begun having seizures right in the shrubbery I had hid myself behind. The shaking shrubbery attracted the attention of a large policeman, and the next I knew, I was being chased from my assignment, and worse, having words like "pervert" and "scumbag" screamed at me. The extent of the follies and misunderstandings were appalling.
Although I was never able to conduct a formal interview, I plan to visit the Outdoor Coed Topless Pulp Fiction Appreciation Society website 30 to 40 times a day, and admire their perky, upright, forthcoming personalities in person, from a safe distance, as often as I can.
Anyone interested in starting a nude Out of the Gutter reading group, please contact the editor for my home telephone number. I will personally deliver the reading material and aid in any way I can, including hosting events in my apartment, taking pictures, rubbing in sunblock, hosting sleepovers, relationship counseling complete with hugs, wrestling lessons, and free non-medical exams.