Jan 292013
 

SPUNKY SUE 

Chapter 1

 

Fullmoon777

                  I think the reward for conformity is that

                   everyone likes you except yourself. 

                  Rita Mae Brown, Bingo (1988)

The full moon always seemed to rattle the women on floor 2B.  Tonight was no different.  Spunky Sue woke everyone up at 5.18 a.m. with her lesbian rendition of the Cole Porter song  ‘Summer Time.’   Nursing staff  Morgan Cummins and Rikki Kobota smiled knowingly at each other.  They waited for the line,

“Your mamma’s rich and her girlfriend’s good lookin’

 so hush lezzie babies, don’t you cry!” 

Rikki made her way towards Spunky’s room amidst howls of protests from irritated residents.

Mrs. Swanson shrieked  “Shut up, you disgusting woman!” And she then proceeded to quote Biblical verses that condemned Spunky Sue to Hell’s bottomless pit, surrounded by the fires of eternal damnation!

Rikki entered Spunky Sue’s room and tried to conceal her smile at the sight of the seventy-four year old “singer”.   Sitting upright, wearing silk pajamas with all the buttons undone, Spunky made a point of asking “Have you read this?”  Rikki glanced at the title, “Erotic Stories for Sappho’s Sisters.”

“Nope.” replied the nurse calmly.  “Too wild for me!”

Spunky laughed, adjusting her baseball cap that read ‘Gay Love, It’s the Real Thing.’

“So,  Spunky, what’s the excuse for breaking the rules this time?” asked Rikki.

“I was just lonesome for the sight of a beautiful woman, and now, here you are!”

Rikki crossed the room, politely took the book and cap, and turned off Spunky’s reading lamp.  She lowered the bed to a horizontal sleeping position and shook her finger at the women.

“Mrs. Gresham, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“You mad at me, Honey?”  Spunky asked in a playful tone.  “’Cause if you are, I’m not seducing you in my next dream.”

Rikki responded in a louder than necessary voice.  “Suzanna Gresham, I’ll be writing this incident in my Night Report.”

The stern reprimand brought a chorus of cheers from neighbouring residents.  Spunky rose to the challenge.

“Well, Rikki, my dear,” replied Spunky. “Let’s make it a good report then!”

Spunky improvised her own provocative lyrics and belted out  the negro spiritual, ‘When the Saints Go Marching In.”

 

 

Oh, when those lezzies go marching in,

Oh, when those lezzies go marching in,

Oh Lord, I’ll have a great or-gasm

When those lezzies go marching in.

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