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Musings of a Decorative Ham Man

September 19, 2013 Leave a comment Go to comments

By Chris Vitiello
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Many years ago, I contracted with a nearby agency to execute a series of ponderous highway billboards advertising our Vitiello Decorative Hams.  It was during my first visit to this agency that I became smitten with a staff member (this, indeed, was before I had implemented my austere methods of self-control).  She was a lovely, gentle creature and I found myself instantly desiring her to the point of obsession.

A bond was created early.

“Do you enjoy the eating of pizza?” I asked her.  She looked up suddenly from her paperwork.

“Oh.  Yes.  I very much enjoy the eating of pizza.”  A change came over her large brown eyes.

And so, that very night, we feasted.  Following, we took a slow stroll along the waterfront.  It was Fall– the air had grown crisp and cool.  It was invigorating.

The next night, we did the same.  This time, however, our evening was rudely interrupted by the sudden appearance of a tall blonde man with a boyish face and watery, almost transparent eyes (clearly he was on narcotics) and short-cropped blonde hair.

The two entered into a conversation.  I stood to the side, seemingly invisible as the tete-a-tete went on for an interminable, almost intolerable period.  Clearly, there was something between them.  Later, after he was gone, I asked, “Who was that?”

“He is someone I used to go to large dances with,” she responded.  There was a long, pregnant pause.  “With lots of other people,” she added.  “It was a large group of us that went.”

I detest large groups that go dancing, I thought.  But I said nothing.

We had relations that night, I admit.  She seemed distracted and distant and kept asking if I was finished.  It was wholly uncomfortable.  Again, I said nothing.

The next night the man-boy appeared again during our walk.  And for weeks after that, well into winter, it seemed that this man-boy would materialize out of the shadows, oftentimes having the apparent gall to be found leaning against my very own Decorative Ham factory.  I desired to whip him and even began carrying a whip.  But I did not act.

And our relations continued in the same manner.  And by early Spring, they had curtailed dramatically.  And yet, every night, there was the man-boy, out of the shadows– ready to engage in further patter with my woman– staring longingly at her figure as I stood by helplessly, wordlessly.

Finally, I asked of her:  “you had relations with that man, no?  It is clear.”

“No, no, not at all,” she said.  She could not look me in the eye.  She kissed me but it seemed empty.

I entered a dark period then.  I grew distracted and obsessed by this man-boy.  My work suffered– I no longer hand-checked each Decorative Ham and many complaints were issued.  Sometimes, I found myself wandering about the wharf and along the sun-blanched piers, consumed by her lie.  I thought of her with this man-boy, I began to picture the act in my mind.  He had partaken of her flesh and she of his.  It was unbearable.

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, I broke a date with the woman and began to drive.  I ended up at the seashore.  There was a little store there that sold nets.  The proprietor was an ancient figure, slightly bent at the waist but with the same crop of blonde hair and watery eyes as my tormentor.

“I desire to buy out your business,” I said suddenly.

“What?”

“As I said, old man.  I desire to buy out your business.”  I produced a check book.  After some haggling, we worked out a deal.

The next night, I had the store bulldozed into the ocean.  And that ended the entire affair.

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