Wednesday, May 05, 2004

Learn The Bugle Day!

Learn to play "Broken Taps." Your girlfriend's so gonna dig it.

Practice playing so that you fuck up that one note the exact same way that Sergeant Keith Clark cracked it at Kennedy's funeral. The next time you and your girlfriend are going at it, just go through the usual steps like you're gonna do it the way you've done it for the past 200 nights. Close the door and let her get into the living room, then come up from behind her as she's unbuttoning her coat and kiss her neck while you slip your hands underneath her fingers and unbutton the buttons for her, like you do. Like clockwork, get your hands up under her sweater, pulling her breasts free from the cups of her bra and holding them while you kiss her ear. She'll spin around, like she does, and she'll pull her sweater over her head and she'll interrupt you undoing the clasp of her bra by pulling your shirt over your head. You'll make out there, like you do, standing up in the middle of the floor, both your torsos bare and white under the one light bulb that hasn't burned out yet, and then you'll drop a bit and lay kisses on her breasts before you put your mouth to the crotch of her pants, rubbing your face into the warmth, like you do. You'll come back up and she'll undo your pants and play with you while you make out some more. Then she'll push you to a seat on the bed, drop to her knees on the floor and bring you into her mouth, like she does.

When she pulls away from you, with a few gentle kisses goodbye, she'll stand and ready her hands to undo her pants and climb up on the bed to dip her pussy in your mouth. Grab her hands before she gets the button undone and say, "Wait."

Her face will turn with fear that you've lost the mood. But your smile will tell her that, yes, it's going to happen, yes. Yes, the two of you are possibly going to have sex in a manner that diverges slightly from the clockwork step-by-step you've both come to contentedly enjoy over the past two hundred nights. She'll keep her hands by the button of her pants, and they'll shake a bit with anticipation. Reach under the bed and retrieve the bugle.

She'll look at the bugle like it's a diamond ring. She'll have to catch her breath to ask her question.


"Broken baby." Kiss her just above her belly button and look up into her eyes. "Broken."

Close your eyes, wet your lips and pucker to the bugle. When you open your eyes, you'll find her pants are open and her hand is bunched into an open fist under her underwear. Close your eyes again and blow.

Day is done… Draw it out so very long. And when the note finally gives to silence, she'll suck in a startled gasp, capped with a wet coo at a pitch high enough to crack a glass. Open your eyes. Her eyelids are fluttering faster than her fingers are flittering underneath her underwear. Close your eyes again.

Gone…the sun… And you crack it, you crack the sun with that same broken pitch that made the whole country blink their eyes just once, all at once, so many years ago. Recover the pitch and let the note swim out, but the sound of your bugle will be smothered by the ecstasy pouring forth from her mouth in a torrent of sobs. You'll be cut off when she climbs onto your thighs, her pants and underwear stretched wide below her knees, and stumbling and flailing she'll jostle the bugle away from in front of your face and whip you up inside of her, her panting sobs turning to a pained moan as she says over and over, "Oh I love you oh I love you" like she's begging God to never ever take you away. The fury of her writhing frame and the strength of her grip around your neck will make you stiffen in fear that any movement on your part might make her hurt you by accident. But she'll finish, and you'll finish, and she'll lay atop you whispering her love into your ear until she falls asleep.

She sure does dig that president.

Happy Learn The Bugle Day!