Tuesday, March 08, 2016

Demolition At The Fuck Motel Day!

Last night they all checked in. They signed the waivers. They visited the ice machine and walked around the drained pool and stared out the window at the wrecking ball sitting dormant under the moon.

“You all have sixty seconds,” you say through a bullhorn. “Step outside and shout your joys.”

The doors all fly open and men and women shout over each other. They shout the names of the lovers they met there. The dates on which they occupied those rooms in an erotic quarantine, walled off from their children and temporarily delinquent from the promises they made to their spouses, spouses whose names they also shout. It’s a messy chorus, and when it ends, they one by one step back into their rooms and wait.

It’s a ritual dating back to the Intimacy Laws of the late 1800s. When a Fuck Motel is slated for demolition, former guests may volunteer to spend one last night in the room where they once experienced pleasure that proved elusive for the rest of their lives. Now, they sit on the edge of their beds awaiting the wrecking ball. It will forever bond them to the walls and ceiling and bedside tables that bore witness to their happiest hours.

Happy Demolition At The Fuck Motel Day!