HERSCHEL'S XMAS EVE

Smut. That’s what people call what I supply. Smut. I got into pornography way back in the 70’s, back when it was taboo, when it was harder to find. So, why, now, do people demonize me and what I do? Hey, I don’t exploit children. I exploit women who exploit themselves. You ask any male porn star, they’ll tell you. I’ve been to the conventions and talked to these guys. They all sing the same song. Women control the industry. The power of pussy, plain and simple. Men can’t get enough of it. As long as there’s a woman performing some degenerate act on camera, there will be a man who jerks off to it. God’s honest truth. Mayor’s brother comes in here all the time looking for the newest foot porn. Foot porn. He’ll be in here tonight, I guarantee it. There’s this Ojibwe guy in here. Something like six foot seven. Guy can’t get off on anything but fat chics. He’ll be strolling in here tonight, too. I’m sure of it.

I just hate thinking about what these guys’ home lives are like.

And the look on their faces when I tell them that I’m closing this place up for good. I can’t wait. Christmas Eve, last day. And this place will be packed. I have half a mind to close up without telling anybody, installing camera outside, close-up on their faces. If I gave a shit about Christmas, I’d consider that a gift to myself.

Jesus, do I have the balls to actually close?




-SLL