In Reply to: What Kind of Girl--? posted by Prissy on July 22, 2004 at 12:51:01:
Miss Prissy, huh? Dear Maria just reminded me about the Black girl named Delilah who lived in our home for four months and threw all my mushed puree food in my face when I tried to tweak her nipples. After that you were renamed Jezebel and sent out of our home to pioneer east Siberia. Yes, I remember YOU now! So you've tried to hide your shameful past by changing your name yet again?
(Maria: I think "Prissy" was her system name before she joined. I think she's gone back to it.)
Probably right. Personally, I thought Delilah suited her better, until that act of utter rebellious willfulnes when I was only exercising my prophetic perogative undoing her blouse. I'll tell you one thing, if I coulda caught her, I'd have slapped her across the face for refusing me when I had need. But could that black gal run! I slapped my first wife, Eve. She said, "You're so carnal. Why don't you read your Bible instead?" I'll tell you right now, I slapped her face so fast and hard she never knew what hit her. Then fucked her.
But Miss Prissy, oh yes, she's one of these liberated women, what the good ol' boys in Georgia call an "uppity nigger." Well you can be damn sure she'll never get another invitation to my house. I won't have a woman like that around who won't submit to a man. She doesn't know her place, you know that? (Maria: yes.) Did you know that? (Maria: Yes, sir!) I can't stand a woman who doesn't know her place. (Maria: YES SIR! That's right, sir!) Do you get it? Do you honey? (Maria: Yes, sir. I do get it, sir.)
Well, Miss Priss or Missy Prissy or whatever system name you want to use, you can go back to your little do-nothing, nobody lovers and I hope you're miserable. You'll never have the rod of David. You could have had it all, but when you had your chance to put your hands on my plow, you looked back. You had the "Days of Heaven" but you spurned it for a bowl of pottage. Like Demas you have forsaken me having loved this present world. I'm tired. I'm sick of it all. I'm just sick. I'm tired and ... (David weeps in self-pity.)
They could have had it all, but they spurned the love of David for the fleshpots of Egypt. They could have had the kisses of thy little father, but they turned away, like Jeane Manson whom I had to curse with sickness because she was a Playboy centerfold but wouldn't give me a lay. I could have given these women everything. Everything. I would've spent all the tithes of the struggling litnessers, I would have bought these women expensive gold jewelry with the sweat of the Family peons, but they would not.... they would not....