Monday, June 12, 2017

The Knitters' Dilemma, by Cecil Bethea


The scene is a comfortable living room – like its owner a bit worn and dowdy who is sitting on a sofa with two wing back chairs at either end.  A plastic grocery bag lies beside him.


Bert  (Looking directly at the audience) Good afternoon!  My name is Bert Wilson.  Because I’m a junior and Dad was called “Al”, I got the rear end, which is pretty much the story of my life.

Well, you all are probably wondering why we’re here.  There is a story.  I’m a member of a men’s club called the Prime Timers.  If you’re nice, you’d call us a group of mature gentlemen involved in various social activities.  If you’re not nice but are bitchy –like so many people-, you could call us a gaggle of gay geezers doing only God knows what.

Anyway a few of us are working on a project to raise money for the club.  While we don’t advertise the fact, we all like to knit, it’s a bit like masturbation –enjoyable but not discussed. Anyway, we’re doing a project to raise money.  We are making what might be called, shall I call them, stocking stuffers, actually they are called cock socks.  Hate that term.  Sounds like something you’d buy in a really depressing discount store.

(The door chimes “There’s Gonna Be a Hot Time in This Old Town Tonight”) Come on in whoever you are; the lock is off.

Ben   Some day you’re going to say that to the wrong man.

Bert  Is there such a creature as a “wrong man”?

Ben   Just think how often we’ve fallen in love before the third drink with some guy in a bar.

Bert  There you go again dragging up the past.

Ben   We all know you think that truth is a greatly overrated virtue.  Listen, I went by Playtime Toys and talked to Mike, the manager; he’d like to get a dozen of the cock socks, but on consignment.

Bert  Consignment?  What’s that?

Ben We let him have them.  For each one he sells we get $7.50.  Any he doesn’t sell we get back.

Bert  Is he honest?

Ben   He’ll sign a contract.

Bert  Exactly what sort of place is this Playtime Toys.

Ben   You know.  He sells sex toys.

Bert  No, I don’t know!  I get along very well without gadgets.  Besides what were you doing in Playtime Toys?

Ben   He also sells porn.

Bert  Now that’s understandable.  Wonder where the magazines get all those good looking young men who are willing, no, anxious, to take off their clothes to be photographed.  I never see any such creatures while strolling in the malls, at Safeway, or on 16th Street.

Ben   You should sport a $100 bill or maybe even a $50 on your lapel.  Sometimes, I hear, a hot meal and a warm bed will do the trick.

Bert  Really?

Ben   At least, that’s what I hear.  Is Adam coming?

Bert  Yes.  He has a ride with Ned, that new member who was at the luncheon Wednesday, so he might be on time, 

Ben   Unlikely.  Adam will be too late for his own funeral.  (The chimes peal) I might be wrong.

Bert  Come on in.

Adam   I do believe I’m on time.

Ben   Probably nobody else will believe in that miracle.

Adam   There you go again being cynical and telling the world.

Ben   Not so much cynical as realistic.

Adam   No matter.  This is Ned.  Remember him from the luncheon Wednesday.  He sat by me.  Somehow during the conversation, it came out that he knits, so naturally I invited him to join us.

Bert  Ned, who taught you how?

Ned  My grandmother.  She babysat me.  To keep me still she taught me how to crochet pot holders.  Everybody, no matter who, got a pot holder for Christmas.  Eventually I graduated to afghans.  Pot holders became dull so she taught me how to knit.  As they say, the rest is history.

Bert  My story exactly except it was Aunt Amanda.  She was a fine seamstress.  Women came all the way from Laurel to have her make them dresses.

Ned  Laurel?  Maryland?

Ben   Lord, no.  He’s from the metropolis of Hot Coffee, Mississippi.  Bert is the only man I know who can turn ‘shit’ into a five-syllable word.

Ned  Five?

Ben   He sort of skids on that ‘i’.

Bert You all quit talking about me.  I’m thinking we should get a name other than “cock sox”.  That sounds so common.

Ned  Hardly common.  I’d say downright rare.  For example, is one of us wearing a cock sock now?

Adam   It’s not that cold outside.

Ben   I’d never thought of using one like long johns.

Bert  You all know what I mean – a classy name with just a hint of naughtiness.

Ned  What about ‘Gilding for the Lily’?

Ben   Maybe ‘Gift Wrap’.

Adam   ‘Camouflage’.

Ben   ‘Almost There’

Ned  ‘High Hopes’

Adam   ‘Manhandler’,

Bert  Remember; we’re not trying to name a new perfume.

Ned  I once heard them called penis cozies.

Ben   How many guys have ever seen a tea cozy much less know what a cozy is?

Bert  I prefer penis cozy to cock sock because it sounds so warm and snugly.

Ned  Well, now that problem is solved; we can get to work.

Adam   I’m more than half way through one.  And Reggie, that guy from Calgary, gave me a custom order for a gift.  Wrote the colors and the size on his business card.  (He pulls the card from his wallet, reads, and then exclaims)  My God!

Bert  What’s the matter?

Adam   He wants a cock sock in Kelly-green with amethyst blue trim and 20 by 6!

Ben   That’s positively equine.

Ned  Sounds more like elephantine.

Bert  Those colors are garish.  Wait just one minute! Did you say twenty by six?  No one has ever seen one that size; has anyone ever heard of one? 

Ned  That would be a treasure in a museum.  

Ben   Or in a porno film.

Adam   The very wonder!

Ned  I think you should verify those dimensions.

Ben   On the other hand if they are wrong, he could use the thing for a tote bag.

Bert  That would be an awful lot of Kelly-green and amethyst blue.  I think you should call to check.

Ben   Try to get the other guy’s number.

Adam    (Dialing) Hello, Reggie.  Adam Swithin.  I’m just checking to see if I got you order right.  My eyes aren’t what they were.

Never did meet a Dorian Grey either.  Now, you have down here on your card Kelly green…

Oh!  He is.

That’s not too common.

All over!

I’m sure he is.  And you want amethyst blue for the trim?

They are?  That must be nice.

Now about the size, I read it as twenty by six

(Disappointed) So that’s it ,

I didn’t know that. 

Well, I just wanted to be sure  

See you at the luncheon Wednesday.  Good bye.

Well, that man is besotted or crazy or vice versa.

Ned  Go ahead and give us the details

Adam   Firstly, Reggie, like I said, is madly in love with an Irishman.  That’s why he wants the Kelly green.

Ben   Never heard of showing your patriotism by wearing a Kelly-green cock sock.

Ned  You’ve never been in the baths after a St. Patrick’s Day Parade.  I did decades ago in New York.  Still suffer from post-traumatic stress syndrome.

Bert  What about the amethyst blue?

Adam   That’s the color of Shawn’s beautiful eyes.  His hair is red, everywhere.

Ned  When the lights are out you can’t see, so the colors don’t matter, but you can feel a lot.

Ben   Tell us.  We are waiting with bated breath.  Whatever that means

Adam   Like I said, Reggie is from Calgary.  Up in Canada, they use the metric system.  So, it is in centimeters not inches.  Respectable but not marvelous.

Bert  But what does all this mean?  Centimeters? I don’t understand.

Ben   It means that Shawn’s prick is about 7 ½ inches by 2 ¾.

Bert  That’ s nice but certainly not 20 X 6.

Ned  Oh! How the glory has departed.

Ben   Miracles do not happen in the modern world.

Adam   But I can still daydream.

Bert  Seeing one that big would be like that old saying “See Paris and die.”

© 17 Oct 2010 

About the Author 

 Although I have done other things, my fame now rests upon the durability of my partnership with Carl Shepherd; we have been together for forty-two years and nine months as of today, August 18th, 2012.

Although I was born in Macon, Georgia in 1928, I was raised in Birmingham during the Great Depression.  No doubt I still carry invisible scars caused by that era.  No matter we survived.  I am talking about my sister, brother, and I.  There are two things that set me apart from people.  From about the third-grade I was a voracious reader of books on almost any subject.  Had I concentrated, I would have been an authority by now; but I didn’t with no regrets.

After the University of Alabama and the Air Force, I came to Denver.  Here I met Carl, who picked me up in Mary’s Bar.  Through our early life, we traveled extensively in the mountain West.  Carl is from Helena, Montana, and is a Blackfoot Indian.  Our being from nearly opposite ends of the country made “going to see the folks” a broadening experience.  We went so many times that we finally had “must see” places on each route like the Quilt Museum in Paducah, Kentucky and the polo games in Sheridan, Wyoming.  Now those happy travels are only memories.

I was amongst the first members of the memory writing class.  While it doesn’t offer criticism, it does offer feedback.  Also, just trying to improve your writing helps no end.

Carl is now in a nursing home; I don’t drive any more.  We totter on.

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