by Ed Sikov
“I put down $250 on Billy Joe oh everybody’s up I’ll call you back is there coffee I smell it yeah! Bye! Great!” Phil Levine bounded down the stairs dressed only in a black leather jockstrap to which he had affixed a matching cellphone holster. Dan, Paolo, Chipper and I stared in shocked silence as the hypermasculine spitfire strode toward us. Seconds later, we were all introduced to his phenomenally hairy ass when he turned around to pour a mug of coffee. What with the phone strapped to the strap and all that fur, the vision was too much to bear (so to speak), and in a failed effort to stifle a laugh, I involuntarily snorted. Dan glared at me but with an unmistakable smirk. Paolo and Chipper practically ran toward the deck.
“What?” Phil Levine barked when he turned and caught me gaping at his astounding leather-covered bulge, which was as bull-like as his ego. “Your cell phone,” I lied. “Never without it,” Phil declared. “Might be business on the other end funny business know what I mean?”
Damn! Phil Levine has “it” – that indescribable erotic allure that transcends body type, body hair, facial features, everything. “It men” like Phil are pheromone-reeking catnip to other guys. Especially when wearing nothing but a leather jock.
“The Preakness is this afternoon I’m making Pimm’s Cups if the liquor store carries it they’d better it’s standard stuff and I assume you can get decent cucumbers at the Pantry….” “Of course you can,” I broke in. “But aren’t Pimm’s Cups a summer drink?”
“Eat me,” replied Phil Levine with a grin as he grabbed his enormous package. Then his cell phone rang – the ringtone was “Theme from ‘The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.'” He yammered away about the $250 he had riding on Billy Joe and told whoever it was to come over in 20 minutes; he had to take a shower. Then again maybe he wouldn’t…. He snickered lewdly and hung up, seized his coffee and sped upstairs, presumably to generate more body odor.
Dan’s mouth was slightly open as he stared in the direction Phil’s hairy rear had just taken. He had a distinctly guilty look about him. “Well, it is nicely proportioned,” he tried, but I cut him off. “He runs around the house in licensed Verizon-accessory fetishwear. That damn horse should jump off the Tallahatchie Bridge.” “What?” Dan asked in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about half the time.” “‘Papa said to Mama as he passed around the black-eyed pea-ee-ee-eas….'” I explained. “I give up,” Dan muttered sadly and headed for the deck.
The liquor store came through with the Pimm’s, of course, and the Pines Pantry had cukes galore – waxed ones, the wrapped European kind, Kirbies…. Phil’s Pimm’s Cups were perfect. I couldn’t stand it. So as we crowded around the television to watch the Preakness – “we” included the stunningly beautiful Malaysian boy who’d spent the day and who now sat on Phil’s lap – I had to be just a little snide. “The Pimm’s Cups are terrific, Phil,” I said. “Too bad it’s such a chilly afternoon.” There was cosmic justice to back me up: Billy Joe came in fifth.
The Pimm’s Cup
2 ounce Pimm’s #1
Ginger Ale to taste (Canada Dry is fine, but be a snob and use one with a stronger ginger flavor)
Thin slices of cucumber
Pour the Pimm’s into a tall glass filled with ice; top off with ginger ale. Garnish with a cucumber slice.