Not from the Christians but to the girlies. Because, by the time I got to the spot where I had earlier parked my Cad, my Cad was no longer parked there. It was zooming away down the road. I watched it zooming away, feeling sick. There went my Cadillac, filled with girlies. Ten of them. All naked as eggs. And here I stood, beginning to sag, quaking in every limb, with nowhere to go and without even transportation to get there. I had suffered from anticlimaxes before, but seldom had I suffered so much. Never again, I mentally cried, will I expect gratitude from a girl! They’re all ingrates. They don’t give a hang. Just use a man, then toss him aside like an old shoehorn—or shoe, that’s what I felt like. An old shoe, scuffed and worn and half-soled and bent out of shape and with my tongue hanging out two, maybe three, inches.… There was the screech of brakes. Distant girlish squealing. Zoom, back toward me came the Cadillac. Damn near knocked me down as it skidded to a stop, but I didn’t care.
