Page 119 of Devil’s Disciples

“As fake as Ben Affleck’s hair.”

“The dude from Armageddon? His hair’s fake? He’s got good hair.”

“He doesn’t have good hair. He’s got a good toupee. His hair is as fake as Dolly’s tits,” she said with a smile. “I love Armageddon, by the way.”

The movie was one of my all-time favorites. A group of misfit oil drillers sent into space to detonate a bomb at the core of an asteroid that was headed toward earth sounded like a ridiculous plot. The secondary plot of the love story between Ben Affleck and Liv Tyler made the movie well worth watching. I had yet to admit to anyone that it was a guilty pleasure of mine.

I’d seen the damned thing more times that I could count.

I reached for my beer, and then realized it was empty. After pushing it aside, I looked at her and grinned. “If they asked you to go out in space and blow up an asteroid – and there was a high probability that you’d die in the process – would you do it?”

“Would doing so save the world?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Same circumstances as the movie. Would you do it?”

“I always wanted to blow something up just because I think it would be fun. But, I prefer it be here on earth, not in space. Detonating a bomb is high on my bucket list. To answer your question, ‘yes’. I’d volunteer to blow up the asteroid and save the world.” She tilted her head in my direction. “Same question to you.”

Being an astronaut was on the top of my career lists as a kid. That, and being a comedian. “Fuck yes,” I responded without a moment’s thought. “I’ve always wanted to be an astronaut. Blowing up an asteroid would be fucking awesome.”

She took a sip of her margarita and then another. A serious look washed over her. “What satisfaction do guys get out of titty-fucking women, anyway? It seems pretty ridiculous to me. Floppy boobs over a warm tight pussy?”

“Damn,” I said, choking on a laugh. “That came from left field.”

She cocked her head and gave me a playful side-eyed look. “You said you wanted to titty-fuck me. I don’t understand the fascination.”

I shrugged. “It’s fun.”

“For you.”

“You don’t like it?” I asked.

“It’d be hard to say. The only person that’s ever done it was an asshole.” She glanced away and shrugged. “I really didn’t get into it.”

“That dude from last night?”

She nodded. “Marvin.”

“Marvin?” I laughed. “That’s his name?”

“Yeah.”

“You should have known he was a turd when he told you his name. I bet there’s not a Marvin on earth that’s a solid dude.”

She twisted her mouth to the side and seemed to drift off into deep thought. After a moment, she looked at me. “Marvin Gaye’s the only one that comes to mind.”

“One worthwhile ‘Marvin’, and his dad shot him.”

Her face went somber. “That was so sad when it happened.”

“When was it?” I asked.

“Nineteen eighty-four, I think.”

“I wasn’t born yet.”

“I was eleven. The Olympics were here in California, and I fell in love with Jake in Sixteen Candles. Other than that, you didn’t miss much.”

“I wish I was born earlier.”