MARILYN
Once Julie was Marilyn Monroe, and I was a humble salesman.
Oh, that one! I love that one!
I knocked on her door and offered to buy my simple wares. She declined but asked if I wanted to get to know her better. I said: “Why, sure,” so she invited me to her bedroom. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that her bed was already occupied. Marilyn introduced us. There was Norman, a middle-aged psychiatrist, as well as Arthur Miller’s little Jewish daddy, but the geezer left soon after. Under the bed there was Joe, a cricket player or something. Rosencrantz the milkman and Guildenstern the postman also showed up, but could not stay as they were on duty. They all turned out to be great guys. Marilyn was great too, but as I was getting to know her better, her hubby Arthur Miller came in, back from a book signing, or whatever, and started to argue with Marilyn about something, distracting us to no end. Joe under the bed was not happy either, complaining that he could not concentrate. Only the psychiatrist did not seem to mind - he was busy taking notes.
Soon afterwards Arthur Miller published his acclaimed masterpieces: Death of a Salesman, Death of a Psychiatrist, Death of a Cricket Player or Something and Milkman and Postman are Dead.
I went to the book signing and asked Mr. Miller what he was working on. He said: “Death of a Little Jewish Daddy.” I could have guessed.
Oh, that one! I love that one!
I knocked on her door and offered to buy my simple wares. She declined but asked if I wanted to get to know her better. I said: “Why, sure,” so she invited me to her bedroom. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that her bed was already occupied. Marilyn introduced us. There was Norman, a middle-aged psychiatrist, as well as Arthur Miller’s little Jewish daddy, but the geezer left soon after. Under the bed there was Joe, a cricket player or something. Rosencrantz the milkman and Guildenstern the postman also showed up, but could not stay as they were on duty. They all turned out to be great guys. Marilyn was great too, but as I was getting to know her better, her hubby Arthur Miller came in, back from a book signing, or whatever, and started to argue with Marilyn about something, distracting us to no end. Joe under the bed was not happy either, complaining that he could not concentrate. Only the psychiatrist did not seem to mind - he was busy taking notes.
Soon afterwards Arthur Miller published his acclaimed masterpieces: Death of a Salesman, Death of a Psychiatrist, Death of a Cricket Player or Something and Milkman and Postman are Dead.
I went to the book signing and asked Mr. Miller what he was working on. He said: “Death of a Little Jewish Daddy.” I could have guessed.
posted by Surge Levene at 5:29 PM
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