I took a train to Mariachi Plaza and had dinner with a woman who knew Jack Kerouac. Jack had slept on her and her husband Bob’s couch for a month back in the day.
One day Jack came into the room and asked the woman for a blow-job. The woman said no on account of her being married, and guilt and all.
“Oh, that’s okay,” Jack said. “I’d prefer Bob to do it anyway.” 
No comments:
Post a Comment