Sex and the American Male

Chapter III

(Warning: In light of recent developments, mainly those developments which relate to censorship and bad parenting, excuse me, I mean, people who want to keep harmful “things” away from children, the author wishes to let the readers know that the following chapter includes a whole lot of explicit sex, fast, dangerous cars and other constructs that some people would declare lead to having a wild, adventurous and sensual life. So if these types of things offend you, or if your Dad is looking over your shoulder right now, you may wish to jump to the next chapter.)

Zack was only out of the institution a little over a month when his sex life became dangerously imperiled. A shame too, since he had just pushed it to the level even Dr. Freud would have been proud of. Yet, he had no doubt in his mind (the little he still had intact) that if he didn’t correct a serious flaw rather quickly, the passion and romance would be out of his life. The stimulating nights, tender afternoons, and those mornings filled with wild abandon, would all be a thing of the past if he didn’t get hip, didn’t move with the crowd, didn’t become cool—didn’t buy a new car.

(Editor’s note: In fairness to our readers, I must let you know that this story really has little to do with sex, the author just uses that word every now and then to keep reader interest. I suspect he thinks it’s a clever way to make fun of car ads or something.)

(Publisher’s note: Don’t listen to the editor. He’s just PO’ed because his sex life is abysmal. The author actually writes a lot about sex in this chapter, sometimes getting quite graphic, and we here at the publishing company hope you will continue to read this stimulating chapter, as well as decide to buy more books from us. Maybe even buy one for a friend or two.)

Joanie, his girlfriend, had sounded the warning of his impending descent to the realm of ordinariness.

“I am just SO embarrassed,” she exclaimed during a recent date.

“What? What are you embarrassed about?” Zack said defensively. “Oh, my gosh! Is my dandruff showing?” He quickly looked down at his shoulders and brushed away what seemed like tons of that evil dry skin.

“No, don’t be silly.”

“My God, it’s my breath, isn’t it?” he said wincing, trying his best not to open his mouth too wide.

“Oh, come on, Zack. Isn’t it obvious?” she said, narrowing her eyes.

Zack looked apprehensively at her, then shook his head. “Uh, huh.”

“Every time I get into this car I cringe,” she said. “I haven’t said anything ‘til now because I knew how delicate your thought patterns must be since returning, but I just can’t take the embarrassment any longer!”

“My car? You’re embarrassed by my car?”

“It’s an absolute wreck! I pray to God that when we go out my friends won’t see me. I’d be a laughing stock.”

“Um, but it’s only two years old. It’s in mint condition.”

She crossed her arms over her chest (the place where most of his thoughts were at the moment), took a deep breath and turned her head away from him to look out the window. This gave Zack a clear indication that his sex life was in serious danger. He knew the warning signs all too well.

(Typesetter’s note: The Union doesn’t allow us to include notes in books we set, however, if we were allowed to, we’d probably suggest that if you really want a hot sex publication you should go buy the recent Hustler and forget this highbrow stuff. Check especially page 63.)

Zack didn’t know that during the span of time he had been in the institution (suffering from a serious case of acute commercial overstimulation, if you will recall), the entire United States population had become convinced that true happiness, sexual fulfillment and total power actualization, could only be obtained by owning a very expensive, new, ultra-modern, aerodynamic, safe, well-crafted, American, um, automobile. Men knew that they could never be considered a True Man unless they owned a macho, power-crunching machine to roar off into the sunset with their startlingly beautiful women by their sides. Women realized that they would be social outcasts if the men they were riding with drove a lower-class, common automobile. Both sexes were positive that even though they might be leading mediocre, yuppie lives, just by owning a sporty car they would be considered with it, now, and nowhere near as boring as all those other Middle Americans. So, after a frustratingly sexless night, Zack set out the following morning in the search for a new car.

Zack wasn’t very experienced in buying cars because he only bought one every 10 years (and therefore believed he still had eight years to go before he needed to venture out again). Because of this inexperience, he mistakenly believed that the simplest and safest plan would be to return to the place where he had previously experienced some good fortune. He drove to Gene’s Car City. Little did he realize that Gene, a kindly old man who loved older cars and could tell you where every nut on any car was located, had sold out his franchise to Howard Cramden, who was desperately trying to sell every car on the lot so he could have a lot more sex with his wife. Howard didn’t change the name of the lot because he knew people trusted Gene, and would therefore return to a man whom they trusted. Besides, as far as Howard was concerned, the only thing that had changed about the dealership was that Gene no longer worked on the lot. Gene was in Hawaii, having sex on the beach with his wife, who hated cars with an impressive, albeit un-American, passion.

Howard approached Zack as he stood in front of a large, shiny, red car.

“This is our biggest seller!” Howard said proudly.

“It is? Seems rather, well, big to me.”

“Yes, roomy. A luxury car with the emphasis on luxury.”

“That’s redundant. What kind of gas mileage does it get?”

Howard looked quizzically at Zack. “Gas mileage? You aren’t one of those environmental terrorists are you?”

“Um, well, I’m no terrorist, but I think it’s important.”

“Well, it gets four MPGs. But let me tell you about the lush velour seats.”

“Four miles per gallon!”

“If we take out the AC and you coast downhill, you can get six. Now, look at this aerodynamic hood. Is that a thing of beauty or what?” Howard said, putting his hands on his hips and admiring the thing of beauty.

“Doesn’t the EPA say you have to get 20 MPG?”

“Boy, I don’t know why you keep harping on this thing, unless you’re one of those weak-knee, liberal freaks. Besides, I know you’ve heard of clause B, section 23 of the USBC code that states that American cars are exempted if they promise to increase MPG by 20% by 2024. But enough about government regs, let me show you the turbokenized energization transfuger that lets you accelerate from 0 to 60 in .67 seconds.”

Howard opened the hood of the car and Zack looked in horror at 1,000 different electrodes, wires, gas configurators, spark energizers, regulator fromulators and other assorted devices that Zack had always thought were confined to spaceships.

“Well, how does a guy like me fix this thing when it breaks down?”

“Fix it?” Howard said, completely confused. “Why, you don’t fix it. You send it to our service installation where our quality reintegration technicians, who I might add, have a degree in automobile configuration modification, repair anything that might go wrong.”

“Hmm, I sorta like tinkering around with engines myself.”

“What? Incredible! No, no, no, you mustn’t fool around with these babies. Leave it to the experts. Besides, you don’t want to mess up your clothes fooling around with a dirty engine.”

“Um, well, I usually wear some old clothes to work on my car.”

Howard began to get flustered by this odd person. “Old clothes? That’s wild. You won’t attract many babes with old clothes on.”

“I’m just trying to fix the car, not impress women.”

Howard shook his head and grimaced. Surely this was an alien standing in front of him. He desperately wanted to make a sale though, so decided not to alert authorities. “Listen, your sex life must be in the pits, here with you wearing old clothes and working on cars. With this little gem you’ll have women falling all over you!”

(Proofreader #1 note: I’m beginning to believe the editor. This guy seems to drop sex in the text whenever he thinks readers are about to doze off.)

“You know, I got the very same impression from my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend!” Howard exclaimed, surprised but also pleased. “Why, she will go crazy when you drive up in this beauty!” He took Zack by the arm and pointed off into the horizon. “I can almost picture it. Your gorgeous girlfriend, dressed in a flimsy, but exotic and expensive evening gown, will be standing in front of the luxurious Manoff Hotel. Her eyes suddenly light up as she sees you enter the drive. She waves ever so slightly,...