Every Saturday, we’ll be posting a new illustration by David Lester. The Mecca Normal guitarist is visually documenting people, places and events from his band’s 26-year run, with text by vocalist Jean Smith.
“It was something my father said to my mother and she thought it was so funny,” Frank says as they cross Veronica’s deck to the side door.
“Was there a context?” asks Veronica, searching her purse for the keys. “Would he typically say something about using his penis to unlock the trunk of a car?”
“No,” says Frank, standing at the door, grocery bags hanging from both his hands. “That’s what she found funny about it.”
“Would he have used the word penis?” asks Veronica, sliding the key into the lock.
“Yes. That’s what was so funny to her, I think.”
Inside, Veronica puts away her groceries. Frank lies down on the bed. Veronica lies down beside him.
“My mother has a wonderful laugh,” Frank says. “I wouldn’t have realized it if I hadn’t told you the story, but yes, she has a wonderful laugh.”
“What’s it like?” Veronica asks, knowing that Frank can’t see her face with the light from the doorway behind her. She wants Frank to imitate his mother’s laugh. Veronica stays still, nearly invisible in the darkness.
“She puts one hand over her mouth when she laughs,” Frank says, bringing his head up off the pillow, putting a hand in front of his mouth. “Like this,” he says, and laughs warmly.
“I think this would make a very good fable,” Veronica says. “About a man who makes a comment about opening the trunk of his car with his penis. The man says it was something his father said to his mother, something she found funny. He lies on the bed and recalls his mother’s laugh, and his girlfriend says it’s wonderful to watch a son realize that his mother has a wonderful laugh.”
“Are you saying that you’re my girlfriend?” Frank asks.
“Yes,” says Veronica. “But I’m not really sure what makes a fable a fable. I was thinking more about the part of trying to open the trunk with a penis. If I added something about stone soup. Do you know the story of stone soup?”
“Sort of, but not really,” says Frank. “How does it go?”
“A woman knocks on the door of a stranger’s house and asks the man who answers if she can make stone soup over his fire.”
“And this to you is like trying to open the trunk of a car with a penis?” says Frank, laughing how he laughs, which is a little bit like how his mother laughs, without the hand though.
“The man says he has nothing to add to the soup,” Veronica continues. “But he’s curious, so he invites the woman in. The woman gets the water boiling, drops in the stone and asks if there might be an old onion or a sprig of parsley around. The man reluctantly brings out an onion, and the woman says something about how much a few beans would add to the soup and, in this way, more food arrives, and in the end they enjoy a very fine soup together.”
“When did you decide to be my girlfriend?”
“Right around the time I turned the lion and the baboon into a giraffe and an elephant, I suppose,” says Veronica. “Maybe a bit before that.”
