It's a rough game. You win some, you lose some. Sometimes you lose everything. You can lose your soul. It's like a card game and the cards are tarot. All I know is Crazy 8 and the 8 is the symbol for infinity, or maybe karma. And you're the crazy part of the name. What goes around comes around. You want to keep your woman satisfied, because you've been with her at the market and you've seen the men looking at her. Maybe she was a few feet ahead of you as she was looking for some good meat to cook and you saw those guys eyeballing her. Checking out her ass. Looking her up and down. Their mouths watering. Like dogs, these guys. Moments later she's asking you if you feel all right because you're flush and sweating and you could fry an egg on your forehead. You try not to be possessive. You hate that feeling. Your insides crystalize and shatter. That night she wants it a bit rough. Inside her head you imagine she's thinking about being passed around. She might like to think of those kinda things to kick it up a notch. She might need a little humiliation in her fantasy to get off. The dirtier the better, maybe. Pull her hair. Slap her some. Tear her clothes off. She's hinted before. That night she cried and told you about being a cheerleader and getting on the wrong bus. Remember how it made you feel? Remember your mom making you corn flakes and bourbon and saying, "Danny, when a girl's first time is like that she needs a man to take charge to keep her, because that's how we learn. We learn from our first ones," as she snuffed out her Camel in what was left of her eggs and biscuits.

"Sure mom, but Jessica says that maybe that girl just wants a lil' slap and tickle and nothing more."

"Who the hell does she think she is?"

"She's the girl reading over Jerry's shoulder as he tries to figure out what I'm gonna do," Danny whispered looking back to see if Jessica was watching. "Jerry types so slow, mom. Poor Jessica gets bored waiting to find out. I think she needs a more exciting man to write stories in front of her."

"Look baby, I've been with lots of men. Your daddy, Uncle Bobby, and the guys down on the pier, so mommy knows a thing or two. This Jessica sounds to me like an impatient girl and this Jerry sounds like he might be retarded."

"No momma, slow. Slow at typing. That's all."

"He needs to get off his ass and go get some money to support this gal, cause she ain't gonna stick around just for his hot body. He needs to keep her interested and involved in his life, but knowing women like I do, she'll find a way to get her kicks on the side. She'll have her hobbies, her art gallery patrons, cocktail parties, fundraisers, doctors, lawyers, Facebook friends, old school friends…"

"Momma, she ain't like those other girls, she ain't even like my girl. She thinks Jerry can be all she ever wants."

"Baby, lemme ask you something. How many times has this girl been married?"

Danny looks back from the kitchen table through the page and the typewriter over to where Jerry sits and Jessica leans on him.

"Danny, no disrespect to your mother, but she's an idiot!  She doesn't know me at all, and just because these are things she'd consider does not make the same true for me.  Tell ya what, if your mom survives her liquor and tobacco habits, she's invited to Jerry and my 50th anniversary party." Jessica explains.  "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.  Now, let me get back to reading over Jerry's shoulder."

Jerry gives Jessica a look and says, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Just trying to wrap up your blog, Baby.  It's getting cold here barely dressed while I wait for you to finish talking to your imaginary friends, making up stories while a real live girl is right here waiting for you to come play slap and tickle - just for fun."