(In our last installment, I traveled to Oklahoma City to investigate Senator Tom Coburn’s claims of “rampant” lesbianism in the Oklahoma public high school bathrooms. I enrolled in a public school, posing as a former Catholic schooler who had been expelled for being “bad.” Then, I staked out the bathroom.)
There I was, leaning against a bathroom wall, waiting for some hot girl-on-girl action to break out. So far, though, I only had experienced a few inappropriate glances from the lady principal with the suspicious haircut, and a brief run-in with a schoolgirl who had all the sex appeal of a frightened fawn.
After about an hour in the bathroom, I decided that the Senator was misinformed. I straightened my plaid Catholic school skirt, and crushed a cigarette out with my saddle shoe. I don’t smoke, but it seemed like the only thing to do while hanging out in a high school bathroom.
Just as I was about to leave, and return to Civics class—I was enrolled after all, and was getting into the spirit of things…I even had joined Pep Club and Mathletes!—the door slammed open. I quickly waved away any lingering cigarette smoke, fearing detention and, perhaps, a call to my parents. Wouldn’t they be surprised that their 44-year-old daughter was caught smoking in a high school bathroom in Oklahoma City!
In sauntered what only can be described as a walking dollop of rainbow sherbet. She was wearing a mauve Chanel suit, a helmet of blond hair, and lots of peach lipstick. And, yes, blue eye shadow. She looked like the wife of a Senator—the type of wife who would stand by her family values-loving husband after he got caught getting shtupped by some hairy gent in a fast-food bathroom.
“What are you doing out of class, young lady?” she asked, narrowing her hard, conservative eyes, which seemed to sparkle in delicious alarm as they fell along disheveled lines of my oxford shirt and into my bountiful bosom.
“Waiting for you,” I said, thanking God that the cigarette I just had coughed my way through had lowered my voice to a sexy octave. I hopped up on the windowsill, and stroked my thigh seductively. I once saw this move performed by a bad girl in a ’50s movie, and it was marvelously effective.
“How could you be waiting for me?” she replied. “I’ve been hired by the government to perform surprise checks on high school girl rooms. There is lesbianism going on here, and I intend to stop it!”
I slid off the windowsill with as much grace as a short Catholic girl skirt would allow, and sashayed into her personal space.
“How are you going to stop it when it hasn’t started yet?” I queried.
I grabbed her in one of those girls-in-prison-chained-heat embraces. She put up a half-hearted struggle before finally giving in to my charms. I didn’t particularly care for the overwhelming scent of lilac, but otherwise, it was great fun!
That is, until the principal walked in. At the sound of the principal’s gruff bark, pink lady sprinted to the other side of the room, but there was no hiding our ardor. My face was a mess of smeared peach lipstick.
I got two weeks detention, and the pink lady got drummed out of the Oklahoma Republican Party. I hear that an entire evangelical congregation has made her their personal crusade. She last was seen kneeling on a blanket of hard pinto beans, pleading for forgiveness.
As for me, there’s some buzz about my getting elected Prom Queen!
Hey, I wrote a book! You can buy Dateland on Amazon.