Dog Training The American Male Part 5

"You also carry a lower center of gravity and child-bearing hips to keep you balanced. I'm lanky. Plus I'm fighting the effects of a devastating football injury that ended my collegiate career."

"What collegiate career? You played one year on the practice squad."

"Exactly. We battled the ones everyday! You saw Rudy. You saw what that poor kid had to endure. There are pieces of me scattered across every inch of turf at Wellington Business School. Thank G.o.d I was blessed with a mind as well as athletic talent. Thank G.o.d."

Helen rolled her eyes.

Jeanne called out, "Hey, doc, I'll give you three to one odds on one of those mint cleansings of yours if you nail the split."

"You're on!"

HAVING FORFEITED FROM the compet.i.tion, Jacob and Nancy were seated next to each other at the end of the wrap-around bench, engrossed in conversation.

"Is Jeanne always this compet.i.tive?"

"Always," Nancy said.

"Vince, too. It gets obnoxious after a while."

"I suppose everyone has their baggage to carry." Glancing at Jacob's wrist watch, she noticed it was dive watch. "Are you certified?"

"Did Vince tell you that? Sure, I have a few phobias, but I've never been committed."

"No . . . no, not certifiable-certified. As in diving." She pointed to his wrist. "That is a dive watch, right?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess it is."

"How often do you dive?"

"Oh, I've never been diving. The watch was a gift from one of the managers at Lehman Brothers."

"The investment firm?"

"Yeah. I designed a lot of their software. I had no idea they were using my programming to camouflage their accounting gimmicks. b.a.s.t.a.r.ds went bankrupt owing me millions in stock options and bonuses."

"That's terrible."

"Tell me about it. I had to testify before a Congressional committee. It was around that time when a lot of my phobias started coming out." Jacob looked up as Vinnie yelled, "Suck b.a.l.l.s!" his brother missing the spare.

"Jacob, have you ever had therapy?"

"Mostly just on-line chat-rooms. It helps."

"What about therapy from a real professional?"

"When I was younger. My mother sort of screwed me up at an early age."

"What happened?"

"It's a little embarra.s.sing."

"I'm a psychologist. I seriously doubt you could shock me."

"My father was in the Armed Forces; he committed suicide when I was six."

"I'm sorry. Post traumatic stress?"

"Yeah. Anyway, Ma was pretty upset by the whole thing, so she made up this convoluted story about Dad being killed in a horrible accident. It really screwed with my head."

"What did she tell you?"

Jacob blushed. "I can't. It's too embarra.s.sing."

Nancy smiled. "Oh, come on-how bad can it be?"

"Pretty d.a.m.n bad."

Nancy hesitated, then leaned in and kissed him, her tongue swirling around his before slowly pulling out.

Jacob opened his eyes. "Wow."

"I have trust issues, Jacob. Men who are vulnerable are easier for me to trust."

"I'm your man . . . that's definitely me."

"Then take a chance and trust me. Tell me what your mother told you about your father's death that screwed you up so badly."

Jacob hesitated, then smirked. "She told me our last name had been Riesfeldt-she changed it to Cope after Dad's death so that we could cope with the accident that killed him. She said my father-Friedrich Riesfeldt was a famous zookeeper and that he was needed in Germany to help a very sick elephant that was constipated. She said Dad got drunk on the plane ride over and ended up giving the elephant too much animal laxative. Dad pa.s.sed out and the animal let loose, burying my father beneath two hundred pounds of pachyderm p.o.o.p."

"Oh my." Nancy covered her mouth, hiding her grin. "And you believed her?"

"I was young, plus the story was all over the Internet-she showed me the picture." Jacob took out his iPhone and did a quick search for zookeeper Friedrich Riesfeldt.

Sure enough, dozens of reference articles appeared, several under the "Darwin Awards," a spoof award presented to those suffering the dumbest deaths imaginable.

(Paderborn Germany) Overzealous zookeeper Friedrich Riesfeldt fed his constipated elephant Stefan 22 doses of animal laxative and more than a bushel of berries, figs and prunes before the plugged-up pachyderm finally let fly -- and suffocated the keeper under 200 pounds of p.o.o.p! Investigators say ill-fated Friedrich, 46, was attempting to give the ailing elephant an olive oil enema when the relieved beast unloaded on him like a dump truck full of mud. "The sheer force of the elephant's unexpected defecation knocked Mr. Riesfeldt to the ground, where he struck his head on a rock and lay unconscious as the elephant continued to evacuate his bowels on top of him," said flabbergasted Paderborn police detective Erik Dern. "With no one there to help him, he lay under all that dung for at least an hour before a watchman came along, and during that time he suffocated."It seems to be just one of those freak accidents that happen."

"Oh my G.o.d, the woman's diabolical. But Jacob, you do know the story's not real."

"I was a kid. You see the name and the photo and your father's gone and what was I supposed to believe? Vin waited two years before letting me know my mother had made the whole thing up. Of course, by that time you can imagine how screwed up I was. To this day, I still can't go to the circus or zoo. I only started voting Democrat two presidential elections ago."

"Because of the elephant symbol?"

"Because of Sarah Palin. The woman's bat-s.h.i.t crazy."

"Palin or your mother? Sorry, I shouldn't judge."

"Ma was hurting. I found out years later that my father had been having an affair. I guess she wanted to taint my memory of him. h.e.l.l hath no fury like a p.i.s.sed-off Jewish mother."

Nancy reached out and held Jacob's hand. "Thank you for sharing your story with me. One day, if I get over my own fears, I may share my own father's story with you."

"Did he molest you or something?"

"Nothing like that."

"Was he a zoo keeper?"

"No, and stop guessing. After you lost your job with Lehman Brothers, what did you do?"

Jacob exhaled. "Boy, that's a long story. Right now, I'm working as an I.T. tech in Boca. It's just a filler job. I've been training for a far more lucrative career."

"Programming a.n.a.lyst for the C.I.A.?"

"Close. Ventriloquist."

Nancy laughed. "I'm sorry. I've never actually met a ventriloquist before. Show me some ventriloquism."

"I can't. Not without my dummy."

"I'll be your dummy." She scooted next to him, resting her legs over his thighs. "There. Now slide your hand behind my neck and I'll mouth your words."

Jacob slipped his right hand beneath her blonde hair, his eyes focused on her tight jeans and exposed thong panties. "Normally I'd have my George Bush dummy on my lap, so pretend you're President Bush. So, President Bush, can you tell us any personal details about your two terms in office?"

Jacob maneuvered Nancy's jaw as he threw his voice, imitating the former president. "Heck yeah, Jacob. One time, me, Vice, and Rummy got snowed in on a hunting trip and had to sleep together in the same tent. Naturally, as the Decider, I decided to take the middle where it was warmest. Anyway, about three in the morning Rummy and Vice start moaning, waking me up. So I said, 'hey Cheney, what gives?' d.i.c.k says, 'Mr. President, I just had a wet dream . . . I dreamt I was getting a hand job from a beautiful psychologist.' Rummy says, 'That's amazing, Mr. President, I just had the same wet dream.' Then I said, 'Heck, fellas, you two sure are lucky. All I dreamed about was skiing.' See, he was gripping the poles . . ."

Nancy laughed, hysterical. "You're really good. A beautiful psychologist, huh?"

"Yes. And no amputees. All four limbs intact."

"My four limbs are intact." Reaching between her legs, she rubbed his inner thigh. "So, how did you know I like skiing?"

VIN WATCHED NERVOUSLY as Jeanne prepared to take her approach. "Money shot, Jeanne. Try to focus. By the way, how's the yeast infection holding up? Hope you're not chafing."

"Thanks to you, she's minty-fresh," Lana answered.

Jeanne unleashed her shot like a Greek G.o.d hurtling hail at a cl.u.s.ter of frightened mortals, the ball skimming the slick wood surface before blasting the pins into an orifice of fallen ivory.

"Game, strike, and match. Let's see if I can bake this turkey in the oven."

"Hey, Vin, we're going to go."

The two couples turned to find Jacob and Nancy wearing their street shoes, ready to leave.

"Jacob's going to drive me home," Nancy announced.

"You go, girl." Lana hugged her sister.

Vince exchanged a knuckle-punch with his younger brother. "Whatever gets you through the night, John Lennon."

Jacob nodded, then led his date outside where his chariot awaited.

ONE MONTH LATER...

WOWF - AM.

"I need your help, listeners. As you know, I have a new man in my life-George. George and I met on a blind date about a month ago at a bowling alley and we've been seeing each other pretty steadily ever since. Well, George's sublet is up and he needs to move out, and I've been sharing an apartment with my sister and her significant other and I need to move, so naturally George and I have been talking about possibly moving in together into a two bedroom rental. Is it too soon? Call in and tell me what you think. Our land line is 561-222-WOWF, or you can text star-WOWF on your mobile phone."

Nancy glanced across her radio booth at Patricia Kieras. Situated behind gla.s.s in the control room, her producer's face was buried behind a paperback copy of Shades of Gray. "I see my producer, Trish is signaling me that we have open lines. Did I mention that my boyfriend is an adult entertainer? Wait, that sounded bad. What I meant is that he's an up-and-coming comedian but his humor is geared more for adults."

A yellow light illuminated on the control board. Without moving her book, Trish took the call, wrote something on a flash card, then held it up against the gla.s.s part.i.tion.

LINE 1. BOYNTON - RACHEL.

"And we have our first caller; Rachel from Boynton Beach. Good afternoon, Rachel, and welcome to the show."

"Yeah . . . I think you should dump this loser, George, and go out with a real man. I know this guy, Arnoldo . . . he's got his own trailer out in Loxahatchee by the sugar fields and-"

"Thank you, Rachel." Nancy hung up on Lynnie and took the next call. "Christine, from West Palm, welcome to Life's a Beach."

"Hi, Dr. Beach. Weren't you living with a guy who cheated on you?"

"My fiance, Sebastian. He was sleeping with my roommate, Carol. What's your point? You think it's too soon? Sebastian and I dated for eight months and we never lived together."

"My point is-if you live in sin then you'll pay the price. My advice is to pray to the Holy Trinity and wait until you're married to share your bed with a man."

"Thank you, Christine. Our next caller is from Boca. Hi, caller, to whom am I speaking?"

"It's your mother. Who's this George? I thought you were seeing Jacob?"

The blood drained from Nancy's face. "Thank you, mother. Yes, listeners, my boyfriend's name is really Jacob. I was just trying to be discrete-"

"Your sister tells me he's a Jew."

Oh, G.o.d. "Yes, Mom. Is that a problem?"

"It wouldn't be my first choice, but I suppose it could be worse-look at your sister, for heaven's sake. Actually, I prefer a Jew over your last boyfriend . . . what was the little Spanish p.r.i.c.k's name?"

"Sebastian, and let's keep it clean."

"If you recall, I warned you about him, he had a wandering eye. The Jew . . . he's not a doctor, is he?"

"No, mother."

"Too bad. I'm leaving on a cruise and need a prescription called in."