Trent Moorman Regrets Telling a Nun to Suck His Balls
I regret telling a nun to suck my balls. It was an accident. She pulled out right in front of me without looking, and I swerved into oncoming traffic to avoid a collision. There had been a light rain, I was going about 50 miles per hour, and I thought I was going to die. The life that flashed before me in that instant was not a life, but a scene: A team of burlesque dancers was there, bumper boat riding with a bunch of Sufi-type elder men in diapers dressed up like Papa Smurf. The men had white dreads and their leather skin was dyed blue.
The dancers wore nun habits and garter belts, and the Papa Smurfs pounded Everclear Jell-O shots, trying ineffectively to grab and lick the women. Also, Eddie Money's 1978 runaway hit "Baby Hold On" played. (It was literally playing on my car radio.) The bumper boats listlessly bounced off each other while the inebriated Sufi men groped and attempted to hump with quick, convulsive pelvic jabs. The burlesque nuns made "Eeeew" sounds, driving their inflated mini-boats while at the same time positioning their bodies into old-timey, classic, dame-like sex poses that balanced on the line between "okay for the kids to see" and "this is about dirty sex and involves positions such as the stogie-alfredo."
One of the Sufis hopped from his bumper boat into my bumper boat and started speed-humping me like a toy poodle with a wang half its size going to town on a deflated kickball. Money's platinum voice sang, "Baby hold on to me, whatever will be, will be/The future is ours to see, so baby hold on to me." I was like, "Dude, you can't be humping me; I'm not even here. I'm crashing a car because some blind fucker going two miles per hour who's never driven before pulled out in front of me."
I remember thinking, "Of all the songs to go out to, mine is Eddie Money." I would have wanted it to be something languid and warm, like Boards of Canada's "Constants Are Changing." But no collision occurred, and no one was in the approaching lane of traffic. Half a mile later, I pulled up next to the car at a stoplight. My cortisol levels were white-knuckled and spiked. I rolled down my window (theirs was cracked) and hurled an enunciated yell: "SUCK MY FUCKING BALLS, YOU DUMBASS. HAVE YOU NEVER FUCKING DRIVEN BEFORE?" Then I saw that it was a nun.
Without turning to look at me, she hit the up button on her power window and rolled it up. When the light turned green, she drove off, going two miles per hour. I sat there until the car behind me honked. Please forgive me, whatever Gods are out there. I could have conveyed my message without the fuck and balls part.