The Lovers, in Bed
Rachel McKibbens


If I got smooshed in a car crash and I lost one whole leg, would you still like
to kiss me? asked the woman. Of course, said the man, and I’d lick

your fuzzy little kneecap, every night before bed. The woman was only
slightly satisfied. Then: What if I were walking in the woods and a big mean

bear came and gobbled up both my breasts? The man thought for a moment.
Hmmm, would you still have the one leg? The woman bit him on the tit—

Yes, dummy! Of course I’d still have my other leg. She was getting ornery.
Okay, said the man, then yes, I would still want to kiss you, even if you had
no breasts and a lonesome leg.

All right, said the woman, all right. One more question. But you have to be honest.
This time, you have to really say what you would do.

Okay, said the man, shoot. The woman waited. She was almost afraid of
the answer. She bit the inside of her cheek. Then: What if I fell into a

vat of acid and all my skin melted off? She looked into the man’s eyes
without blinking. He waited. Yes, my love. I would still like to kiss you.

Even if all of your skin melted off. The woman looked defeated. She wanted
to sock him in the kisser. Instead: But what if all my vital organs started

oozing through the bars of my ribcage? Aha! She had him this time. Easy,
said the man, I’d string them together with a fat satin sash so they’d hang

inside you like a wet chandelier. Then I’d top it off with a big bow wrapped
around your sweet bone of a puss. The woman blushed. What color ribbon
would you use? she demanded.

Kumquat, said the man.

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