“Hello,” said a sultry female voice in my ear. “What are you wearing?”

“I am wearing,” I said, “a purple and green polka-dotted clown suit, with a big yellow ruff collar and huge white pompom buttons down the front.”

“Oh, that’s so sexy,” my caller whispered.

“—And also,” I continued, “black men’s socks with black kneegarters to hold them up. On my feet I am wearing huge rubber flip-flops. The socks,” I added, by way of explanation, “have been slit so that the thong of the flip-flops will fit between my big toe and my second toe.” There was a low moan as I paused for effect.

“Do you know what I’m wearing on my head?” I asked.

“A rainbow-colored wig?” said the husky, familiar voice.

“No.” I could hear her breathing, as I paused again to let the anticipation build.

“An arrow through the head,” I said.

“Oh, Jesus, I’m so turned on,” my caller gasped hoarsely.

“What are you wearing?” I asked.

“Nothing but a cock ring,” she purred.

“And is it the cock ring that inflates into a seahorse inner tube, or is it the one that has coat hangers projecting out from it like the spokes of a wheel, that you can attach spare change and dollar bills onto?” I said relentlessly.

“The one with the coat hangers.”

“All right,” I continued evenly. “Here’s my fantasy:

“You’re standing on a street corner aggressively panhandling the passersby. As you follow someone down the street, screaming obscenities, I run out from an alley and knock you down, leaving you to flail helplessly in the gutter, while I steal all the spare change and dollar bills from your cock ring, and run away laughing.”

“Of course you’re laughing, for God’s sake,” she snapped, “you’re a clown. Clowns always laugh.”

Click.

I had started out the evening alphabetizing my fiction, but had gotten sidetracked into rereading the good parts of Pride and Prejudice instead, when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

A pleasant, unfamiliar male voice said, “Hello, who’s this?”

“I,” I said, “am the King of the Cats. Who are you?”

“Uh, my name’s Bob,” he said, sounding a little nonplussed. Picking up confidence from my silence, however, he continued: “and I just wanted to tell you that I have a huge, nine-inch-long cock that I’d like to—”

“Don’t you want to know what I’m wearing?” I said in an offended tone.

“Uh…what are you wearing?”