Patisserie

Just A Lil Bit by 50 Cent plays.

(Adult content below)

Lacey fell asleep quickly…woke up to the sound of singing. Truly.

There was also some group of people painting near her house. So…just as her house recovers from her Citristrip disaster and the aftermath…paint fumes filled her house this morning.

It was obnoxious!

“That’s it! That’s it!” yelled Lem to her as she got her kids ready to leave.

He was mad. Mad that Kick woke her up singing to taunt her. Mad that Lacey fell asleep too quickly last night, again. Mad…because the paint was Jack’s idea. His idea of a joke.

As Lacey got a chocolate croissant and a coffee with her kids she told Kick, “I’m allowed to say that you’re all bad in bed. And none of you get to do anything about it. You shouldn’t have put me in a situation where I’d be able to say anything!”

The Theory of Everything by Johann Jóhannsson plays.

And that when Lacey started wondering about Dunker. She read about him just recently. Did Lem try to have a child with Jack that way?

“Lem…was that dog your attempt at intimacy or was that dog your intimacy?” asked Lacey.

“I didn’t necessarily feel that way about it. No. It was…possibly an attempt at having kids with him. But because I had always wanted to be a father. Not because…I felt actual intimacy with him. I didn’t want that dog necessarily even. It might have been Jack’s idea. But…I did want to be a father. And…I might have missed the intimacy or felt it but not…liked it.” says Lem.

The Shawshank Redemption (film score) by Thomas Newman plays.

But Lacey was made to smile by Louis and Michael while she got coffee.

“You do have a very sensitive nose.” said Louis lovingly.

“Ha! Our fathers look so much alike!” said Michael. “In their own way.”

And the moment Louis made Lacey smile…Lem was hurt deeply.

“She’s right. This is…much too far.” said Lem.

“Lem the dog was Jack’s idea? Or you made a baby?” asks Scott. “It looks like gay subculture.”

He thinks.

And as Lem thinks Lacey is lost to Louis. Surpeme…mysterious…overwhelmingly powerful and wealthy…and yet…removed…Louis.

Maybe not permanently. But for a few hours. Because Louis understands and understood.

And Jack standing with Kick near wet paint…with Dunker watches…coolly…like he’s studying his prey. Like him and Kick are freaks from Hell. Menacing, pathetic freaks.

“Kick you were miserable in bed I bet.” says Lacey. “And I bet most Kennedys are.” Lacey eats her chocolate croissant. “You’re such pathetic dogs. All of you? You’re good swimmers…but you have to do doggy style? Missionary position alludes you? Dogs don’t make eye-contact either. …Or what? Maybe that’s where that analogy falls apart. Anyway…I slept with two of you at least. And they’re both basically trash in bed. If I slept with Jack…he’s like a cold, wet blanket at best. He was…worse than trash. You’re all…terrible. And it wasn’t likely to be a reflection on me…at all. No. You’re…likely all conceited, baffled, and lost in bed. Like…you’re…frozen in fear, idiocy and the poverty of your souls… It’s traumatizing to remember. But I’m glad I know the truth. …You’re all obsessed with sex because you’re all terrible at it. And you lie about it in various ways to compensate. …Why do you all have sex so much? …Practice makes perfect?”

No One Knows by Queens Of The Stone Age plays.

Michael laughs.

“It’s practice makes perfect? I doubt it. I think they sleep around to fool people. Like…it keeps people on their toes.” says Lacey.

“We’re amazing in bed!” says Wobbly indignantly. He’s genuinely getting offended.

“So we don’t commit because we’re small penises and ugly faces?” asks Joe Kennedy Senior of Lacey.

“Yes! You and your son are not well endowed.” says Lacey. “And it’s vile I should be able to say you and your son. But I’m innocent and you might not be. …It wasn’t planned by me and of course I thought as we were all adults and…well…it was separated…and…I thought it made sense..that it wasn’t necessarily perverted. Because it wasn’t to me. But…I don’t know.” She thinks. “Regardless…you’re both terrible in bed. And Jack…if he came on to me when I was a teenager and I didn’t realize he was a ghost…not just my imagination…was horrible.”

“Gross!” says Casi.

“Yes! I’m not gross. But they might be.” says Lacey.

“I’m not horrible with men.” says Jack.

“No!! I doubt that!” says Lacey. “Your whole…way of doing it…is just like your brother. You both act like you’re in a musical.”

Kate Spade laughs.

“What do you mean?” asks Kate.

“And Joe Kennedy Senior…gets winded.” says Lacey.

A mob boss from the 1950’s laughs. “He gets winded?!?”

“Yes! He had to pause. To analyze.” says Lacey. “He couldn’t figure out what he was doing at one point. He’s…very in his mind. It’s like a crossword puzzle to him, maybe. And at times you can see on his face that he’s…perplexed.” She thinks. “I bet Janet is inexperienced in her own way…and she just takes it mindlessly and stupidly and was far easier to get off.” She smiles. “Her ecstasy was easier to find. And her orgasms are likely…lowly compared to mine.” She thinks. “But that’s nice that her little rollercoaster ride is fun for her. …Yay!” says Lacey mockingly.

without you by Isabel LaRosa plays.

Janet shakes her ass in the afterlife in the future. She shakes herself backwards towards Joe.

“Awww! Cute!” says Lacey patronizingly. “It’s like…fun!” She claps her hands together. “Yay!!! Yay!! Yay, sex! Yay, Kennedys. Yay, Janet! Oh! Look! She’s getting sex-giggles from Joe’s hard cock!! Yay!” Lacey looks. “It’s like a hiccup compared to what some women are capable of. But…that’s nice that you don’t get confused. Like…microwave food versus actually cooking, huh?” Lacey thinks. “She’s Easy Choice.”

“You get amazing orgasms?” asks Elliott Roosevelt. “You do.” he says to Lacey. “It was fun giving you one or two. …Faye can too.” He thinks. “Most of my wives could, for the most part. But…I’m not an idiot in that way, shall we say.”

“Oh! And Jack…do you actually have sex or just make your penis move?” asks Lacey.

Red Fay laughs.

“Look! Run Jack, run! Except…it isn’t running. But…it might as well be with him. It’s so…so…so…nothing.” says Lacey. “He’s basically a total flop. And so is Joe. Just…like…nothing.” Lacey thinks. “Can you people give your partners orgasms or no?”

No Diggity by Blackstreet plays.

“Yes!! Always!” says Wobbly dancing to No Diggity.

“Really?! Then why did Mary kill herself?” asks Lacey.

“You don’t think she would have if I’d gotten her off?” asks Wobbly.

“No! Orgasms are satisfying.” says Lacey. “Good orgasms. And you can’t steal them from people.”

“What if you’re molested?” asks Lem.

“Then the trick is realizing that they weren’t in your head no matter what they made you feel. True mutual orgasms are all that count. Pediohiles never have true mutual orgasms with their victims. Rape is like that too. Child molesters are better off being castrated…but the trouble is figuring out who’s authentic…and trusting someone to do justly. Not that child molesters deserve pity.”

“I got in your head…but not in that way.” says Elliott to Lacey. “You can only experience the beauty of becoming one…if it’s real. And that’s far rarer than we like to think.”

“I made her cum!” Wobbly says about his wife.

“But really though? Like…really?” says Lacey. “I doubt it. I doubt you can make anyone cum that way.”

“Yes I can!” says Wobbly.

“What’s it like then?” asks Lacey.

He thinks.

“You’re too…dorky to have ever made anyone feel that way.” says Lacey. “And I don’t mean nerdy. I mean…like…a doofus. A dorky buffoon.”

“They act like they’re having a seizure?” says Wobbly.

“Then why don’t you ever- Why aren’t you ever affected by it?” asks Lacey.

“Affected by it?!” asks Wobbly.

“Yes! Why does it seem like you’re an old dorky virgin?” asks Lacey.

“Does it?” asks his wife.

“Yes! And you’re too self-important and vain and yet ugly to know the difference.” says Lacey.

“Yeah! I know what she means.” says a Biden. “Sorry.”

“Oh well. Hopefully they’re not all that afflicted.” says Lacey.

“A musical?!” asks a gay man of Lacey, incredulously.

“You’re talking about an emotional connection?” scoffs a Gen. X man at Lacey.

“That’s the whole point, you idiot.” says Lacey. “I’m embarrassed for you.”

“No! It’s physical!” says a narcissist.

“Yeah! You would say that! But the truth is…it’s always emotional.” says Lacey. “There is no such thing as casual sex. And there is no Santa Claus either, you buffoons.” She thinks. “But there may be a St. Nicholas and there is God and science. Get a clue. You’re all just backwards hicks from Hell in that way at this point.”

“But then should we get a vaccine or not?” asks a middle class woman of Lacey.

“Bed bugs!” says Lacey. “Some vaccines should be safer than others. It depends. It depends on why they poisoned the vaccines in the first place. Was it for the money or for evil designs? Genocide. Population control. Or both the money and evil designs? Yeah? Okay. Then…you monitor the provenance of your vaccines, so to speak. You keep an eye on your vaccines like you would watch a ball game. …And at the end of the day…you pray and trust God to give you grace and strength to endure living in such a decrepit, asinine world as it currently is…”

“Do you vaccinate?” asks a woman of Lacey.

“Yes! Thoughtfully. But yes. For me and my family it’s the safer alternative.” says Lacey.

“Would it vary if your kids were black?” asks a Native American woman of Lacey.

“Yes!” says Lacey. “I’d probably still vaccinate…but with lots of monitoring of my kids before and after to see how they responded.”

“But that’s you as you having black kids!” says a black woman.

“Yes! Very good point.” says Lacey.

The Native American woman smirks. “So…they’re trying to prevent lots of things? Like interracial marriages of some people?”

“In this case they could be up to lots of things.” says Lacey. “That’s the point of thinking with emotional and intellectual honesty.”

“What if you had had kids with Joe Kennedy Junior?” asks the middle class woman.

“Then I’d be worried.” says Lacey.

“Why?” asks a possible Kennedy.

“Because…I’d genuinely wonder if they were trying to kill my kids in some…absurd conspiracy.” says Lacey.

“Would you have thought Lem was trying to kill Wobbly?” asks Lem.

“Wobbly wouldn’t have stayed with Lem and if he did…yes.” says Lacey. “I would wonder if Lem was trying to kill him.”

“And then what?” asks a Kennedy.

“I’d have him institutionalized.” says Lacey.

“Not killed?” says Lem.

“No. You are still you in this case.” says Lacey. “No, I have had you committed to an insane asylum.”

“Yeah! That’s reasonable.” says Lem. “But you also couldn’t be in that exact situation.”

“No! True.” says Lacey.

“So what if we are bad in bed?” asks JFK seriously. “We’re really good-looking. And if we were capable of love it’d be okay. Right?”

“Like…meaningful love? Monogamy?” asks Lacey. “Commitment. Even real, loving polyamory.”

“We are!” says JFK derisively.

“Yeah right. Not without suffering in Purgatory. You’ve all ruined yourselves in that way to do what? Compensate?” asks Lacey. “Save yourselves from your stupidity with evil?”

“Yes!” yells Joe Kennedy Sr..

“That’s too bad.” says Lacey.

She thinks.

VHS Dream by Deerhunter plays.

“It’s not that I’m just trying to heartlessly shame you.” says Elliott Roosevelt to the Kennedys. “It’s just that you’re all…evil by choice and…it’s way past your comeuppance’s due date.”

“You’re in love with your brother? Right?” Lacey asks Kick. “You know…your brother is…-“

“A musical?!??” asks a gay man.

“Yes.” says Lacey. “Okay, you know how performers in musicals are sort of…forced? Like…you have to hold your breath to enjoy them at times? Because musicals are contrived in their melody. Kind of like opera could be of it wasn’t so so-called formal? It’s not free and natural? …Basically it isn’t real. It isn’t real human emotion. It’s just…bullshit.” says Lacey. “But it has elements of the real. …Even if it’s faux realism.”

“Yes!” says the gay man, trying not to be offended.

“So…that’s what they’re like in bed.” says Elliott Roosevelt.

“But how does that manifest?!” asks the gay man.

“It’s unnerving to describe it.” says Lacey. She thinks.

Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush plays.

“It’s like…their movements…are repetitive and yet done without emotional…true intent.” says Lacey. “So not just repetitive but also…dull and lackluster and…tiring.”

“Would Lem be capable of that kind of…sexual impotence?” asks a psychologist.

“Oh and then while they are dull and repetitive they act very hyper emotional and obviously fake to try to be arousing.” says Lacey. “Not naturally.”

“But he can do it unnaturally?” asks the psychologist.

“If he’s in psychological distress he can shut off and perform like most men.” says Louis. “Cold, detached and dull. Compared to what’s possible.”

“What if they make noises and move quickly?” says a lesbian, laughing.

“You and I both know that that’s meaningless and actually rather annoying in objective reality. …The reality we all live in. But…it’s temporarily distracting… If that happens naturally in love…then that’s nice for whoever is consensually doing that as adults if God sanctions it.” says Lacey.

“So…that’s like…umm…just with you? And with other people like Lem…JFK was really good! And…Lem wasn’t sexually unsatisfied because gay relationships-“ a lesbian can’t help but laugh. She controls herself. Calms herself. “No! See…their emotional connection was so good…Jack was better in bed with Lem!!!”

Lacey analyzes that possibility.

“Actually…Lem never got jealous.” says Lacey sarcastically. “When he provided prostitutes and watched Jack with other men…he never got jealous. Except…if he did…or would have…then…that’s-Uh oh!” She thinks. “It’s…weird how he was so devastated when Jack died.”

“Why?” asks the lesbian.

“Because he was sexually keeping them both afloat.” says Lacey. “All while providing prostitutes and always being the one to get off. Or maybe Lem never had sex with anyone but Jack. Or those men were all ugly and terrible in bed or frigid?”

Mozart plays.

“You know…why would he be so happy with Jack? Or in general as an adult? If he never got off?” asks Lacey. “And yet he wasn’t a nun?”

“Maybe he was asexual?” asks a gay man desperately.

“That’s the only excuse. But…that seems so unlikely.” says Lacey. “But then…why would he allow Jack to love other people without getting hurt?”

“Maybe Jack never loved anyone but Lem. And the wedding was a conspiracy? And Lem didn’t realize that people express love through sex? Ever. And see…Jack never cheated with his brother either. Or anyone. Not even Dunker.” says the lesbian.

“Yup! Makes sense to me!” says Lacey sarcastically.

“Uh oh! I made you laugh. I bet to Lem that’s cheating!” says the lesbian.

“No! Only walking backwards is cheating. Ten times. And then hopping once into a pool on Palm Beach on Sundays.” says Lacey. “No, that wasn’t sexual to me. …Except…if it was and it wasn’t…do you think Lem monitored Jack like a hawk on Sundays at Palm Beach or not?”

“Yeah! I bet he was like, ‘Uh oh! It’s Sunday!’ every Sunday morning at 1 am!” says a gay man. He fumes.

“You do realize it’s weird that we’ve ignored the inconsistencies in their supposedly consensual relationship.” says a lesbian about Jack and Lem to the gay man.

The gay man rolls his eyes. “Okay. Whatever!”

“What were the actual differences? Because Lem was unlikely to have been that…aroused by Jack, regardless. And it’s possible he was actually straight.” says Elliott. “And I’m curious. Compare me and Joe!”

Piano Sonata No. 8 In C Minor by Beethoven plays.

“Okay! Joe is very naturally handsome and has a convincing act. But…he doesn’t have anything backing his currency. Jack didn’t really either, if I recall correctly. Neither did Joe Senior, although he was less bankrupt than Joe Junior. He seemed…emotionally unstable in that regard…from a monetary analogy standpoint. But Joe Junior was…homeless. And Jack was dying on the streets.” says Lacey. “Joe…just…acted. They all just…act.”

“You never slept with Arthur Miller?!” asks Gore Vidal of Lacey.

“No! He came on to me once. But no.” says Lacey.

“Okay! Compared to my experience with Elliott…Jack sounds like a bad lay.” says Faye Emerson. “He was…always so…brilliant.” She thinks. “Elliott is like a god in bed.”

“So…could Joe make you orgasm?” asks a lesbian.

“Joe Senior would desperately try. For hours if necessary. Poor sod. …But Joe Junior…no. If I unfortunately slept with Joe Junior…no. He’s hopefully capable of it with Pat!” says Lacey.

“Do you think Jack was capable of making anyone orgasm?” asks a gay man.

“No! He could orgasm…I bet…but he likely…never made someone else orgasm.” says Lacey.

“Too complicated?” asks a gay man.

“Partially…but mostly too much effort.” says Lacey.

Jack thinks. “You would have hurt me.” he says to Lacey.

“Yeah right!” says Lacey.

“No! You would have!” says JFK.

“Where’s Lem?” asks Lacey. “I’d never have slept with you if Lem was someone I knew.”

“Or if I was there…because I wouldn’t have let her.” says Elliott.

“Jack…why Lacey?” asks a gay man.

“She’s…” says Jack. He thinks. “Okay! But if I’d met her on her own…she would have gotten over me before I could hurt her.”

“Yeah. That’s true. Except you could have hurt me.” says Lacey.

“Would you have been devastated if I died?” asks Jack.

“No. I would have thought it was funny.” says Lacey. “I would have cared, but I also would have thought it was funny. You’re such an ass! Your death might be very funny.” says Lacey.

Louis laughs. “I agree.”

“Why?! How is it funny?” asks JFK of Lacey.

“Because you’re a clown.” says Lacey honestly.

“We agreed!” says hundreds of thousands of Jack’s haters from his day.

He looks sad.

“Oh please. Your pain matters but no one else’s does!?!” says Lacey.

“Why is it funny?!” asks JFK.

“Because you just kept chugging along…so…proud.” says Lacey.

Jackie laughs and so does Edith.

“So…brimming with delight in yourself! I mean you saved all those men! My goodness!!! Wow!” says Lacey. “And then…you worked so hard too!” She thinks. “And then…you golfed your way into the White House! Gee whiz, Jack! Oh wow! Look at you!!!!” says Lacey. “And then all those awards! All that credit! You won big time, hot stuff!” She sighs. “But…you kinda…rigged it up wrong. Huh?” She thinks. “And see…logistics and stuffy stuff matter. All that stuff ghost writers do. All that stuff real votes are are supposed to account for if you actually win and don’t buy an election. I’m sure you weren’t alone in buying votes…but…buying too many votes is like auto tune. And…so…uh oh. You…kinda…lost track of the storyline…and…before you knew it…the storyline got the best of ya.” Lacey shakes her head like a poor Norwegian immigrant farmer being Scandinavian. “You had a whole ding ding dong nation of dem immigrants. Kinda like your family. Right?! …But ah…welp….you done did her in! …SHOOT!” says Lacey. “Quite literally, it seems!” She thinks. “See…when you play golf…you don’t stand around camouflaged like the turf…waiting to get hit in the head by balls. That’s not the game. That’s not what they mean when they say to become one with the club, or whatever it is they say. No, not quite Jack. I’m sorry. …See…you hit the ball on the ground…with the club. You hold the club in your hands and then swing. And the ball flies through the air intentionally…yes? But not to hit people, including you.” She takes a deep breath. “No dear…you don’t know golf, so to speak? And that was the problem, no? That you misunderstood and yet in your immense vanity and your father’s immense vanity you…assumed you were ahead of the other players with your…avant-garde techniques and technology?”

“Yup! I relate!” says Ken Lay.

“So do I!” says Bernie Madoff.

“I do not!” says Mr. Astor.

“Neither do I! My son failed but didn’t…honestly.” says Louis Hill Senior.

“Oh! But Kennedys don’t lose!” says Lacey.

“I wasn’t that bad at sex!” says JFK.

“And your father was good at making money…to a point.” says Jackie.

“No! He was good at making money to a point. But…Jack was bad at sex.” says Lacey.

“He got me off!” says Jackie.

“How often?” asks Lacey.

“Once. Five times at most?” says Jackie.

“Lacey orgasmed every time we had sex.” says Elliott.

“How often did you orgasm with Mark, your ex-husband?” asks JFK.

“Six or seven times.” says Lacey. “But that’s because we had a bad marriage.”

“How easily do you orgasm with other ghosts?” asks a Catholic priest.

“It varies. Isn’t that funny?” says Lacey. “Regardless, a orgasm isn’t that difficult if you’re in love.”

“But every time you slept with Elliott…you…orgasmed.” says the Catholic priest.

“Yes! Well…one time I didn’t. But…only once.” says Lacey.

“And not with…anyone else did you orgasm with that consistency?” asks another priest.

“No! Sort of suggests they’re actual men.” says Lacey. “Of course…I don’t know.

“I studied her body. But I also am naturally far smarter than most assume of me today.” says Elliott Roosevelt son of FDR.

“How does intelligence matter?!?” asks the Catholic priest.

“I was an expert in World War II. And I’m a very good pilot.“ says Elliott. “You figure it out! It’s about all the sorts of intelligences combined.”

“But couldn’t a stupid man excel at having sex?” asks the Catholic priest. “That nerds are bad at sex? Isn’t that the myth?”

“Some aren’t stupid in every way. So that’s not stupidity. …And that’s the myth…but not all nerds are truly intelligent.” says Elliott.

“Well…okay.” says the Catholic priest.

“You’re the reason I don’t go to mass.” says Lacey to the priest. “What was the point of that conversation?”

“Well…if I had any good intent God knows.” says the Catholic priest.

“Good!” says Louis Hill Junior.

“No, he was terrible in bed.” says Jackie about JFK.

“Yes! I’m sure.” says Lacey.

“But he did try that once.” she says.

“Well…that’s nice. Did he seem distant?” asks Lacey.

“Yes!” she says in irritation.

“Then how much did he try?” asks Lacey.

“Not that much!” cries Jackie.

“Why are you harassing me?” asks Lacey. “Your bitch-slut ex-husband is a problem.”

“He’s not a…complete loser!” says Jackie.

“Eww! Why lie?” asks Lacey.

“Okay! Well…I had kids with him.” she says.

“Poor you.” says Lacey.

Jackie cries. “How do you get over people like him?”

“You look in the mirror.” says Lacey.

Jackie looks in the mirror. “See I see my flaws.”

“Mmm. But you’re not that hideous!” says Lacey.

“What’s supposed to me?” she asks.

“You’re supposed to have a far better love story. He stole from you!” says Lacey.

“Just…what was…real. You’re right.” she says.

“So if he stole from you…then it’s all a lie.” says Lacey. “And you only lost time. Precious time!!”

“He stole my life!” she says crying.

“You still exist though as very much a separate entity. Right? And Ari Onassis…isn’t nothing?” wonders Lacey.

“He made me famous! And gave me my children. And my years in the White House. But…no. I don’t belong to him.” says Jackie.

“And yet…it feels like you do. What rubbish.” says Lacey.

“It might almost be evil.” says Lem. “If what you just said is true.

A moment later, “More later. Lacey needs a lunch break.” says Lem.

Later.

The Mercy by Johann Jóhannsson plays.

Lacey and Lem may have made love.

But Lacey worries. And so Louis haunts her. And Michael…remains unflappably chivalrous. And Harold sends postcards.

The thing is…it’s all so sad…until Louis forces the Kennedys to bow down to Christ. And Michael rides victoriously in battle. And Lem…weeps.

“Dianne has devotions with you in Heaven?” Lacey asks Ron.

“Yes!” he says grimly. “You know, you’re not supposed to be talking with us.”

“I know. But I don’t know what else to do sometimes. And oftentimes I’m overwhelmed by people’s communications with me.” says Lacey.

“Yeah!” he says sadly.

“I understand!” says Michael. “But you don’t! Right?! You don’t?! ..You were never lonely!” he yells at Lem. “Lem…you can keep making love to Lacey…but until you understand her the way I do…you can’t fully grasp her soul.”

“Or the way I do.” says Louis mournfully.

“Do you even want to?!” Lacey asks Lem.

“Yes!!!” yells Lem.

“So you’re angers?!” asks Lacey.

“I’m sorry.” he says.

“You’re sorry?! For what?!” asks Lacey.

“You’re my love. And I’m irritated that you’d ask that!” says Lem.

“Why?” asks Lacey.

And at that Lem shakes with tears. “I love you more than Jack. Or anyone! But you still wonder.”

“You might not want me.” wonders Lacey.

He laughs. She watches. He stops laughing, pushes his glasses up his nose.

“Yeah…you’re wrong. It’s never ending between us, love.” he says.

More later.