I LOVE BOOBIES
by Joe Average
Please imagine this story as though it had been filmed in black and white, before a live studio audience...
Fred Mertz called to Ricky Ricardo, who was in the bedroom getting ready to go out. "C'mon, Rick, hurry up! We're gonna miss the Jayne Mansfield double feature!"
Ricky emerged, putting on a casual windbreaker. "What's the hurry, Fred? Jayne won't mind."
"Yeah, but I will, Rick!" teased Fred. "I hate to miss any part of a Jayne Mansfield movie. And there are a couple of parts that I enjoy more than the others!"
Ricky smiled broadly. "I know what you mean, amigo," he laughed. "Double feature, eh?"
"Well, all of Jayne Mansfield's movies are double features, if you know what I mean!" laughed Fred. He slapped Ricky on the back as they walked out of the Ricardos' little New York apartment.
From the kitchen, a woman's voice was heard.
"Ricky?"
Ricky's red-haired wife Lucy emerged from the swinging door to the kitchen. "Ricky, are you in here? I could've sworn I heard him."
There was one short knock on the apartment door, and Lucy's friend Ethel entered. "Lucy, is Fred down here? I can't find him anywhere at our place."
"That's funny," mused Lucy. "Ricky, too. Maybe they're somewhere together."
"I got a feeling I know where," called Ethel, spotting an open newspaper. She picked it up to show Lucy. "Look right here."
JAYNE MANSFIELD DOUBLE FEATUREEnjoy Jayne's charms at our special matinee |
"Huh!" Lucy sniffed. "Imagine. What has Jayne Mansfield got that we don't?"
Ethel looked at Lucy, incredulous. "I can think of at least two things!"
"Oh, Ethel! That can't be it," sniffed Lucy. "After all, we've got 'em, too."
"Yeah, but they don't all come in Jayne's size!" argued Ethel.
"You think?" asked Lucy. "That's what's bringing them to the movies?"
"Sure!" said Ethel. "Think about it. Who are their favorite movie stars?"
"Well, let me see ... Jayne Mansfield, Marilyn Monroe, Jane Russell..." began Lucy.
"Uh huh," said Ethel. "TV stars?"
"Well, Ricky likes that Faye Emerson, who wears those darling gowns..."
"What kind of gowns?" challenged Ethel.
"Oh, you know, dear," said Lucy. "The neck goes down to..." She stopped dead, realizing she was gesturing on her chest.
"And at Thanksgiving, what does he ask for first?" said Ethel, finishing her quiz.
"Well, Ricky always asks if he can have a great, big — eeeeewwwwww," said Lucy, making a face. "I'm starting to see what you mean."
"And I get the same stuff from old lover-boy Fred," said Ethel, folding her arms. "It's like everything else — they like big Cinemascope movies, big Cadillac cars..."
"And big Cadillac women!" said Lucy.
"With headlights," muttered Ethel. "What are we supposed to do?" Ethel flopped down on the couch.
"If we were ... put together like Jayne..." began Lucy as she sat down next to Ethel.
"Yeah?"
"...the boys would stay home?" She turned toward Ethel.
"Are you kidding?" shot Ethel. "If I had what she had, my Freddy would only come out of the apartment once a month! To collect the rent!"
"And Ricky wouldn't be looking at those chorus girls down at the club!" said Lucy, with excitement. "I got it!"
Ethel gave Lucy's chest a withering look. "Oh, no you don't!"
"No, no," said Lucy. "I know what we can do!"
"Do?" marveled Ethel. "Are you crazy? This is all they had on hand for us when things like that were passed out! There's nothing we can do!"
"Ethel, do you remember when the boys told us we wouldn't last two minutes without our modern conveniences?"
"Yeah?"
"And we baked our own bread to show we could be like pioneer women?"
"Sure. So?"
"Remember how that bread shot out of the oven?" Lucy said, getting a little wild-eyed. "It practically pinned us against the wall!"
"Yeah," said Ethel. "Too much yeast, I guess."
Lucy snapped her fingers. "Exactly! Too much yeast!" She made her way to the kitchen so fast you'd have thought her panties were on fire.
"What are you thinking, Lucy?" Ethel called after her.
Lucy stuck her head back into the living room. "If it works on bread, it could work on us!" She hurried back into the kitchen.
Ethel thought a minute. "It's almost crazy enough to work! Lucy! Wait for me!" She joined her friend.
In the men's room at the Bijou Theatre, Fred knocked on the door of the stall. "Come on, Rick! We're missing part of the movie! Jayne's wearing that low-cut sweater and stretch pants!"
"One minute, Fred," called Ricky, and there was a silence. Then, suddenly a huge exhalation of breath. "Hey, Fred. Gimme a roll of toilet paper from the next stall."
"Sure, Rick," he said, and handed it over. "You know, Ricky, I always thought thought Latin men liked big bottoms."
Ricky came out of the stall, zipping his fly and wiping his hands with the toilet paper. "You're thinking of Brasil. I am Cubano! You know, Fred..." Ricky looked wistfully into the distance.
"What is it, Rick?" said Fred, trying to snap him out of it.
"If only our wives had..."
"What Jayne has?"
"Yeah! Wouldn't that be nice?"
"Well, Rick — believe it or not, my Ethel does!" said Fred.
"Really?" Ricky asked.
"Sure! Ethel Mertz has just as much as Jayne Mansfield! Only thing is..." Fred shook his head. "Most of it's settled in the wrong places!"
Ricky laughed long and hard. "Okay, amigo, I'm ready for more. Let's go!"
"Atta boy," said Fred. "Yeah, if I could just take some and re-locate it...!" They headed back to their seats.
In the Ricardos' kitchen, Lucy and Ethel stared at the package of yeast. "Do we eat it, or rub it on ourselves?" Lucy wondered.
"Gee, I don't know," said Ethel. "Maybe we should try both."
"You eat it," Lucy said, pulling her sweater over her head, "and I'll rub it on my chest."
"Okay," replied Ethel, spooning it into her mouth. "Yechhh. Not much fun there."
"Well, rubbing it on myself could be fun," said Lucy, unfastening her pointy bra.
"Need any help?" offered Ethel.
"Sure!" chimed in Lucy. "You can reach places I can't!"
"Don't forget, we're only trying to make your chest bigger," cautioned her friend.
"Ethel, do you feel anything in your chest after eating the stuff?" Lucy asked.
"Nope. A big nothin'," answered Ethel. "Here, let me rub the yeast on you."
Ethel poured some on her hands like talcum powder and gave Lucy's bust a thorough rubdown. "That's good," hissed Lucy.
"Whattaya mean, that's good?" Ethel wanted to know.
"I mean, it might work!" snapped Lucy. "Keep going."
Ethel covered every inch of surface area. "You know, Lucy, maybe they need heat. That would simulate the oven effect more."
Lucy's eyes were closed. "Sure, stimulate whatever," she whispered.
Ethel wiped the yeast off her hands and rubbed more vigorously, trying to create heat. Lucy nearly screamed.
Ethel stood back. Now it was her turn to scream.
Just as it had done to the bread, the combination of yeast and heat made Lucy's bust shoot to the wall. Ethel had to duck out of the way.
"Wow!" Ethel finally said. "Will you look at that?"
Lucy opened her eyes. "Whoa! Whoa!" she tried to jump up and down and nearly keeled over. She ran to embrace Ethel, who ducked out of the way.
"Oh, Lucy, Ricky is going to be beside himself!" gushed Ethel as she handled the fruits of their labor.
"Oh, gosh, Ethel," said Lucy. "I'm so excited! Won't Ricky be pleased? But ... Ethel ... did it work for you?"
Ethel looked forlornly downward. "Nope. No such luck," she moaned. "I guess it doesn't work if you eat it. Only if you rub it."
"I'd better try to pull a sweater over these," Lucy cried as she scampered into the bedroom.
"Careful! You'll put someone's eye out!" called Ethel, as she sat on the couch. At that moment, the apartment door opened.
"I'll see you in a minute, Fred," Ricky said to his friend. "I gotta change slacks. I've ruined the front of these." He stopped short when he noticed Ethel. "Oh. I'm sorry, Ethel. I didn't know you were here!"
"Neither did your friend Mister Movie Fan, did he?" Ethel said, scornfully referring to her husband Fred.
"Sorry, honey-bunch," said Fred. "We went to the movies."
"But did you come to the theatre? Yeah, we know," said Ethel. "Go on, Ricky. Lucy's in the bedroom."
"Okay. I'll be right back, Fred," said Ricky, shuffling into the other room.
Ethel just sat and waited. She knew what was coming.
Ricky's enthusiastic Cuban cheer was heard from behind the bedroom door. "Lucy! Look at those two big Babalus!" A high-pitched scream from Lucy provided a hint as to what would follow.
Ethel smiled. Fred approached her on the couch. "Honey-bunch? What happened?"
"Sit down, Fred," said Ethel, not unkindly. "Lucy had another crazy idea, and this one worked. At least it did halfway."
"What do you mean?" Fred asked.
"She had an idea to make us more like Jayne Mansfield for you boys," Ethel chuckled. "It worked for her. Not for me."
"Oh, yeah?" said Fred. "Not for you, huh? Well ... honey-bunch, I don't care about that."
Ethel looked thunderstruck. "You don't?"
"No!" Fred insisted. "As long as you ... well ... Ethel?"
"Yes?"
"Would you come back to the movie theatre with me? We could sit in the back ... watch Jayne ... and you could..." Fred took Ethel's hand. "...help me with a little problem."
Ethel smiled. Then she started to giggle. "Yeah? Freddy-boy — I'd love to. And maybe after I do..." Her hand started wandering lower.
"What, sugar?"
"Maybe it won't be such a little problem anymore!"
"Yeah, maybe!" Fred laughed. "You know, I do love you, honey-bunch!" Fred gave her a kiss and headed for the door.
"Oh, Fred," Ethel said, smiling warmly. "You act gruff, but you're really just an old softie!"
Fred turned back to her. "Yeah, and I'll bet you can do something about that, too!" He scampered out of the apartment with Ethel chasing after him amorously.
After a moment, two voices could be heard once more coming out of the bedroom.
"Loooooooo-cy!"
"Oh, Ricky!"
THE END
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8:00 MARY MUCH MORE — Comedy 8:30 THE BOOBY BUNCH — Family Comedy |