The Butch In Question
Part I
Peggy J. Herring
“What’s that noise?” Robin asked. She turned down the radio in the car so she could listen. “I hear flapping.”
“Pull over. We have a flat.”
“A flat? We can’t have a flat! This is a new car!”
“Like that makes a difference to a tire. Pull over.”
Robin stopped the car on the shoulder and got out. “It’s too dark to see.”
“Where’s your flashlight?” Tara asked.
“Flashlight? New cars come with a flashlight?”
“No,” Tara said with a laugh. She got out of the car and opened both doors on the passenger’s side, which gave them enough light to tell which tire was flat.
“Oh, look,” Robin said. “We do have a flat.”
“Where’s your owner’s manual?” Tara asked. “We have to change it.”
“Not hardly. I’ll call my auto club.”
“Do you even know where we are?” Tara asked. “You have to give them a location before they can help.” When she got no answer she just shook her head. “Whatever gave you the idea that you’re butch?” Tara wondered out loud. “No flashlight. Jeez. Let me guess. You don’t even know where the jack is, right?”
Part II
Therese Szymanski
“Of course I know where the jack is! It’s in the trunk!” Robin said.
“Then why don’t you pull it out, so we can get this show on the road?”
Robin popped open the trunk and stared inside. “Um, I think they forgot to put it in here.” She stared at the cell phone she still had in her hand.
“That’s not going to do us any good,” Tara said. “And I can’t believe you don’t know where the jack is.” She walked up beside Robin, pulled up the carpeting in the trunk and quickly opened up the tire well. She reached in, and said, “This is a jack. And this is a crowbar.”
“Damn, I always wondered what one of those looked like!” She took the tools from Tara while Tara flipped through the owner’s manual, looking for instructions on how to change a tire.
Robin grabbed the book and shoved it into her pocket. “You just said I’m a butch, and butches don’t do instructions.”
Part III
Laura DeHart Young
Tara sighed heavily. “Please let me read the instructions.”
“No!” Robin replied indignantly, stooping onto the ground. “I can damn
well change a flat tire!”
Tara watched in silence as Robin proceeded to fiddle with the jack.
“Say, you may want to...”
“Never mind helping me. I can do it myself.”
“Okay, okay,” Tara said with a shrug. “Whatever you say, my dear.”
Ten minutes later, the car was jacked high into the air. “See! Now all I have to do is remove these nut thingies and we’re home free,” Robin said proudly.
Tara smirked. “Yeah, right.”
Robin grabbed the lug nut wrench and attempted to remove the first nut. The tire spun and spun and Robin became more and more agitated. “How the hell are you supposed to do anything with this teeny wrench they give you? Damnit!”
Tara grabbed the wrench and held it between her crotch. “You have to strap it on first, honey. That’s the secret. Any self-respecting butch knows that!”
“Very funny!”
Tara sat on the ground next to her. “Honey, I hate to tell you this, but you have to remove the nuts first, then jack up the tire.”
Robin looked at her dumbfounded, then looked at the tire. Suddenly, she started to laugh hysterically. “Oh, shit.”
“If you’ll just let me change the tire for you I promise not to tell anyone.”
Robin handed Tara the wrench. “It’s a deal. I’ll stick to what I know best.”
“As soon as we get home,” Tara said with a wink.
“Yeah, so hurry up, will ya?”