The Thong Also Rises by Jennifer L. Leo Page B

exploded with laughter.
    â€œOh please!” said Aphid. “This is not a joke, what does it really say?”
    â€œI’m not a hundred percent sure but I think it says something about drug interactions and remaining calm. Gently you have to avoid to assume a frightening behavior. ”
    â€œWhat?” said Aphid looking puzzled.
    â€œNever mind, it’s a translation thing…”
    Grace continued to laugh.
    â€œLook Aphid,” I said, “you need to relax. Grace, can you heat up some milk?”
    â€œWarm milk? For what, a compress of sorts?” asked Grace.
    â€œOh jeeze no, I just thought it might be relaxing for him to drink.”
    â€œOh right—brilliant—good idea,” said Grace. “And then maybe we can give him some soothing thoughts—you know power of suggestion and all that—it could be beneficial for him to think of things that are not sexy.”
    â€œThings that are not sexy? That sounds like a Jeopardy category—I’ll take things that are not sexy for $500!”
    Aphid groaned and held his head in his hands.
    â€œWell let’s give it a try,” said Grace. “Arthur dear, try to relax and concentrate on our words. I’ll go first…how about…ducks?”
    â€œDucks?”
    â€œYes, ducks”
    â€œO.K. how about…porridge?” I said.
    â€œOh yes, that’s quite good, that’s not sexy at all. My go. I’ll say…flannel.”
    â€œLentils.”
    â€œHair-nets.”
    â€œMustard.”
    â€œTongue depressors.”
    â€œSalami.”
    â€œSalami?”
    â€œOh sorry,” I said. “But I’m getting kind of hungry.”
    â€œKnee socks,” said Grace.
    We fired off words as if we were in the speed round of some demented game show.
    But before I could give my next soothing thought, Aphid stood up and screamed—“For God’s sake, this is ridiculous! Besides, actually I quite fancy knee socks. But nonetheless, I would like to go to hospital now.”
    At the hospital Grace and Aphid stood silently behind me as I tried to explain the exact nature of Aphid’s problem. Although I was supposedly a Level II Italian student, my vocabulary was not equipped to convey all the details accurately. I couldn’t recall the word for penis or even a slang term, so I made up words as I best I could to describe the situation:
    â€œ Il poinger non va via. È va su e sopra ma no va giu ”
    â€œ Che cosa? ” What? asked the admission clerk.
    â€œ Lui ha un grande problema con sua pee pee. Lui bisogna aiuto. ” He needs help.
    I wondered if there was an international signal for “erectile distress” and what it possibly could be. In desperation, I resorted to hand gestures and began an elaborate pantomime. My impromptu floor show caused a sensation and everyone in the admissions area started laughing at what can best be described as a sort of Martha Grahamesque piece on fertility rites gone horribly awry. Eventually a doctor who spoke English was called down to see Aphid. Il Dottore took Aphid away and gave him some kind of shot and il grande poinger retreated.
    Grace and Arthur returned to Melbourne with the majority of their dignity intact. But I was left to negotiate the streets of Perugia on my own, still too embarrassed to walk past the hospital for fear of running into anyone who might recognize me from my performance. I was trying very hard to avoid a frightening behavior , but it was going to take some time.
    Marcy Gordon operates a marketing and publicity consulting firm, Bocca della Verita, which provides marketing services to travel guidebook publishers. She is a contributing editor to the new Authentic Tuscany series published by the Touring Club of Italy, which she also co-designed and developed in less-than-pefect Italian. Ms. Gordon spends unequal parts of the year in California and Italy. She is a graduate of the University