Confirmed Thinker of Piggish Thoughts Thinks Twice

He watched as she approached his table in the office cafeteria. Where once he had beheld those balletic yet strangely feral movements with thoughts of unbridled lust and, occasionally, the embarrassing presence of spittle on his chin, now he felt only shame.

O disgusting wretch! O cretinous son of the jackal! Would that God would but strike him down on this day for all the impurities that had coursed through his miscreant brain in days past! Would that an assassin’s bullet rip the life from him rather than be forced to endure the stench and filth that now putrefied his soul!

He had watched the Clarence Thomas hearings--God, how could he help but watch them?--and felt undeserving of life. He listened as United States senators, every one of them an upstanding Bible-reading man of substance, decried those who would use such language around women.

What manner of man, these senators said, would speak that way to a woman behind closed doors? What subspecies of life would discuss X-rated movies or one’s sexual prowess with a member of the opposite sex? And, my God, at work ? Out of the earshot of others?

Wouldn’t a man who wanted to discuss such things call a general staff meeting and discuss them there?

He had watched as the senators recoiled in fear and loathing as the accusing woman described what the monster had said. He could tell that some of them were hearing certain words and learning about certain things for the first time. He had heard of such things before, but he had lived his life in the sewers, not on the high plains of decency.

It didn’t seem to matter to the senators that Anita Hill used only the fairly mild expression of “one of the oddest episodes” in describing the deplorable Coke can story. There was no need to ask why that only struck her as odd and not worthy of immediate execution; in their minds, only the devil’s child could speak that way. Context be damned.

Back in the cafeteria, the woman now was searching for a seat. She moved nearer to his table. Surely she would not sit with him; surely she could detect the evil that lurked beneath this false front of respectability. Could she see or smell the fumes emanating from him?

He tried to think how he could disguise his shame. This was a woman of moral fiber, of integrity. He remembered he once commented on a dress she wore. She seemed appreciative, but was she? He didn’t think he leered or betrayed his foul thoughts as he complimented her, but perhaps she had sensed them.

God, he hoped she had not seen the Thomas hearings or listened to the senators, for if she had she surely would know that he, too, was a repugnant beast.

He tried to search his brain for conversations they had had in recent years. Had he ever betrayed his innate vile wickedness with remarks about sex?

Had he ever, even if thinking it had been a joke, mentioned barnyard animals and human beings in the same sentence? He was hyperventilating now, because for a moment, he had a flashback that perhaps he had. It seemed like it had been a passing joke, a wisecrack meant to elicit a laugh.

O curses! Yes, he had! It had been several years ago, with just the two of them, and he had said it. She had laughed nervously, and he knew she hadn’t thought it a funny joke. And yet, she hadn’t run away or slapped him or cried out in anguish.

Yes, he had asked her out. For shame! He now recalled that it had been more than once. Her refusals had seemed couched to him, as if there might be an opening. She had seemed friendly, he thought. Maybe she just needed some urging. He remembered the warm tales around the family hearth as a child, when his mother and father humorously told of his father’s repeated overtures to his mother before she finally relented and accepted a date. He thought he was just doing what his father had done.

Now, he realized he had been a despicable cad.

He thought of the women who had talked of their sexual prowess around him. They had said it in the context of throwaway lines, almost as asides in conversations probably long forgotten to them. He knew they were not evil people; in fact, they were some of the closest, most trusted confidants he had. Some had pursued him for dates over a period of time, but he had declined. Yet, they had remained true-blue friends after all these years.

He thought of the things they had said. Somehow, they sounded humorous, as he replayed their context. But then he wondered how the remarks would sound if read coldly from a transcript.

He decided he wouldn’t care to send them before the senators, fearful of what they would think of these women. Or that they might suddenly turn and, heaven forbid, begin to question him!

He could now breathe easy. His office mate had found another seat in the cafeteria, joining a group of other women.

He looked over at them and smiled, keeping his fetid, disgusting thoughts of how good they looked buried deep within his soul.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, Calif. 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.