Hazards Read Free Page B

it,” I said.
    “It would be a sin,” she said.
    “I talk to the Lord all the time,” I assured her, “and He tells me that it ain’t no mortal sin, but just one of them little venereal ones that He don’t pay much attention to.”
    “We could not consider it.”
    “Just because you’re married?” I said.
    “Yes.”
    “Okay,” I said. “That don’t pose no lasting problem.”
    “It doesn’t?” said another. “Why not?”
    I snapped my fingers. “Presto!” I said. “You’re all legally divorced by Presidential Decree.”
    “You can’t do that!” protested Consuela.
    “A president’s got more powers than the captain of a ship, don’t he?” I said. “And if a captain can marry folks, then I don’t see why I can’t un-marry them.”
    “It’s not in the constitution.”
    “The constitution’s in the repair shop, remember?” I said. Then I looked around the table. “Okay, who’s interested in having a whole city named after her first thing in the morning?”
    I could see each of them was giving serious consideration to cementing her place in San Palmero’s history. Finally one of them said, “Well, he’s not quite as ugly as Riccardo.”
    A sizeable portion of the assemblage took issue with that remark and began arguing it. I thunk the two sides was going to come to blows for a while there, but then suddenly some gunshots rang out and a couple of windows shattered and one of the chandeliers got shot down.
    “I thought you told me all the husbands were dead or hiding!” I hollered as I dove under the table.
    Raquel and Maria ran to the busted windows and started shooting back, while a number of the young ladies joined me. It struck me as a propitious time to get to know the hired help a bit better, which I was in the process of doing when Consuela finally stuck her head under the table.
    “You can come out now, Presidente,” she said.
    “I’m comfortable right where I am,” I answered.
    “But it’s safe now,” said Consuela.
    “It’s safer down here,” I said as one of my new acquaintances proved to be more ticklish than I expected and began giggling, “to say nothing of friendlier.”
    But then the young ladies started climbing to their feet, and I figured I might as well stand up too, just to set a brave example. I wandered over to the window and looked down on the front lawn, where I saw a bunch of corpses in dresses sprawled across the grass.
    “Either we got some women campaigning for the presidency,” I announced, “or you ladies are married to the most peculiar batch of husbands I ever did see.”
    “They are women,” said one of the young ladies. “They are sick and tired of the mess men have made of this country and have decided to take it over themselves.”
    “Can’t they think of nothing better to do with their time than storm the presidential palace?” I complained.
    “Such as?” she said.
    “Cooking. Sewing. Cleaning. Having babies. All the things women are good at.”
    “So you think women are not good at anything but housework?” said Consuela ominously.
    “Now don’t you go putting words in my mouth,” I said angrily. “I think Bubbles La Tour was one of the most remarkable women I ever met, and I’ll lay plenty of eight-to-five that she didn’t know one end of a broom from another.” Which wasn’t exactly true, as I was in the front row of the 5-Star Rialto Burlesque the night they arrested her precisely because she proved she did know one end from the other, but I didn’t see no reason to be so nit-picky.
    “I have the distinct impression that you don’t appreciate the members of my sex,” said Consuela.
    “That’s a lie!” I said hotly. “No matter where I am I visit the local red light district and appreciate the bejabbers out of ’em every time I got a couple of extra dollars in my pocket!”
    I noticed a kind of angry murmuring starting to gain steam among the other women.
    “This was your doing, Consuela,” said one of