Tsipi Keller

Arachnologists tell us that for most species in nature, a husband's place is in the digestive tract of his wife. I know very little about nature, let alone spiders, but I do know about husbands (three so far) and stomachs. As a little girl of five, I said to my mother: “If you put a dime in my palm every time you tell me a way to a man's heart is his stomach, when I'm eighteen I'll have a nice dowry to catch him with.” My mother laughed and stroked my hair and said I'd grow up to be a bookkeeper. And she was right! I work for Lilinbaum & Lilinbaum and make a good enough living, and with moneys collected from my exes and wisely invested, I'm not poor.
As an aside, let me provide a short and relevant history: my first two exes perished under my care.The third, a mistake and a virtual cliché,eloped with a cleaning lady from Guatemala.
Still, I am not content. At moments of respite like now, I sit in the cafeteria of L&L and, over a modest lunch of greens, ponder when and how we veered off nature's path. I watch my fellow-workers (yes, most of them are fellows) in their suits and brown shoes and eat my heart out. It's silly and futile, but I can't help it. In my own small way I'm a scientist, a kind of an investigator (instigator!). I watch them and conclude: They don't look it, but they must be clever. Or, more clever than us females. For, excluding my own quite satisfying record, if anyone ends up in the digestive tract of the other, it is usually the female in the male's.

Then, just like that, it hit me: God exists! And, since He made man in His own image, He was naturally sympathetic to male issues, exhibiting a characteristic ambivalence toward females, whores