Flip a Towel

"Flip a Towel" was originally published in November of 2001, and quickly became one of the most popular pieces on the site. As far as we know, it was the first Brothel piece to be posted on websites beyond www.literarybrothel.com.

Because of this - and NOT because I'm strangely proud of the creative writing I did as a 24yr old - it has earned a spot as the first piece resurrected here on the new home for The Literary Brothel. It has been edited from its original publication, but obviously not much. Enjoy. -KV


FLIP A TOWEL
by Klaus Varley

My friend Dan uses a different towel every day of the week. He steps out of the shower, dries himself, uses the towel, and throws it in the hamper. Seven days, seven showers, seven towels. On Sunday, he washes them.

"Isn't that a waste?" I ask, genuinely concerned with the environment and/or the real victim of this calamity: his battered, over-washed towels, thinned through the years by a cycle of ultra-cleanliness.

"I just don't want to wipe my face where I wiped my ass the day before," he states, not with his usual disdain for my ignorance, but with the sincerity of a friend coaxing his alcoholic roommate into attending his first AA meeting.

But right there he was out of line. If I need anything anonymous, it is Gamblers Anonymous. I'm not guaranteed to wipe my face where my behind may have been, I'm just taking a chance. Picking the part of towel for the face may not be rolling the die, but it's still gambling.

And because it is a form of gambling, it is not a black and white, ass to face, moral decision Dan would lead me to believe. If there is a chance I will dry myself as I had dried before, then I am not necessarily choosing to wipe my face in old butt-tracks. I am just playing the odds.

But the odds (and towel) get bad after two weeks. Real bad.

Dan clarified my discombobulated reasoning, in case I harbored any doubt about the fallacy of it all. "Ok, so the first time you say to yourself, 'Ass in the middle, face on the edges,' but after a few days you begin to wonder: 'Was it face in the middle and ass on the edges? Man it's freezing, standing here, dripping wet,' and plunge face first into the middle of the towel."

Dan then explained how he is the next evolution of the human species and people like me are simple minded peons caught in a web of habit and deceit and I could either get on the boat with him an Noah or stay on shore and drown with the rest of the stupid-ass creatures.

But would I give in? No way. Sure, Dan had a point. But washing every Sunday? That sounds like a lot of work. Besides, I'll be damned if I will concede, especially after the condescending lecture with fancy "logic" and sophisticated "reasoning." Instead, I choose to go on the offensive.

"You're a dick." I said, not in a complimentary way, but with obvious disdain for the male genitalia.

"Yeah, well at least I'm not wiping my face in my ass." He almost tagged on an "Ass face!" or "Ass Clown!" but his point was made and neither one of us wanted this debate to last any longer, well maybe he did, but hell, I'm telling the story so I get to tell what he was thinking, and in MY STORY he didn't want to talk about it any more..

Needless to say, I still use the same towel for at least eight days back to back. My towels thank me for it: they're still thick and healthy, even if they're a little dirty. Unbeknownst to Dan, however, I use towels with different textures on each side, carefully remembering that I dry my back with the course side, and my front with the soft side.

Or was it my face on the rough side and my posterior on the soft side? ("Face in the Rough, that isn't so tough..." or was it "Ass in the Rough, that isn't so tough.." "Beer before liquor you've never been...)

Oh no.

Well, I try not to let it bother me. When you're cold and wet, you really don't care. Besides, I bet my ass is pretty clean.

-KV