We walked to the back of the hotel by the restaurant dumpster and Dolly peeled herself out of her jeans though she kept her white sweater with the beaded photo of Fred “Rerun” Berry on the whole time. I just stood there, thinking that we were going to go in the back door, but Dolly told me that she really wanted to see my Typhoid Goldfish. So, shrugging my shoulders I pulled off my jodhpurs and showed the goods. But Dolly didn’t have too much interest in my downtown lips. Rather she turned me around and started massaging my good old brown eye with her index finger and a plastic cup with the phrase “You wanna get laid? Stick yer head up a chicken’s ass and wait” emblazoned across it. Well the next thing I know I am in ecstasy and Dolly is having a good time too, judging by her grunting and groaning to the tune of “Straight Talk” one of her biggest hits and a personal favorite of mine. Apparantly, I was having a little too much fun as I didn’t seem to notice the stool that started sliding out of my ghetto pucker and all over Dolly’s sweater. Soon, I realized I had no control over my bowels and it wasn’t just because of Ms. D (the other Ms. D that is! LOL!!!), those Snackwell crumb cakes with Olestra that tasted so good the night before as I sipped on Harvey’s Bristol Creme while watching a Dukes of Hazzard marathon were now coming back to haunt me. “No need to worry” Dolly informed me. “I grew up in Tennessee, where a girl knows what to do with an unexpected handful or mouthful of shit.”