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everyone roared with laughter. “Mona? Mona? I tell you, folks, sometimes this shit writes itself. Mona, eh? I like that. Mona likes de bona. Giver her de bona and she starts to moana. Honey, in the land of gee-gee, you’re strictly a blue light special.”
    Giggling still, the blonde said, “A blue light special? What does that mean?”
    “It means your panties are always half-off.”
    A waitress went by with a tray of drinks and Piggy latched onto her. Gestured at her with his hand, whispered something to Ronny.
    “Leave her alone,” Ronny told his dummy.
    “I was just wondering if you like ‘em with big asses like that, Ronny. Hell, a girl like that? You put a corn cob in your back pocket and she’ll follow you forever.”
    The waitress, a heavy girl, was smiling, but obviously not amused.
    Piggy chortled. “Hey, I’m just kidding you, baby doll. Don’t let me interrupt your work…go make that money, honey. You hear that, boys?” Piggy said to a group of salesman well into their cups. “Hear what she said? Five dolla, make you holla.”
    The drunks were loving it, even if the waitress wasn’t. But she was new and she didn’t know the ropes yet. The others knew you didn’t go anywhere near the stage when Piggy and Ronny were doing their thing.
    Piggy turned back to the blonde. “Honey,” he said, “if you’re in the mood for a good piece of wood, you let me know.”
    “Really, Piggy,” Ronny said.
    Piggy chuckled his dry laugh. “Hey, Ronny, I was thinking. Remember when you were a kid and they sold those snack cakes with the characters? Twinkie the Kid, Captain Cupcake, and Fruit Pie the Magician?”
    “Sure. I recall.”
    “Well, they sound like a trio of pedophiles to me. Captain Cupcake liked the kids to lick his icing and Twinkie was always shoving his sponge cake in their mouths so they could taste his creamy filling. I bet when old Fruit Pie the Magician hung around grade schools, fruit pies weren’t the only thing he made disappear.”
    “That’s enough,” Ronny said.
    “Ah, you’re still mad because I was ribbing you about your wife.” Piggy put his hand next to his mouth like he wanted to tell the audience a secret. “Is it my fault his wife spreads faster than a brushfire? We’re talking the champion sword-swallower of Cook County here, people.”
    “Why don’t you quit picking on people,” Ronny told him.
    “Okay, okay.” Piggy tapped a hand to the side of his head. “Hey, Ronny, you hear that Newt Gingrich was a test tube baby?”
    “No, I didn’t know that.”
    “It’s true. Even then he wasn’t worth a fuck.”
    This was the part of the show where Piggy started launching his one liners and the drunks absolutely loved it. Sometimes Ronny and Piggy would do three or four encores.
    “Hey, Ronny, what do you call two lesbians in a closet?”
    “I don’t know. What do you call two lesbians in a closet?”
    “A liquor cabinet,” Piggy said. “You hear about the two lesbians that built a house?”
    “No, what happened?”
    “Well, it’s pretty nice place…no studs, all tongue and groove.”
    It went on rapid-fire like that for maybe ten or fifteen minutes, but slowly but surely the laughs were milked from the crowd and Ronny was beginning to look uncomfortable. Piggy was getting that shine in his eyes, looking like Howdy Doody from hell.
    “I think we’re falling flatter than your wife’s chest here, Ronny,” Piggy said in that squeaking voice. “Maybe what these people want is real entertainment…should I give ‘em something they’ll never forget?”
    Ronny licked his lips, swallowed. “No, ha, ha, don’t do that.”
    The dummy seemed to be grinning. “Got a story for you, folks. Listen closely: Mama, Mama, Mama McBane, she had two children who caused her great pain. She was only happy after they were slain. She had another son who was completely insane. The doctors all agreed there was something wrong with his brain. He began to crack under the