SF CONFIDENTIAL

It didn't take long before Cookie had moved into the basement with me. She was a college student at State, well read, smart, pretty, with a husky voice and a ready giggle. I was a lucky man. But most importantly, Cookie was mellow. We didn't even argue, let alone get in screw driver throwing fist fights. She went to class. I picked up carpentry jobs and scheduled shows in the gallery. She wanted a tattoo, so i had the cow's brand tattooed on her leg. True to her name , she got a job selling cookies downtown and then quit and got a better job at The Condor Club as a cocktail waitresss.
The Condor was a strip club at the corner Broadway and Columbus. They hired a lot of students to strip and wait tables, but the real star was Carol Doda (and her giant breasts). Carol was a silicone pioneer and the whole place was built around her tourist friendly fake tits and sequined piano burlesque act. The manager was a guy named The Beard, a surly MF who would constantly harangue Cookie to "Stand up straight. Stick 'em out! Ya got a great pair. Show 'em to that folks!" I told her he was just trying to improve her posture. She DID have a great pair!
Like the local woman who kidnapped a corpse, whom she fell in love with and drove across the country , staying in motels, having nightly sex with the decaying snatched body, the story of The Beard's demise is classic SF Confidential. After a frantic call from Cookie, I drove my little MG over to North Beach to pick her up and the place was swarming with cops. Seems the Beard had talked one of the younger strippers onto Carol's shiny piano after closing the night before. The piano was rigged to decend from the cieling with Carol swinging her famous mammeries. The Beard had mounted the girl and the piano and must have accidentally hit the switch and was either too drunk or too high to notice as the baby grand made it's ascent. His big head got caught between the ivorys and cieling. The poor girl got caught under The Beard until the fire department came in with the jaws of life.
Cookie gave her notice that night and never went back. We were doing OK financially and now she could afford to concentrate on school. I had applied to Seminary in Berkeley and was awaiting their descision. I realized just how ignorant i was about theology and also wanted to have a credential of sorts, if I was to continue with the religious themes in my work. We pulled into the driveway in front of the gallery and Cookie climbed out of the MG, a bit slumped. I didn't miss a beat. "Stand up straight. Stick 'em out! YA GOT A GREAT PAIR! COME ON SHOW 'EM TO THE FOLKS!" Cookie just smiled and shot me the middle finger. If she'd only argue with me a little she'd be the perfect woman.