FRAN'S MAN Stan ran away, as Fran's dad had, and Fran's as sad as a clam. Fran and pals Jan, Mag, and Hannah chat at L'Amant's bar and watch cars pass.
"Stan's a fab chap," wan Fran bawls, "a tall dark Alaskan and a Pac-Man champ!"
Jan says, "Call Stan, Fran, and ask: has that man had an asthma attack?"
Fran gasps. Stan has bad asthma.
"A card, Fran," says Mag. "Scrawl a tad, add a stamp, and wham! Stan scans that card and crawls back."
Hannah can't stand Stan, and snaps, "That man's a jackass, a fat fart that plays Pac-Man all day. Sans Stan, Fran's as glad as a clam."
At that, Brad and Val, a fat Alabama fag and a fat Alabama hag that ran back and sat at L'Amant's bar, ask: "What's a tartar tart?"
"A tartar tart's a clam and banana tart," snaps L'Amant's lank black-clad barman and slams that fat fag and hag a grand tartar tart.
Brad and Val attack that tartar tart. At last, Brad's flab flaps. Brad farts. Brad clacks. An asthma attack? Nay, Brad gags. That tartar tart crams that fat man's maw.
"Alath!" Val bawls. "Brad shall path away fatht!"
Fran, an LPN, darts at Brad and asks, "Ça va?"
Brad flaps and farts and clacks and gags.
Fran slaps that fat fag's back. Fran clasps hands, wraps arms. Fran taps and raps and rams, and at last Brad gasps and—smash!—that tartar tart blasts back and sprawls at L'Amant's wall.
Wan Brad, Fran's thrall, clacks: "Th-th-thanks, g-g-g-gal. C-c-c-can-
n-n-n a m-m-m-man-n-n th-th-th-thank th-th-th-th-th-tha—"
"Ça va, ça va," Fran snaps and walks away. "What a drag."
