Gorilla Porn

h/t to Atrios for the link to this fine piece about
Bill Frist Loves Gorillas.

As some of you may know, I have a brewing side career submitting short porn pieces to Hustler Letters. I think MY version of the article is much better. But blame Atrios. He's the one who brought the link to my attention.

Bill Frist: A Doctor at Heart

By Heywood Jablome
Wednesday, May 24, 2006; A21

The houses were dark on Bill Frist's street. A morning bird chirped; the others were waiting for dawn. But Frist was awake, and his bedroom light was on. "I'm going to take a shower," the Senate majority leader said brightly. Ten minutes later, the blow dryer roared.

In the kitchen, Frist's wife, Karyn, was brewing coffee and remembering their life before politics. For 20 years, Frist had worked as a heart transplant surgeon. He had stitched hearts into more than 150 lives.

One Saturday night, Karyn recalled, "we were supposed to go to a movie. He walked out in his scrubs." Instead of taking Karyn to the theater, Frist brought her to the operating room. "To see the human body alive -- without a heart in it. He's, like, SO FUCKED UP. All he does after work is jerk off to back issues of National Geographic or that stupid movie, Gorillas in the Mist. Between that and chasing the cat around the house, he has no energy left for me! You think that New York Times article about Bill and Hilary's marriage was bad, spend some time here, and you'll see how fucked up things can get when you're married to an egomaniac."

As Karyn spoke, Frist came down the stairs. "This is really who you are," she said, looking up at him. She first met Frist in the emergency room, where he treated her for a sprained wrist. "I fell in love with him in his scrub suit, with blood splattered on his clogs. I see him doing that, almost more than as a politician.

"God, what the FUCK was I thinking?" she muttered, rolling her eyes as she washed a handful of antidepressants down with vodka, and lit the fifth cigarette in as many minutes.

Frist, at heart, is a doctor. At 5:45 a.m., before a recent Senate workday, he prepared for a quirky slice of surgery. During congressional breaks, Frist, 54, has been known to fly to Africa to operate. But in Washington, he has quietly cultivated another practice: gorillas at the National Zoo.

"These gorillas seem to develop heart disease," said Frist (R-Tenn.). "It's totally unknown. I did a lit search -- nothing. The fact that we're working on the edge of the unknown is fun."

"Well, your first patient was a dog," Karyn said. In medical school, Frist cut out a dog's heart and held it in his palm. It continued to beat for a slippery minute. He also made a habit of going down to the SPCA and "adopting" stray cats, only to kill and dissect them later for school.

"Watching it beat, the beauty of it," Frist recalled, his mouth watering, rivulets of anticipatory drool hanging in thick cables from his forked tongue. "I decided I would spend my life centered around the heart. Yes, the beating. Watch it beat.. beat... beat my little heart, pump those..precious...bodily...fluids," he groaned as a throbbing lump began to manifest itself in his pants.

"And you didn't say 'I'll take some time off and be a politician' while you were holding the dog heart," Karyn said, as Frist began to rub his crotch rhythmically muttering "Hearts...hearts...blood and hearts..."

Frist, in a gray suit, picked up his file marked "ZOO" and said, "We've got to be on time to open the Senate."

He climbed into the back of the Fristmobile, a large black SUV decorated, WW2 flying ace style, with cat heads, representing the felines he slaughtered in pursuit of his degree. The hood ornament was what remains of Terri Schiavo's decapitated, rotting head. Thumbtacked to the skull's forehead was a mylar balloon. "It reminds me of that day in the Senate, when I diagnosed her as being healthy," Frist recalls. "Boy, was that a mistake. When I snuck into her hospital room down in Florida, she barely moved at all when I put "Little Bill" in her mouth.

"Lousy fucking gimp," he sighed. "Whore."

His driver steered toward the zoo. "I gravitate towards insurmountable problems," Frist said, his long legs spilling between the front seats. "I try to use creative solutions." One day, he hopes to cure AIDS or cancer, by videotape. He sucked on the stem of his glasses. Then he sucked on a dead kitten. Then he attempted to suck his own penis, and almost dislocated a disc. "The typical person around here may not understand. Only Ron Jeremy knows."

At the zoo hospital, a team of four veterinarians, three technicians, an animal keeper and a veterinary dentist were wheeling a 350-pound gorilla into surgery as Frist arrived. They would perform an ultrasound of the heart, a root canal and a physical. Frist joined the team, as he had on other mornings, tying on a mask. He unbuttoned his business shirt, revealing jungle-pattern surgical scrubs and a pair of hairy, toned biceps. As he stretched luxuriously, his muscles rippled under his shirt. This reporter's panties instantly moistened, and she slid a single digit surreptitiously across her swelling clitoris. Frist's head, abnormally large for his narrow shoulders, makes him look like a lollipop or a Pex dispenser, both of which bring to mind distinctly erotic memories from this reporter's lonely teenage years.

"A little bit like Superman," said the dentist, Chuck Williams, who was sporting a massive erection at the sight of Frist's sagging buttocks and sunken chest, glistening like some kind of oatmeal gone cold in the morning sun.

Frist snapped on rubber gloves. He leaned over the operating table, gripping the corners. An oxygen monitor beeped. The patient gagged, as Frist inserted his swollen cock into the gorilla's oral cavity.

"This is home," Frist said through his mask. "Where I spent 12 hours a day for 20 years, orally, vaginally, and yes sometimes anally violating sedated zoo animals." Frist spent so much time in the hospital in Tennessee that when he came home to his wife and three sons he felt like an intruder. He smelled even worse.

He pressed his stethoscope, and then his testicles, to the gorilla's chest and narrowed his eyes. Kuja, a silverback patriarch, was breathing isofluorine. He was the Senate majority leader of the gorillas, who negotiated disputes, back-slapped the ape boys and owned exclusive mating rights with the females. Much like Frist himself, a man who had taken a hit for the team by making love to Dennis Hastert. When Kuja started to stir, a veterinarian injected more anesthesia. One backhanded swipe could break Frist's neck, never mind his cock. "It's still better than Denny," Frist said. "God, that man was as malodorous as he was voracious." Frist's ass clenched instinctively, remembering the peculiar tastes of the gorilla-sized Speaker of the House.

Frist listened to the heart; the gorilla's lub-dub sounded human. "When you're this close, you feel this kind of oneness with them," Frist said. The stink of ape sweat and gorilla testosterone soaked his hair and clothes. "Gorillas, people, men. You look at the people here, a symphonic flow of people pitching in. It's the oneness of humanity. And I for one want to make sweet sweet love to all of them when they're unconscious or brain damaged, but especially the gorillas."

This kind of oneness does not come easily to Frist. Though devoted to matters of the heart, Frist acknowledges that he is aloof, something he traces back to the day he refused to attend kindergarten, after Father O'Malley touched his "special private parts". He calls it "the Great Wall," an emotional barrier that has kept him from having close friends. It is a wall that could block his connection with voters, some say, and his way to the White House.

But in the operating room there were no walls, only bridges, as one arm reached over another. A veterinarian rotated the ultrasound probe over Kuja's heart. The dentist tweezed out the bloody string of a root canal -- "Isn't this exciting?" And Frist slipped an IV needle into Kuja's vein. His gloves turned red with gorilla blood. "I get SO physically aroused at the sight of blood. Blood.. blood...

"I'm going to fuck his chest cavity now," Frist announced, pulling down his pants. All two inches of his fully erect penis, red and shiny like a nightcrawler, stood at attention under the fluorescent lights. The other doctors oohed and aahed, except for one, a Democrat, who promptly regurgitated.

"Why do you hate America?" roared Dr. Frist, slicing open the doctor's throat. "We'll use HIM for any emergency transfusions," he added, as the offender collapsed.

"Oh God, the blood, the precious blood," Frist moaned, as he crammed his face into the sucking chest wound he'd opened up on Kuja. "There's almost a spiritual, poetic component to it," Frist said, his eyes expressing what his surgical mask hid. "This oneness, this wholeness. You can't compare it to the Senate floor. I immerse myself in it. This is my real life. I love BLOOD! I LOVE TO FUCK ZOO ANIMALS!"

Frist lifted Kuja's huge, leathery black hand, and wrapped the animal's fingers around his penis, which was turning purple and approaching ejaculatory inevitability. Williams, the dentist, said, "Take him with you to the Senate, so when Biden or Kennedy mouth off, you can turn him loose."

"He's on my side," Frist said, stroking Kuja's fur, as he dumped a massive load (for testicles the size of raisins) on the gorilla's unconscious face.

Afterward, Frist buttoned himself back up, into his blue shirt and into his senatorial reserve. "I need to be talking to the Israeli prime minister in 18 minutes," he told his driver as the SUV rumbled toward the Capitol. He said he was aware of critics, "People say, 'Oh, he's inside-baseball, and stiff.' heh... if he'd seen me five minutes ago, he'da known what stuff really means"

"Reid called," an aide said at the Capitol door, referring to the Democratic leader.

"I think we're on the same wavelength," Frist said as they strode inside.

At 9:30 a.m., Frist opened the Senate, gripping the corners of the lectern, as he had the operating table. Across the city, rolling in a bed of hay, Kuja opened his eyes and grunted. The gorilla kept touching his tongue to his tooth. Something had changed inside of the beast while he slept; his ass hurt, and there was a funky taste in his mouth. Frist smiled and spoke unremarkably from the lectern, reeking of silverback testosterone.

Off Camera is a monthly column by Laura Blumenfeld featuring Washington's top decision makers in their off hours -- outside the office and inside their lives.