” Pam, I can’t believe you were able to get me an appointment so quickly”
“Why’s that?”
“This time of year…”
“a personal reference goes a long way.”
“Apparently.”
“It is actually a great time to do it with all the publicity surrounding similar types of surgeries–the price went down significantly.”
“I can’t wait…I’m been wanting to pull the trigger for years.”
“What was the final straw?”
“Oh you know better than anyone…it was just an ever-growing laundry list.”
“Amen sister.”
A gentle knock was barely perceptible on the kitchen door.
“Dear?”
“Yes, Marvin”
“Would you and your guest be more comfortable in the living room while I start preparations for dinner?”
“No! Actually, we’re still finishing our wine…but do come in I wanted to talk to you…I’m very unhappy.”
The middle-aged man timidly inched his way into the kitchen nodding to his wife and her guest.
“Yes, dearest?”
“Don’t sweet talk me–look at these counters…I see cookie crumbs all over. I certainly didn’t put them there.”
“But, but…”
“Don’t you but me..and don’t backtalk me in front of my friend…” Suddenly, Marvin’s wife filled her empty wine glass with cold water from the sink and then threw the cold water violently into her husband’s face.
“There! Maybe that will wake you up to what I expect from now on…. you did not stack the plates in the dishwasher the way I like it. When I tell you to do something a certain way in the kitchen I expect you to follow instructions. Or are you trying to get me angry.”
“Yes dear, I mean NO dear, Marvin replied with water dripping off his emotionless face.”
“And remember…the refrigerator is organized a specific way. Don’t start putting food on the second shelf. That’s only for water. How many times do I have to tell you that.”
“I’m sorry, honey.”
“And don’t think I didn’t see that one of my yogurts was missing. Those are mine. You have your own food. Leave my food alone. You’re fat enough as is. You don’t need to be eating yogurt. You should be working out more anyway.”
“You’re right.”
“I know I’m right…I’m like a broken record player. Why don’t you go clean up my shoe closet for the next hour until we’re done here. That ought to help you break a sweat.”
“Yep, I’m on it.”
“Wait!”
“Yes, dear?”
“This dish rag is all wet….were you planning on leaving it here in the kitchen? Yeah, I’m sure you were. It’s goes in the clothes hamper with the other dirty laundry you should be washing…right NOW….you can get to the closet after”
As Marvin quickly left the kitchen, Pam’s friend was pantomiming an enthusiastic applause with her hands. On her face was a huge smile.
“Pammie, you’ve got that one almost totally housebroken.”
“I can’t take all the credit, they do offer tremendous after-treatment consultations at the clinic if you ever need them.”
“Seems like you have everything well in hand here…can’t wait to get Fred in the operating room.”
“Timing’s great, Nan…I’m here too if you ever have any questions.”
“I’ve got one question actually…It’s kind of personal.”
“Go ahead, shoot.”
“What do they do with them–you know, after the operation I mean?”
“Oh those useless things…I keep Marvin’s in a jar in the cabinet above the fridge.”
“You do NOT!”
“You BET I do… that lazy prick sometimes needs a good reminder of who’s the boss now.”
“Great wine by the way”
“Isn’t it? Sheila recommended it. I really love a good Chardonnay.”
Brickhead wasn’t stupid he was just a little bit slower than the other guys.
I guess it was my job to bring him up to speed on how things at the office ran. Over drinks was the best way to get that shit taken care of.
Anyway, Brickhead wasn’t a bad guy. He was just young and from the Midwest or the country or some place somewhere where they had chickens and roosters and cows and hens and I really didn’t give a fuck about any of that.
It wasn’t my job to care.
It was my job to train the new recruits so they knew how things were supposed to go and to get things taken care of without making any mistakes.
That was the most important thing of all. No mistakes ever.
This bar I took them all to was called Mr. O’s—a favorite little shit hole because it was always empty, the bartender minded his own fucking business and he never charged me for drinks- why? I don’t know– but that was just fine with me.
The juke had a pretty good selection too —The Doors, The Stones, U2, The Who, The Police,Fucking ACDC, Good shit.
They even threw me free chicken wings –a big ol’ greasy bucket.
Yeah, man– Mr. O’s is the shit.
Ok so get this– Brickhead– who is nothing more than a little fucking shit-eating cowboy– he says to me –with this serious look on his face—-“So when do I get to handle some real action, already.”
Can you believe this fuckin guy–the balls on this fuckin retard.
I look at him and I’m about to slap this mutt silly but just then, Charlie the bartender, trots up with a couple free beers and a buckets of wings…and I just laugh to myself–I eat a couple wings and down my beer.
Then I grab this mother-fucking prick by his fucking neck with my right hand and I start to squeeze– and he looks at me–all surprised–but now I got his attention real good–I start squeezing harder and harder –and his face starts to turn redder and redder–like a real brick-head– now I got his full attention, his eyes start tearing up, he looks all confused and then I whisper–“when I say we talk about business–that’s when we talk about business…do you got me?…nod if you understand…” I helped the kid nod.
Then I slowly eased up on the vise.
Same routine for over a dozen new recruits.
What can I say? They gotta learn from the get go ’bout protocols.
Anyways for some reason schoolin’ this young prick made me think about all the other important stuff I had learned over the years about all sorts of shit.
Like, it’s always better to over-tip than under-tip. Just is. Red-heads are all crazy. They just are. Always mute commercials–that’s why there’s a mute button. Never answer a phone call from a phone number if you don’t recognize the number on caller ID. Police lie like a rug–just as much as criminals. Potato chips go great with ketchup. Always double down when you can. Don’t order take out sushi. Never write down shit or text or email important stuff only use payphones. Women never look fat…not if you wanna get laid.
Taylor was from a farmhouse in the Midwest and she was pretty with strawberry blonde hair but very shy and mousy. She looked like Chloe Sevigny and she hung out with the nerd patrol in the TV room and watched Star Trek with the brainiacs almost every night.
Long Island raised Jewish Princess Fern didn’t know what compelled her to sit next to Taylor. But the lights were pretty dark in the TV room. Fern was feeling frisky after a long night of partying at the campus pub. She let his hand fall on top of Taylor’s. No one could see. Taylor didn’t say a word as she grabbed Fern’s hand.
It was thrilling. No one else in the room knew what they were doing. When Fern tapped Taylor’s leg to follow her out of the TV room as she got up, Taylor didn’t make a move.
Not until Fern left the TV room and went up the stairs toward Taylor’s hallway. Five minutes later Taylor followed.
Taylor looked Fern in her green eyes, smiled widely and slowly opened the door to her own room on the girl’s hallway—and they didn’t say a word.
Fern ran her hands over Taylor and slowly kissed her.
Taylor seemed frightened at first but then quickly and hungrily made out with Fern, tasting the beer and cigarettes on her breath. They were both so naughty now and Taylor loved it.
Fern felt Taylor’s perky tits and cupped her tight ass.
Taylor started to get undressed quickly and before Fern knew it, they were fucking on a fluffy blue rug on the dorm room floor.
Licking each other’s wet, candy-flavored pussies. They still had not said one word to each other.
But Taylor moaned loudly and scratched Fern’s arms and back as she came.
Taylor was a real hellcat in the sack and the coolest part was they never said one word to each other…they didn’t have to.
When they saw each other the next day in the TV room they ignored each other. But later that night, they repeated the previous night’s ritual. As Fern left, she noticed Taylor’s nerdy friend Paula smiling. Obviously, their secret was out of the bag. The later sessions would never match that first time…which was like the first Star Trek…far superior to later incarnations.
The Publicist:
Brad met Brandi, the publicist with wavy, blonde hair at a music event and then took her to Cirque du Soleil. Brandi was a divorcee and she loved to be told what to do. Brad treated her like his own personal fuck slave and she loved it. He would make Brandi beg for him to fuck her in the ass and then he would tell Brandi how her female co-workers would like to join in. He ordered Brandi to lick their pussies and assholes. Brandi loved the dirty talk and Brad loved smoking some doobie before she came over.
“Get on the bed now and pull down those pants so I can fuck your ass like the little bitch whore you know you are…”
“Yes master, thank you…”
”Shut up and get those pants down bitch.”
Brad’s cock was never harder than when he would go through these B&D scenarios with the publicist. They engaged in phone sex all the time and Brad discovered that a lot of women love to be humiliated. Even though he revered and respected women… when it came to hot and dirty sex…why not? They were both adults… and the dirtier he talked to Brandi the more she loved it.
”That’s right…your girlfriends are all watching me fuck you in the ass you little whore…now they’re turning around so you can stick your nose in their ass cracks and lick their assholes…you’d like that wouldn’t you?”
“Oh yes master, you know I would…”
“Of course I know you would…get to it”
Brad usually just fucked Brandi in the ass…while he did it she would finger her clit. When she left to go back to San Francisco …Brad would miss her. Brandi was a cool chick and a great fuck…and as publicists go…she was one that Brad could actually tolerate…
”Next time my crew wants an exclusive interview…you better fucking make it happen or I’m going to make you suck their cocks while I pound your ass…you understand what I’m saying you stupid fucking publicist whore?”
“…yes master…you’ll get the first interview every time…”
“You’re damn fucking right I will! Now take it in your ass you little bitch…”
“Oh yes…oh my god… yesss”
“Take it you bitch…”
“Oh yesssssss, thank you.”
“That’s right, thank me for it you fucking publicist cunt.”
“Oh yes, master I’m a stupid fucking whore.”
”I know you are, bitch…take it up your ass …that’s right just like that…”
It would go on like that every time until they both came and then they would laugh and smoke a joint and then Brandi usually went home.
The cosmetics executive:
Once Stephan got a taste for the B&D games he found there was no shortage of women that liked to take part. Cindi, the cosmetics executive with the short black hair and pale complexion, was a friend of that hot co-worker Shelly who worked in the women’s dept.
Cindi was a set-up and she was totally game to be told what to do. Stephan made Cindi agree that if she was going to stay over at his apartment that she would follow his orders and do what he said.
There would be a safe word and he tied Cindi’s legs and hands up with a robe belt and tie.
Then he blindfolded Cindi, kissed her beautiful naked body and then put plastic laundry clips on her nipples.
Cindi’s pussy was slick and she was moaning like a woman possessed.
Stephan looked down, took another toke of a joint and admired the beautiful, writhing executive stretched across his sheets…he slid a vibrator onto Cindi’s pussy and she started to moan even louder…
”That’s right you’re such a good little slave that I’m going to make you come…but I want you to remember that your pussy and asshole and mouth are my property…”
”Yes, they are master”, Cindi moaned.
Stephan was glad Cindi remembered that she was supposed to always refer to him as “master.” The candle was originally there to drip on her…but instead he dipped it in the jar of Vaseline and slid the wick end slowly and wickedly up Cindi’s inviting asshole.
“That’s right you little slave bitch…suck on that candle with your asshole like you’re sucking on a lollypop…and don’t you dare let it slide out of your asshole.”
“oooooh….ahhhhh…ooooohh…oops…I’m sooo sorry master…it slipped out of my asshole by accident, Cindi gasped apologetically.
“SMACK!!!…now, don’t let it happen again slut…now, slide it right back in…” her pale white asscheek now had a bright pink handmark.
“oooooh, yessssss, master…thank you so much.”
Stephan jerked off on her back after Cindi came from the vibrator and that was the first of their many “play dates.”
After a while Cindi wanted a relationship and Stephan wasn’t the guy for that. But he always kept a candle and laundry clips in his kitchen drawer in case Cindi would occasionally decide to reach out for an impromptu booty-call.
The Blonde:
Porsche was blonde and she had been introduced to Ben by Manfred. There was some instant chemistry…but Ben didn’t act on it until months later when he used the aspiring actress for a TV modeling segment.
Manfred had said he had fooled around with her, but Ben doubted it and Porsche confirmed that too.
She was Italian and she looked like that blonde from Raging Bull…Kathy Moriarty…Ben discovered that her thing was getting spanked and phone sex. Ben was glad to oblige…
”Porsche I know you are in the bathroom right now…let me hear you…I want to hear you go to the bathroom…that’s good…now wipe yourself off and go into your bedroom and pull out that dildo I told you to buy earlier…did you remember to tell the clerk that you needed a big dildo so your master could fuck you in the ass for being such a nasty little slut?”
“…yes master,” Porsche replied.”
”You’re lying you little bitch I can tell by your voice”
“…no master I told him…I have the dildo right here”
“…you are a lying bitch…and you know what happens to lying bitches don’t you?”
“No master, what?”
“…they get fucked in front of all their co-workers…next time I call you in the office,I want you to finger yourself under your desk…do you understand me?”
“…yes master I do”
“…good girl…who owns your mouth, pussy and ass?”
“…you do master “
“…say it then…”
“My mouth, my pussy and my ass belong to you master…”
“Good girl…now stick that dildo in your pussy…”
Porsche started to gasp. Before long she was moaning into the phone…“oooooh…..ahhhhhh.”
”you want to lick your girlfriend’s pussy don’t you?”
“..Yes master..unghhh…oooooh.”
“You are a dirty little lesbian whore aren’t you?”
“..yesssss… master…uhhhhh”
This girl was hot all right…Porsche did play around with her girlfriends on occasion and if Ben hadn’t been seeing someone else at the time he would have really enjoyed fucking Porsche.
They kept meeting at parties and they kept trying to slip away to a private room so Ben could give her the spanking he kept promising her on the phone…but something or someone always seemed to bust it up before Ben could lay a hand on her delicious ass.
The best he could do was give her a pinch.
One time, they were in the elevator going down with other people in the car. Ben asked Porsche to hold his drink as well, then without anyone watching, Ben non-nonchalantly slid his hand between her legs on top of her pussy. She was wearing panties but for twenty seconds she stood there blushing as the other people in the elevator paid no notice. Ben whispered in her ear…”that’s mine… isn’t it…” she whispered back a breathless little “yes.”
(Note–Adam Kluger is not only a top notch writer and artist, he knows when and where to aim a camera. I think we’d all love to have out hands on some of the wares in this window. Reminds me of the time, at least twenty years ago, when I found eight original Amazing Stories dating back to before The War (WWII for the very young) at the local St. Vincent DePaul. I spent something like five bucks and got them all (those things can pack a big price amongst collectors) and I gave to to a friend’s wife so she could give them to him as a birthday present–told her to leave my name out of it. He is a big collector of such things and that made it the hit of the birthday party. His wife, also my friend, was grateful because he is one of those people who has everything. It got me drinks with the good stuff in it and it is a good thing to make people happy. I imagine most of the items in Adam’s pictures will do that for anyone with a love for books.–Leila)
Adam Kluger (And there will be a gallery coming by Dreck soon)
(Note-it is our serene pleasure to bring Adam Kluger on the site. He is a first rate writer and a fine fine artist despite the somewhat effacing name of the artist–The Eds.)
Paul had been heartbroken…
There was nothing better for a broken heart… than new pussy.
Paul started painting houses in Nantucket.
That’s where he met Kathy.
She had a big smile, blonde hair and a confident, easy way about herself. She was also really nice and pretty and intelligent too. She saw Paul on the roof of a house without a shirt on listening to the radio and painting a window frame. She worked down the street at a muffins shop. She would be attending Harvard in the fall. On Nantucket all the kids worked part-time summer jobs. At night they would go to the beach for bonfire parties or to summer houses for keg parties.
Paul and Kathy hit it off nicely. She would come back to his basement room and they would get busy. If Paul hadn’t still been pining over the girl who broke his heart he probably would have been able to give Kathy more. But there wasn’t anything to give. So it was just sex. And the sex was really good. For a straight-laced kind of chick she had a killer body and she was always so neat and clean and there was something about being on an island in the sun that makes fucking so much better.
Paul was already accepted to Bard.
This would be his summer for fun and Kathy helped him heal with terrific blowjobs and guilt-free sex. She seemed happy to have a good looking guy to bone and it was pretty uncomplicated.
The following summer, Paul would get a job scooping ice cream in town at the Old Corner Shoppe. He wore a fruity looking pink shirt and didn’t pay much attention when a pretty young blonde girl with short spiky hair started flirting with him. Her name was Stephany and she worked at a gas station pumping gas. Her uncle was a famous movie star and she had grown up on the Island. She was a smoking hot chick and Paul offered to give her a ride back to her house after his shift on the back of his moped. Granted, a moped is not nearly as cool as a motorcycle…but it’s also not nearly as lethal…when they got back to her house they quickly got undressed and jumped in a shower together. Paul couldn’t believe how sexy this chick was. Tanned and beautiful. He brought his “A” game with him into her bed because he wanted to be invited back again and again. Luckily, his enthusiasm was rewarded and he would end up fucking her throughout that summer.
One time on the beach he joined her and her girlfriend on their blankets.
He was asked to spread orange suntan lotion from France on both of them… Paul couldn’t help but notice how friendly and familiar the girls were with each other as they took off their tops to let Paul spread the lotion on their hot tan bodies. He suggested that If they were hungry that he would be glad to make a “sandwich” with them. The girls just laughed and nothing ever came of the idea…a little bit later Paul did take Stephany behind a dune and started fingering her. She could have fucked anyone she wanted on that Island. Before she met Paul she probably did…none of that mattered. She loved riding on the back of his moped and he loved rubbing baby oil on her body when they showered together after a torrid boning session. The sun, the surf. Hot blonde chicks, doobie and tooling around on a moped on a beautiful island.
It couldn’t get any better.
One serious bummer though was the day Paul almost drowned.
He had been with a work friend at Nobadeer beach. They tossed around a football and scoped out chicks. They listened to some of Paul’s cassettes on a portable boom box w/ cassette holder. UB40…reggae…the Specials..ska…anyway, Paul dove in to cool off…swam out and did a little body surfing…it was pretty mellow so he went out further and further
He could hear the caw of the seagulls and he felt great.
That is, until he saw a huge wave building to an enormous swale about 15 feet high almost 50 yards away. Quickly he looked around and realized he had made a huge mistake.
He wasn’t a great swimmer and panic shot through him like an icicle.
Quickly he started to do a mad crawl toward the shore…He didn’t look behind him.
Before he knew it, he felt the pull of the Atlantic Ocean and then the huge wave crashed over him. The power of the wave was shocking. It spun Paul like laundry until he felt the ocean floor. Immediately he pushed off. Disoriented, but sure that he needed to get back above the water’s surface…
He did that finally and gasped violently for breath.
Fuck! Oh my God. I’m in BIG trouble he thought as he turned his head.
He was still very far away from the shore. But he knew he had to recover quickly and keep paddling desperately toward the beach all the while sensing a new, even bigger wave approaching.
At this point he felt he might end up drowning.
But he was way too scared to scream for help.
It would have terrified him even more.
No one could help him now. He was too far out.
He was a small pink dot fighting against a roaring dark green swirling ocean with no concern for his life or his survival.
Paul decided he would try a risky maneuver. Instead of trying to body surf the wave forward and then be sent somersaulting under the water again…he would dive right into the wave at its middle and then swim underwater for a few seconds until he reached the surface.
As the large wave came up upon him, Paul took a quick gulp of breath and hoped that his gambit would work as he felt the awesome power of the water pull him toward the wave…he extended his hands in front of his head and dove for the middle of the wave. If it worked he might just survive this awful ordeal…if he had miscalculated that would be it.
He was done for
As it turned out he had made the right choice. The strategy worked. He avoided getting tossed head over heels underwater again and after using the same technique two more times on slightly smaller waves he felt the sand and pebbles of the shore line. Never had he ever felt such relief before. He made a mad sprint for the beach and was knocked down one more time by a wave. Paul laughed at the Ocean’s final message…don’t EVER fuck with me kid.
He collapsed on the beach in the sand with seaweed wrapped around his body and salt, sand and mucous pasted on his face as he blew bubbles of snot and gasped for breath. His friend Bram ran toward him and asked
“Dude, are you ok?”
“Yeah man… (Cough, cough)
Paul could taste the salt and sand in his mouth…his body was sore all over and he started to shiver…
“What the fuck happened to you?”
Paul leaned over and puked out some salt water
“Are you ok? Should I get a lifeguard?”
“No man, I’m cool… (Cough, cough) …just need a beer.”
Paul was neither cool or thirsty…what he was and what he would never forget, was that he was VERY lucky…he was a survivor. Sure…but more than all that he was a lucky son of a bitch.
Sure he felt invulnerable that summer. He was in his physical prime and he was getting laid and life was good.
On this day, however, he discovered first-hand just how unpredictable and tenuous life could be. He’d think twice from now on before he would wade out too far on anything. Leave the lunar fringe for those with a suicide wish. He’d get his kicks before the whole shithouse went up in flames but he’d exercise a bit more caution too.
Some rebel.
Red eyed and shivering Paul made his way up the beach on unsteady legs until he got to his beach blanket. Then he crumpled onto it and starting to puke out more salt water. A reggae song was playing on the tape deck and Paul could feel the warm sun caress his aching, shocked body…he lay there recovering, until he felt something cold and wet tap his shoulder. He slowly turned over and squinted into the rays of the sun as his pal Bram handed him a cold can of blue ribbon.
He felt like a new man. Like his past sins had been washed away. Like he had looked death in the face and survived. He had been given a second chance. He had guessed right in the face of disaster.
The summer was almost gone …and that beer tasted pretty damn good.
Later that Summer Paul would be living in a beach house with some other friends. One housemate named Werth was a deadhead and introduced Paul to shrooms. They had a keg party and Kathy was there…somehow Stephany heard about the party too and she came by to say hi…before you knew it…Paul hopped into her car without his shoes on and was off with Stephany. She kidnapped him and brought him back to her house on the edge of town for a hellacious boning session.
When he got back Kathy was gone…He made it up to her by fucking her the next night and then taking her to dinner at an Italian restaurant near the movie theatre. The film they watched later starred some English actor who would die years later at a bar in Malta.
There were other chicks that summer as well…there was a hostess at a restaurant where Paul worked part-time as a dishwasher…she was petite with black hair and she wore a lot of make-up. But she had a fine little body and she was always eager to tease Paul. Paul was lucky the night he drove her back to her place from the dance club. They were both pretty lit and when a cop asked Paul if they had been drinking. Paul admitted that he had had “one beer” but that he wasn’t drunk. Luckily, the cop was cool and let him off with a warning.
Paul almost backed up over a cliff shortly thereafter, but again luck was on his side that night…when he finally got the hostess back to her house for the bone, she got him so worked up with foreplay, that he shot almost on contact. Three strokes and that was it. Pretty embarrassing. He did his best to take care of her after with his hand. But the magic flirtation was over and that was the end of that.
Tom, a friend from the restaurant, always looked up to Paul because Paul was older and once rolled him a joint. Paul had a nice supply with him from Belsam’s, enough to last a few weeks. Anyway, out of the blue, while they’re smoking a joint after work behind the restaurant… the kid says,
” my younger sister wants to fuck you…”
Paul was surprised but interested and asked,
“Are you cool with that?”
.”Yeah, totally”
“I don’t know man. That could be kind of weird…you know”
…”dude, she won’t stop bugging me about it…will you just fuck her already?” or at least say hi to her?”
“Sure dude, bring her by…I’ll say hi.”
Paul felt like a rock star.
When she came by later that week, Paul was hanging out in his room with some work friends…a couple of guys and girls passing around wine and a joint.
“Hi, I’m Tom’s younger sister…Penny.”
“Hey Penny…nice to meet you.”
She had red hair and a nice little figure. Paul guessed she was almost sixteen.
Paul introduced her around and looked her in the eye from across the room…he recognized that look in her eyes.
Before long, she had worked her way over to where Paul was standing.
While obstructing everyone else’s view she casually reached behind her and grabbed the bulge that was starting to form in his shorts. Penny kept talking to the guy in front of her while at the same time she held firm to Paul’s now rock hard cock.
For a young girl, she was pretty bold.
Paul liked that about her.
When everyone else cleared out… she stayed.
Paul closed the door and turned around. Penny was already on her knees. She pulled down Paul’s shorts to his sneakers and then proceeded to give him a world class blowjob.
He didn’t fuck her though. That way, things never got weird with Tom for the rest of the summer.
“Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues, you can tell by the way she smiles.” – Dylan
The Mona Lisa Street Scene series arose on the West Side of Chicago, along Madison Street.
Sketchy people were wafting about there and here, buses were pulling in and out of the hulking garages, the El tracks were shaking with trains, cars going by, seagulls soaring above all in from the lake looking for chicken bones in the gutters, grass blowing in the vacant lots, garbage rotting in the alleyways, food smells floating from nearby hot dog stands (Chicago has more hot dog stands than McDonald’s, Wendy’s, and Burger King combined, even though McDonald’s was invented here and has its world headquarters here), leaves fluttering on the trees, weeds coming up from the cracks in the sidewalks, cats climbing on stairways, buildings groaning with ghosts, rats baring their fangs and claws, doves cooing and gently moving their wings without flying, but dreaming of flying, which is, after all, only – another kind of flying.
Because I’m feeling silly and I like to celebrate my city, these are the names of eleven comedians who are from Chicagoland, i.e., Chicago and environs: John Belushi, Jim Belushi, Bill Murray, Harold Ramis, Betty White, Steve Allen, Jack Benny, Chris Farley, Robin Williams, Redd Foxx, Bob Newhart.
Saragun Springs 