Tim Curry does romance.

Somehow a neurological pathway that hadn't been trod in a long while fired this week during a conversation with Becky, and when I shared this anecdote, she seemed to like it, so here you go.

I can't remember why, but we decided to drive my grandmother's car, a two door Thunderbird. It was my grandmother, my father and I, driving down I-5 to visit family in California. Wait, before I go any further, I should explain a couple of things. First, my father is a very conservative and religious man. Second, my grandmother is very much a believer in, "children should be seen and not heard," (Ironically, now that I'm grown, the phrase seems to be, "Molly should be neither seen nor heard." You can always tell a Milford man!) and at 13, I was still afraid of confronting her. So, being a non-driver, and basically still a child that didn't really count, I was relegated to the back seat with all of the luggage and coolers that took up all but ten inches of the seat and all of the floor. But this severe lack of room was not the most uncomfortable aspect of the drive.

My grandmother always has some trashy paperback or another to read, but since we were going on a car trip, why not get a book on tape? (I'll tell you why not, because your 13 year old granddaughter and your son are in the car!) So, she started the tape. What book it was, I don't remember, all I remember was Tim Curry was reading it. I remember this because I loved Tim Curry. Or, more honestly, I loved Clue. I thought, oh this should be funny, I'm excited. It was not three minutes before a very uncomfortable meeting took place between a couple of the characters - and I mean uncomfortable in more than one way. It was awkward to listen to Tim Curry describing sex in lurid and fictional detail yes, but it was more awkward because I realized, "this is what grandma reads all the time. Grandma reads erotica, gross!" and because I was trapped in a car with my grandmother and my father listening to Tim Curry describe sex in lurid and fictional detail. I could tell my father was excessively uncomfortable (I'm sure he was mostly concerned about my hearing it), but grandma, being a trooper, didn't bat an eye.

My father, trying not to be too obvious with his disdain, tried to start a conversation with me. But then, "SHHH! You're missing the book." After about twenty minutes of torn petticoats and compromising situations, grandma fell asleep. Almost immediately, my father hit the fast forward button then turned off the radio. What my father hadn't considered was about to bite us in the backsides. Quickly after the tape had finished fast forwarding, grandma woke up and said, oh, we need a new tape. A NEW TAPE? CRAP! It's a book on tape, of course there's more than one tape. Even if it is abridged, it's longer than one cassette. So, in went the next tape.

Let's just say, it did not take us long to catch back up with the plot. And we drove the rest of the way, listening to Tim Curry's great voice read absolute drivel, and 33% of the car enjoying it.

What has been permanently downloaded to my brain is the horrifying close of the book, and the way Tim Curry read it. Apparently, the story's hero was really excited about finding the heroine without underwear on and said, "oooooohhhhhhh thhhaaaannkk Gooooooood" in what I can only describe as 84 year old Lauren Bacall doing a cockney imitation of Sally Albright's faked orgasm in the restaurant. SO SO SO HORRIBLE. I would very much like that 4 seconds Eternal Sunshined out of my brain.

This book coupled with an accidental viewing of Rocky Horror Picture Show a year earlier put me off of Tim Curry outside of Clue ever since.

But in all fairness, the trip was not a total bust. That was where I learned how to crack an egg with one hand.