The main problem with you, Miss King
Is that you've been infected by your own insecurity
It's curdled up inside of you
Like milk sitting in a baby's mouth too long
You need to spit it out
Spit out that insecurity
Don't let it fester inside of you
And tell you that you're capable
Of things you aren't
Perhaps you did beat that Robert fellow
But he was already a beaten man
Before he even stepped out onto the court
I once wrote a story about a man like him
It was entitled 'Such a Way to See a Lake'
Lovely to say, isn't it?
It's about a man who kills a drifter
And then eats breakfast
He doesn't actually come right out and say he killed her
But its inferred through carefully selected adverbs
The story was never published
Because I spilled gin all over the final draft
Do you read much, Miss King?
The living never do
Especially not you living women
A living woman might just be the laziest creature on earth
As soon as one of you gives birth
Or bakes a cake
You act as if your life's mission has been completed
I wanted to strive for more in my life
I wanted to write a great novel
Something about the Ottoman Empire
But alas, I had to settle for novels about fishermen
And drunken Americans in Europe
Life is disappointment, Miss King
You might want to write that down
A quote from the dead Ernest Hemingway
Is worth quite a bit these days
Most people stop talking after they die
But I'm a little more persistent than most people
You know you're not an unattractive woman
I'm sure a fat man somewhere
Would enjoy domesticating you
Instead you waste your time playing tennis with dead writers
So that you can prove--what?
Are you hoping to prove every misogynist wrong
That ever lived?
I hope you have a lot of time, Miss King
And a thick skin, because--
--And you may not know this--
--I was an intensely good tennis player
Never lost a match in my life
I found no point in doing anything
I couldn't be the best at
Writing, tennis, making love to Mexican whores
Just a little joke on the end there
Just to break the ice
Always good to joke before a game
Perhaps afterward we could go out
And enjoy a drink or two?
I don't make it a habit of drinking with the living
But I suppose one time won't kill me...again
All right, let's play
And remember, it's not about who wins
It's about who is a winner
So in many ways, Miss King
You've already lost
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