Sleeping Beauties

Once upon a time, when I was young, there was no internet.
I know.
The world was dark and terrible then.

Back then, in the ancient of days, I would take any chance I could to wander off into Waldenbooks, hoping to sneak a furtive, desperate glance at this (and other such books), praying no one saw me.
It seems so tame now. 

Anyway, I found this (Ken Haak's Sleeping Beauties) today at a charity book fair, nestled in the "Art book" section. It was 50 cents, so, of course, I had to buy it.

I just have to wonder which poor soul evil queen  died so that this book could finally find its way into my bed?

(Oh, how I would squint desperately at this one, trying to get a faint glimpse of peen. No wonder I need contacts now)

(I always wondered, "what the hell is he doing with that chapstik and change anyway?").

(oh, but these are the images that life long insecurities are made of.)



And they lived neurotically ever after.