Month: July 2016

Coffee, black and…cover your lady parts.

On my way to a café, the other day, in one of those towns where the uber hipsters hang out, I thought I’d park my car a little further away so I could get a little refreshing walk in. I crossed the street and made a quick left, heading to the café in the middle of the block.

Ahead of me were two young women. One of them had a head of bright blond hair with dark brown streaks in it, topped with a blue thingy wrapped around her hair ending in a long ponytail. She had on a colorful; I don’t know what you call it, a Halter top that exposed her belly button and a blue, short skirt that had frills on the ends near her knees. On her feet were beige-colored platform style shoes with straps that went up her ankles.

All of a sudden, she rolled her ankle, tripped and went down. She rolled over on her butt and as I walked to her to help her up, I noticed that she had no underwear on. It seemed like an eternity as I reached for her hand to help her up. She looked at me for a moment and said, “Did you like what you saw?”

I said, “No. You could use a trim or a Brazilian, maybe, or dye it the same as what’s on your head.” I smiled, and turned into the café. I then ordered a coffee, black, no sugar or cream. I wanted a brownie, but they didn’t have any that day, so I got one of those large, soft, chocolate chip cookie. I went and sat down on a vacant sofa and waited for my comrades to come. I was going to read some of my poetry, that day.

I was just about to get comfy when that young lady marched over to me. She stood there for a second then bent over to say something to me that only I could have heard.

“Are you some kind of pervert?” She said…her eyes wide, her face almost expressionless. I was shocked, but only for a second or two.

Looking dead into her eyes I said, “Youngster, I have seen, touch, tasted, and played with over xxx women in my lifetime. I am over xx years old and that,” pointing at her crotch, “doesn’t excite me as much as it did when I was your age.”

I looked up at her and smiled, then added, “Besides, a pervert would have had a camera and took plenty of pictures. My camera was in my pocket.”

She straightened up and put her hands on her hips. I noticed the corner of her lip started to erect into a tiny smile. I figured she wanted to burst out laughing, but she didn’t. She turned and started to walk out of the café. I noticed, as she walked away, her rear end was sashaying, a definite prominence that she didn’t have as she was walking down the street.

At that moment I realized, I had lied to her. Something I don’t do often, fibbing, not telling the truth. I did get excited, just a little, a tiny bit. Just enough to let me know, I’m still human.

Forty-five minutes later, as I sat listening to one of my friends read their poems, that youngster walked back onto the café, over to me and whispered into my ear, “can I get a ride home?”

 

 

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One hell of an answer.

I have a sign on my door, stating: “Please no soliciting”. It’s been there for over a year. In that past, year and a half, a handful of people have knocked on my door.
Once, a bunch of old ladies, knocked. I mentioned the sign and one of them told me that soliciting was about prostitution. I told them to be on their way (not really but it was implied).
On another occasion, a boy knocked, I mentioned the sign and he too mentioned that soliciting was only about prostitution. I could only shake my head in disgust. Don’t they teach these kids anything in school these days?
Anyway, today, two young girls knocked. I mentioned the sign, again and the oldest of the two said, “That means selling something…and we are not selling anything, we are asking for something.
Again I just shook my head…I then said, “Soliciting means asking for anything, not just selling.”
She retorted, “…it means selling, My Mother is a lawyer.”
I mentioned what other people do in life and what does that have to do with you not knowing what the word means, and I am a writer, I know words. I then said “GOOGLE IT!”
“It means, selling something, My Mother is a lawyer.”
I could only shake my head in total dismay and disgust. Maybe her mother should be a teacher or something because these kids nowadays know nothing!

A Study in Orange and Black

monarch-butterfly-grass.jpg.adapt.945.1

Chaos

Fire and steel, molten

red malevolence poured

from vessel to vessel,

Chaos.

 

A river of steel flowing growing

smaller, pounded, beaten, flattened,

drenched, cooled,

Chaos.

 

A whistle blaring, a train’s

coming laden with ore splattering

its contents down the side,

Chaos.

 

Sparks fly like static electricity

dancing in the air, sizzling

aimlessly, alight near a flowerless plant

growing in the orange rust colored ground,

Chaos.

 

On that same plant, a butterfly

A spectacle beholding,

a Monarch, or maybe…

Chaos?

Earth

Earth

Image converted using ifftoany

“Ryko, we are home again.”

“Yes, its been over 20 million years.”

“Why did our people leave?”

“The planet was bombarded by asteroids. 40 million years later, we developed the technology to leave. Let’s leave the ship and greet our people.”

 

“Joey, don’t stare at the dinosaur people from space.”