“How do I look?”
What could I say? C.W. looked like weird, even for him. Remember
those male models they used to put in the old Sears catalogs? I’m talking about
the men advertising work wear, guys who looked like lawyers wearing work shirts,
work pants, and steel-toed boots. Only he had this orange tint on a face topped
off with a red baseball cap that said, “Make Everyone Reject Democrats,” under
the large letters spelling out “MERD.”
“You look … uh, … swell.”
“I thought so. Are you ready to go?’
“I’m not sure I can. I have a lot to do around here.”
“Nonsense. You’ve got to be my modified forelimb that bears
large feathers man.”
“I’m not sure I want to be your ‘wing man’ in that getup.”
“Nonsense. We’re going to score on some chickee babies, grab
‘em you know where.”
“I’m not sure my wife would allow that. Besides, I’m behind
on my chores.”
“Nonsense. We’re going to wow the babes. I guarantee it.” He
paused. “Oh, and speaking of Mrs. Big Dope, is she going with us?”
“Hardly. Don’t you remember? She said she would never be
seen in public with you again after last time.”
“Nonsense. That wasn’t my fault. How was I to know that
woman was a TV evangelist?”
“The forty pounds of jewelry and five layers of makeup,
along with hair standing up a foot high might have given you clues.”
“I though she may have been a politician, state senator or
something.”
“Your pickup line didn’t help.”
“I forget what it was.”
“Pardon me miss, didn’t I meet you at the meeting of the Existentialism
Club last night?”
“Oh, yeah. Didn’t work too well, did it?”
“It got worse after you did realize what she did for a
living.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Would you get on your knees for Jesus?”
“No. Really?”
“And go with him, with him, all the way?”
“I was just trying to speak in her vernacular. I don’t know
why she got mad.”
“That’s the trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
“She didn’t get mad. Don’t you recall?”
“She’s not the one who …?”
“Yeah. She’s the one.”
“She had a nice house.”
“It took us forever to find you.”
“It had over forty rooms.”
“Do you want to go back?”
He blanched and shook his head. “No,” was all he said.
“Now you know why I don’t want to go with you.”
“Nonsense. Bar springing lightly is fun.”
“Bar ‘hopping’ is far from fun with you, and besides, that
wasn’t your worst pickup line.”
“Oh? I had others you didn’t like?”
“Let’s cut out the small talk and start some serious
bargaining. I bid one kiss on the ear.”
“I used that one?”
“I like sex infrequently. Care to find out if that’s one
word or two?”
“No, really?”
“A quiver-full begins with a quiver. Want to help string my
bow?”
“I’m not believing I said that.”
“Oh, it gets worse.”
“Nonsense.”
“Remember the one about the difference between walking up
and sticking it in, and sticking it in and walking up?”
“I don’t remember that. Besides. I’ve learn about salvation
through sincere contrition and penitence.”
 |
| Please. Don't ask. - C.W. |
“Big hair.”
“She taught you about redemption?”
“Oh, she taught me many things that have made me a better
person, or imitation person, or whatever.”
“I still don’t want to go with you.”
“I’ve learned my lesson. Trust me. I’ve gone straight.” He
stopped, thought, and grabbed a pad and pencil from his pocket. He began to
write and nod, saying “How would you like to get something straight between us?”
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