Yes-we did share glasses of red wine. The look on his face was priceless when I answered his urgent call at my door. I was protected by Gracie, of course. He was expecting a feeble older lady to open the door. Think he was surprised?
And then there was the question of what to do with all the saran wrap.
"Tents...for the narcissi," I said to nosy Elspeth Huckleberry who'd wandered toward the neighborhood dumpster to let her corgi, Schnitzel, relieve himself. "Helps keep 'em blooming longer."
I untangled myself and shuffled into the ensuite pledging never to do that with Uzo again. My chin was bruised. Oh no the stubble. My corgis were tugging at something pink in the living room as I began processing I didn't have them..."You're up" the deep voice said. Oh boy.
I didn't even bother to open the door. I could see through it. I'd seen and known better. She was sleep apneaed out in another world long ago and far away beside me on our bed.
Well no worry the jaguar thing is solved, sadly. The one with the deep voice had found the pink things and the jaguars were not hungry after that. When SHE came back in with steaming cups of coffee and aspirins, deep voice thanked them for the fun, with no apologies. (I would have been really ashamed) He left abruptly.
So it was just the two of them again, along with the corgis, the satisfied jaguars, and a very messy house. Elspeth Huckleberry had already confiscated the saran wrap that was lying outside the bedroom window, she was no dummy, and she had a large patch of narcissi. (No one knew about the secret greenhouse, that supplemented her Social Security)
speaking of grey, she glanced in the mirror as he was leaving, holding his head and grumbling about the pink things the jaguars ate.
I have to do something about this hair she thought, with all this gray it is a wonder he even thinks I look good. She felt old. She looked reflectively at the photo on the dresser.
Love the bar scene here; women looking for the sugar daddy, men looking for the older woman to care for him and nary a soul at the bar can pay their own tab. opps off topic
or: as he entered all heads turned as if watching the flight of the ball at a tennis match.....
Nelson - lovely imagery the hollowness could be heard clear up here
...as he entered all heads turned as if watching the flight of the ball at a tennis match. You are mine the cougar spat. Hands off b*tch the jaguar shot back. Into that the bartender chimed "Who's going to pay?" he asked. And they all slunk back into the primordial mass. "I'm on a horse" they all thought. But of course the fact was that they were not.
luckly her new "red" hair caught the attention of a tall cowboy hiding in the shadows at the end of the bar. He likened the belch to the sound that his cows make, and he overcame his lonesome mood. He started towards the beautiful, red-haired older women...
..and as he was strolling on over with his thumbs in his belt loops and a toothpick in his pearly whites, (except for some rotten ones in the back), the other guy was looking for a dictionary, he could not believe he had sensed the word "incongruity", when he actually did not know what it meant.
Anyway, Red hair saw the tall drink of water coming her way, surprised she did not scare them all of with her cow belch. She reached up to fluff her hair. After all, she may be a rough and tough tomboy, but the female hormones were running strong. Then....
(I AM PEEING MY PANTS READING THIS THREAD< YOU GUYS ARE NUTS!!!!!! A HA HA HA HA)
Just then a small chiming sound let him know someone was texting him. Or, in this case, sexting him.
His jaw dropped; all thoughts of the redhead vanished. Spike, as he was known to those in his motorcycle club, was never capable of holding more than a single thought at a time when it came to women.
Let the long tall cowboy have that mad cow redhead he thought, as he was checking his message. Suddenly he had a big urge to pee, and he thought, oh yeah!!! In congruity, that means to pee quick or pee my pants.
or...was that incontinent....?
Anyway he headed towards the door to get to his chopper, and as he passed the cowboy loving cow belching woman she..
.... she knocked over his chopper which then hit the bike along side of his and the entire clubs bikes went down like dominos. Laughing loudly and uncontrolably he lost control and realized that stray thought vibe he received from thr redhead was "incontinent". Oh no he said as the dark stain greww
Gone were the worries he'd had about wearing the hair piece. If Donald Trump could wear a possum on his head, he could wear a rug. Beside you needed a brochure to tell who all the animals were. Cougars, jaguars, cowboys, and hogs. The sweat was beading on his forehead realizing he didn't really care about the chopper any more and just wanted to meat a woman who could appreciate him for what he was. Not like that witch last week who kept going on and on about how literature stimulated her. When he laughed out loud she snapped at him "I bet you never even read 'Death in Venice'. Man goes to Venice. Man dies. Hemingway would mince him and his snoreiferous self absorption getting over the speedbump of his own mortality. You get in the saddle and you ride. Otherwise your walking. He spied a likely candidate spinning a suburban construct of what he would be like and hurried over before she finished...
...saying to her, "Please lovely woman, could you tell me what Suburban construct, really means I have been in enough trouble already, what with mixing up congruity and incontinent, and peed my pants right in front of the redhead. I mean , WHAT THE SAM HELL IS GOING ON HERE?! What is the moral of it all?? Where is the woman of my dreams?"
...bent for leather, her hard thighs gripping the fuel tank taking curves at ridiculous speeds, she laughed at the risks and cranked the throttle. Fear was a male thing and she had no use for their peanuts...
She watched him tell his story, his chiseled jaw now protected by three, four, five chins she was counting when suddenly he laughed and his teeth jumped into his drink.
Ok start again...
She caught him looking at her and was startled to see the intent on his face....
If a first time visitor to this site started reading this thread, they would think we were all looney! LOL Sorry I can't add anything to this. Little too steamy for me. I'm like marilyninMD.
But there was something more here, a look of compassion on her face, and it touched him in a place that he thought had long since died. Ever since that early morning in San Francisco on Silver Street when he'd had to say goodbye to....
Mary (Red) who has since earned a star*. She always said that when she posted on the Alzheimer's Spouse site, all discussions seemed to stop. But what he remembered about her was that when he'd been on shore leave and lonely, she'd invited him home to meet her family. All of that was long before he'd knifed a guy when he'd been drinking and spent some time in jail. What if she were to come around the corner right now, what would she say to him?
Yes, she's the one who trained Claire's Andrew. I suspect she's put on her bluest dress and is on a cruise ship (check out her photos on the Alzheimer's cruise) and is scouting out new talent. Charlotte and she are going to try to clone him. I have a preference for tall sandy-haired males and am sending her my order tonight. Also, if he can cook, that would be good.
An announcement blared forth from a P.A. speaker, which had heretofore existed inobtrusively (not to mention in incongruity) behind the flatscreen t.v. on the bar's eastern wall: "Would the characters in this story be so kind as to stand up and identify themselves? Otherwise, we will not know whether to include you in further plot twists. Thank you." The announcement ended with that thwipping noise that means the P.A. has been turned off.
Stunned, they looked toward the thwipped sound, then at each other. Not one stood, not the forbidden fruits or any cowbelching, fully blossomed motorcycle riding whiskey slugging women. Certainly no turgid cowboy bounty hunters with hair swept over or slick. They were all caught in a moment of complete silence but only for that moment. Someone put a nickle in the jukebox.
...tears flowed and broken hearts were warmed as the characters made themselves known. The sound of soothing classical music instead of "My achy break heart", softly wafted over the smoky silent room; as the turgid crowd waited. (lol) Then, they stood up...