~Cowpoke Paradise~ God I don’t want to be here. I’ll never know why I thought that, perhaps it was a premonition through the force or the fact that Mick had no idea what a REAL Boston Crème Pie tastes like, but I was loathing sitting there in Mick’s Diner. It’s hot, but barely cooler than the furnace outside. Damn this Phoenix heat. I undo another button on my shirt as I gaze around the small, sweltering diner. The booth to my right holds a couple eating each other with their eyes. Two people in love. Bah. They are probably cheating on their outdated spouses. Get it over with already, there’s a Holiday Inn down that way with free HBO…but I doubt you’ll watch that. I see a young punk huddled on the end of the counter wearing a huge oversized snow coat. I inadvertently shiver, I don’t know how, it’s bloody hot. Is he heading north to one of the resorts in Utah? It doesn’t matter; as soon as his rebellion ends it’ll be more of my tax dollars wasted to ‘further his education’. God I could be relaxing on a boat on the Cod, but no I’m eating a dry sandwich instead of the pie and I’m slowly evaporating. The door jingles. Jingle. Jingle. Bloody hell why does this dull unknowing Mick have an overly attentive string of balls clanking together? Is he trying some covert way to communicate with Roswell or is he compensating for something? Perfect, in walks a feeble computer geek who could pass as Spock’s nephew. Irony, no pocket protector, must be trying to break the mold…check that, it’s in his left ass pocket. I wonder what would happen if an anvil fell on top of him? Would he start accordianing down the isle or become a human paperweight with an area for pencil storage at the city morgue? God I don’t want to be here. Why did I listen to that attractive brunette travel agent? “Phoenix is a cowpokes paradise.†I guess it’s my own fault I listened to her, believing a guy from Boston could wrasle up some good ol’ fashion yeehaws. Chalk one up for the history lesson. I should have stuck with “Las Vegas, The land of make be-.†Jingle. There those damn balls go bouncing together again. I turn away from my flat coke and see… I must be dreaming, but the nice pinch mark on my arm is giving me the told-you-so glare. In walks this highly attractive brown eyed bombshell, and believe me, she’s packing. Why is she wearing a short skirt and shrunken top? Is she trying to get married guys in trouble? She is walking past the couple making out in their booth (Do it in the bathroom at least, that way you know you’re not paying cable) The punk is to busy to look, the geek is googling over Magic the Gathering cards (no wonder he’s alone.) She looks my way, and walks over smiling. I look around and see no back door and for some reason, I stand, trying to be gallant apparently. She stops and waits for me to say something devilishly charming. A pick up line forms but before it gets past, “So…†She smacks me across the face. “That’s for flipping me offin Tucson.†God I don’t want to be here.
lol this truly captures the essence of a man , in a moody day. or atleast a very bad day and a cranky man. nice work. everything that might otherwise be something normal turns irritating. thus the smart craking comments.
Heh, I liked it. Especially the part where she just whacks him. It came out of nowhere. XD But I liked it. Good job.
again? well, i guess its all mental.... wow, you passed the test shades, your work is good to go.. :)
