Champion Sax And A Girl Named Sandra

Champion Sax and a Girl Named ... 

What the hell does that mean anyway?

"Just what are you doing on Facebook?" I asked Sandra, the woman I'd been seeing for the last several weeks.

"Same as everybody else.  Irrevocably wasting up to one-third of my remaining life span."

"That's not what I mean," I said.  "Why are you using a current picture of yourself on your Facebook page?  You're a Boomer, just like me. Even the best of us peaked over 20 years ago."

"Oh, so you're saying I should be like you, using a picture that's so old it's approaching puberty?  Don't I look okay just like this?"

"I think you look great. But why not bamboozle the virtual world into thinking you look even greater?”

"Okay, if you want I'll post a younger picture of myself. But, Perry, you're too focused on appearance. You have other fine attributes more important than appearance."

"What are they?"

"Can I get back to you on that?"

As Sandra went to get a picture of her younger self, I called after her.

"I've been wondering: why doesn't anyone call you Sandy?"

"They used to, but then back in college people started calling me Champion Sax and a Girl Named Sandy."

"That's adorable!"

"Not if you hate the Doors," she said, returning to the room. “Anyway, here's the picture." 

I looked, blinked, and gasped.  And gasped again.

"Why you ... you ... look like ...  Scarlett Johansson! You look like … Mila Kunis!  You look like …. the child of Scarlett Johansson and Mila Kunis should there be such a thing!”

"Well, thanks, I guess back in the day, people said ...”

"I don't think you should post this picture."

"Why?"

“Because there's a lot of perverts out there!  A lot of guys with thick dandruff and coke bottle glasses named Kitchell who'll be salivating over you while building full-size models of the Starship Enterprise in their parents' basements!”

"So I'll block them, no problem."

"And there's lots of radical groups and terrorists, some of which may try to recruit you!”

“You don’t think I know enough to avoid terrorists?”

’’What if they’re giving double coupons?  And there’s cool guys of Boomer age with full heads of thick gray hair who may be charming and accomplished and interested in you!”

"Well, that doesn't sound bad."

"Doesn't sound bad?!  Post this picture and before long you're engaged to some good-looking Boomer who turns out to be an unrepentant Doors Fan who listens to the Soft Parade while he dresses up like Robby Krieger!"

"First you say ‘post it,’ then you say ‘don't post it.’"

“Let's just say I’ve evolved on the issue. Like Republican presidential candidates do."

"Okay ... okay ... I won't post it."

"Good!  Now how about we go out for coffee?”

"Sure.”

"Oh, one more thing?"

"Yes."

"Can I have the picture?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Consolation (FF)

 © Melanie Greenwood

FF-Friday Fictioneers

Never fails, I thought in disgust.

Here I am in the middle seat again, sandwiched between the two finalists for the starring role in "Chris Christie; the Early Years" and one row ahead is a really hot blond sitting all by herself.

Come on, Perry, show some guts! "If not now, when? If not me, who?"  I think it was the Biblical sage Rabbi Hillel who uttered those words, and I believe he was considered quite the babe magnet back in the day.

"Stewardess, I'd like to move to the center seat in the next row."

"I'm sorry, sir, but they're shooting a reality show and that seat is reserved for a hot young guy.'

"Yeah but ...."

"Clearly you'd ruin the show. But as consolation ..."

Yes?

"Here's an extra bag of salted nuts."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having taken the last two weeks off from the Friday Fictioneers, it's good to be back as I know you've all missed me.

Umm ... it's Perry.  Perry Block, that is.  From Philadelphia.   Personal friend of Russell Gayer?  It's Perry!  Perry Block!!

Well anyway, this is my personal take on the picture prompt above, and if you click here you can read the stories of the other Friday Fictioneers, one or two of whom might own up to knowing me.

See you next week. 

Perry!  Perry Damn Block!!! 

The Quintessential Boomer Band (FF)

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

"Wouldn't you know it, Michelle?  Just as we get to the concert it starts really storming!"

"Sure is, Perry! I move we wait in the car until it slows a bit."

"Agreed.  Although I hate to be late for Steely Dan." 

"I still can't believe you talked me into this."

"Michelle, Steely Dan is the quintessential Boomer band!  Second only to the Beatles." 

"Need I remind you, Perry, it's only our second date and I'm a post-Boomer?"

"Okay, okay.  Say Michelle ..."

"Yes?"

"Since we're stuck here in the rain and .. um .. we're totally alone, how 'bout you and me ..."

"Wow!" I thought.  "I've never seen anyone bolt that fast out of a car and into the pouring rain!  I guess she really does want to see Steely Dan after all."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, it's raining, it's pouring, and it wouldn't have worked out with Michelle anyway. I'm a Boomer and she's a post Boomer. I'm formerly cute and she's currently cute. She's Jewish and I'm a Jehovah's Witness. Lots of problems.

I don't really know if Steely Dan is the quintessential Boomer band, but I think a lot of Boomers who grew up with them dig their off-beat style, intriguing lyrics, and just plain catchy music. I can't speak for millennials.  What I can do, however, is speak for the Friday Fictioneers, whose work is always quintessential and available for you to check out by clicking here.

"Michelle, wait, come out of the rain!  I'll do anything for you.  I'll even become Jewish!"

Brief Encounter

Jeannie?  Perhaps ...

"Perry!" I heard a voice come up behind me. "Perry, is that you?"

I was in a local department trying to purchase a pair of socks that might fit me without creating indentations in my ankles the size of the Grand Canyon when I heard the sweet voice.  I turned around and there she was.  

It was Jeannie, the cute accountant who I'd worked with at my former job. She looked pretty as ever and her reddish hair was feathered and hung casually and attractively to her shoulders.

"Jeannie!" I exclaimed. "How are you?  It's great to see you!" 

I'd had a crush on Jeannie almost since I'd met her, although I'd never acted on it. Aside from the inconvenient fact that she was married, I had never pursued it because of:

1) Proper concern for the company's Anti-harassment Policy
2) Lack of guts, and
3) Did I mention lack of guts?

And now here she was before me. And she was looking ...

"Super! You look super, Jeannie!"

"You're looking well too, Perry," she said.

Shit, I'm only looking well!  Only well?!! 

"Yes... um ... but Jeannie, would you like to see some pictures of me when I still cute?  I have them here."

"No, thanks, Perry. You've shown me those pictures many times, once twice in one day."

"So-o-o,"  I said, "how have you been since the old company?"

"Well, not good at first. There were money problems, then marital problems.  Then I got divorced."

DIVORCED!!! Fantastic!  Fireworks!! Marching Bands!!! The Fourth of July!!!!

"Oh, gee, I'm sorry, Jeannie.  I'm genuinely sorry."

"That's okay, Perry.  It's better now."

Here at long last was my Golden Opportunity!  Onward, Jewish soldier! Guts, man, guts!

"Jeannie, would you like to get a cup of coffee?"

"Why, I'd love to."

She said YES!!!  In my mind, we were already gazing longingly into each others' eyes, in bed exploring every position imaginable in the Kama Sutra, applying for social security online together ....

"Oh, wait a minute," she said.  "I won't have time. I'm meeting Charlie at 5:00." 

"Uhh ... who's Charlie?"

"My fiance.  He got me through the divorce and we fell for each other."

Fell for each other?! Like from a building? Hope he broke something!!!

"He's wonderful," rhapsodized Jeannie. "Say, how's Brandon?"

"He's ... he's... going to college or something. Something or other."

"Goodbye, Perry," she called as she scurried away. "Loved seeing you," 

"Loved seeing you too," I choked. "Best to good ol' Charlie!"

Well, at least my trip to the department store wasn't a total loss.

At least I got socks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, Baby!

Now what could be cuter than that?

One of the lousy things about being older is that your kids are grown and gone.  And you really miss the days when they were little. 

Lately I've developed a keen interest in babies because it takes me back to the fond days when I had teeny weeny ones myself. I just love it when I have the chance to enjoy other people's little ones.  Unfortunately, sometimes annoying distractions get in the way.

The other day a very attractive young blonde woman with a baby carriage almost bumped into me as she was leaving the deli and I was entering. 

"I'm so,so sorry, sir," she said sweetly. 

"No problem,"  I replied. "Say, aren't you a beautiful baby!"" 

"Please call me Julie."

"No, what's the baby's name?"

"Oh, it's Max."

"Hello, Max!  Aren't you a big, big boy?  Yes you are, yes you are!"

"You seem like a very caring man," she said, pushing back her luxurious blonde tresses with both hands.

"Thanks.  And how old are you Maxela, you little cute-patootie?"

"Twelve months,"  she sighed, her pouty upturned lips quivering sensually,  "He's a handful, though, especially since I'm raising him alone."

Now why do I have to know that? 

"Max, are you sleeping through the night yet?  I'll bet you are, big boy, I'll bet you are!"

"Thankfully, he is," she said, turning her incredibly shapely body fully in my direction. "It's been very rough for me since his dad left."

Bummer, I'm sure.  But I'm trying to talk to Max here!

"You have a big beautiful smile, Maxie!  And terrific blue eyes!"

"His father was just too young.  I prefer older more mature men."

Frankly,  I was beginning to get a little tired of hearing about this beautiful woman's problems. 

"Soon, Maxela, you'll be  walking, talking, getting into all kinds of trouble ..."

"I've always liked Jewish men too." 

Who the hell cares?!!

"You're in for exciting things ahead, Max Man!" 

"Me too, I hope."

Enough was enough was enough!  

"Well, miss, gotta go..."

"Please call me Julie."

"Sure, miss.   Bye, Max! I loved meeting you, Big Guy!"

"Wait, would you like to maybe have coffee?"

"Nah."  

"I'll buy.  Dinner too!" 

Unbelievable.  Can't you admire some one's child these days without them practically wrapping their gorgeous legs around you and rubbing their ample breasts against you?

I began to walk away.  Adorable baby, but very obnoxious strikingly breathtaking mom.

"Wait, wait, please!" she shouted after me. "I love sex!"

Incredible.   

Can anyone beat that for TMI?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Seagulls

It was just one of those days.  I was walking by the bay and there she was:   young, pretty, and absorbed in her sketch book, rendering the seagulls as they splashed and stretched near the shore.

"The seagulls are graceful whatever they do," I said, hoping for a response.

"Oh, yes," she replied, "they're positively enchanting!"'

"Enchanting,” I repeated, quite encouraged.

“I love them so much, and I’m so happy to meet you!”

Still got it, I thought!  

 "How long have you loved the seagulls?"

"Why, all my life!  They're my grandparents."

"Your grandparents?!"

"Yes, Herbert and Elsie Siegel. I just assumed you were one of Grampy's oldest and dearest friends."

Know what?  I hate seagulls. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yes, I hate seagulls so much I wrapped up this contribution to the Friday Fictioneers in a very respectable 117 words.  If I had gotten anywhere with Grampy's granddaughter, I'd probably have had me a book.

It's a good thing I didn't talk with her about the beauty of seagulls in flight because she'd probably have thought I was talking about  Herbert and Elsie's frequent trips to their condo in Boca.  Anyway, for more cogent and less depressing takes on the Siegels --- I mean, on the seagulls ---  click here and take wing with the other fictioneers!

Well, I'm off to dinner with the Siegels.  Who knows?  Maybe Elsie has a younger sister.

Better Than He Imagined

This one is almost too easy ...

The date had gone far better than Perry had ever imagined it would.

"Hurry, help me out of this dress!"  Angela cried as they returned to her apartment.

Perry's nervous fingers trembled as he unzipped the back of her dress and fairly well ripped the garment from her body.

"Do it now! Please! Now!" she shouted.

Perry began rubbing and stroking,  ever striving toward full and total satisfaction.   

More!  More!!  Harder!!!  Harder!!!!!

Finally, he was spent. 

"Didja get the ketchup stain out?" called Angela from the next room.

"Yeah, kinda," Perry replied.  "Maybe you ought hang this thing outside now to dry."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

My first X-rated post for the Friday Fictioneers!  That is, X-rated as in X marks the spot where the ketchup stain used to be.

Wherever the stain was, the picture prompt is up above and the story's below, and this week I came in (poor word choice!) at a respectable 102 words, two above the prescribed limit. If you're ready to slip into something more comfortable for the other Friday Fictioneers, well, X marks the spot to find them here.

"More!  OMG!  Please More!"   Yep, more Flash Fiction next week.

The Well-Read Dude

".... Dickens, Flaubert, James Joyce ... I've always said you have the best personal library I've ever seen, Charles!"

"Thank you, Perry."

"Actually, Charles, I was kind of wondering if  ...  would it be okay for me to borrow a couple of books over the weekend?"

"Sure, I'm always happy to encourage reading in my friends."

"Well, it's not exactly that.  See, I've finally got myself a date Saturday, and I'd like to leave some impressive looking books lying around half open."

"Perry, that's terrible!  But I guess it's okay."

"Thanks, Charles!  Oh, Milton's Paradise Lost,  there's one I'd like to take!"

"No, sorry, can't loan that one."

"Why not?"

"Got myself a date Saturday too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's open and shut.  In compliance with the rules of the Fabulous Friday Fictioneers, the week's picture prompt is above and my 100 word story below it.  Only my story is 115 words, so go ahead and book me, Danno!  

And don't tell me some of you guys have never pulled the ploy utilized above, and perhaps some of you women have too.  It was also referenced in Woody Allen's Play it Again, Sam. 

Does it work?  Maybe for Charles!  The rest of us ought to pick out a good book to read for the weekend, or check out the library of other Fictioneers' entries by clicking here.

The Stud

In his day he'd been a bolt of lightning, a champion beyond equal.  But his day being done, Silver Flash was retired to a farm in upstate New York to create new champions as fast as the bolt of lightning he had once been.

But Silver Flash shied away from the waiting fillies, brooding by himself in the corner of the corral. 

"What do I have to do?" I pleaded.  "Play Barry White music?  Show you racy pictures of My Friend Flicka?"

Silver Flash grabbed a thin wobbly garden hose spurting a small spray of water and pulled it towards me. 

"Don't worry, old boy!" I said.  "Number One, you are a horse.  And Number Two, I know for sure you're not Jewish."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Picture prompt above, story below, and at 124 words it's over the limit but hardly a word runaway. Hope you're not too disappointed the story is about a race horse and not about me as you obviously expected and eagerly anticipated. 

This is my weekly contribution to the Fabulous Friday Fictioneers and Stallion Stud Service Society. Click the link when you're ready to rear up and mount the posts of the many other ready, willing,  and talented Fictioneers.

Whoa, boy, that's the spirit!  See you next week. 

Lilies, or the Seduction

No, Jimbo hadn't lied.  His apartment was fantastic with a dynamite view of the city, sumptuous furnishings, and for the next 48 hours, mine all mine! He'd even left sweet smelling fresh cut lilies on the window sill. 

"Hope you like my place," I said, turning the key at 2:00 A.M. 

"Love it!" she squealed. "What did you say you do again?"

"I'm a risk arbitrager. Or arbitrary risker, something like that.  Now how about we get ...."

"OH, NO, LILIES!  I'm very allergic!"

"Well, we'll just get rid of them then!"

"AHHH-CCCHHHOOO!!!  No, once I'm exposed, I'm a mess for the next 48 hours!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Picture prompt above, story below, and at 107 words I'm not too far off the pace of 100 this week and nowhere near as far off the pace as I was with the abortive seduction of some years past sadly recounted herein.

This is my weekly contribution to the Fabulous Flying Friday Fictioneers and Lily Lover Legionnaires Association. Click the link when you're ready to spend 48 hours or so enjoying the posts of the other Fictioneers/Legionnaires, each and every one of which is nothing to sneeze at.

Sorry, got to go now.  I've a lot of arbitrary risking to do if I'm ever going to afford my own place like this!