And Yet Another Shocking Accusation

 Ms. Carlyle levels her shocking allegation 

  Just when you thought the shocking accusations had come to an end, another woman has come forward and leveled a claim of blatant sexual harassment and depravity regarding Donald Trump.

The woman, Jane Carlyle of Collingswood NJ, has alleged that she has never been sexually harassed or assaulted in any manner whatsoever by either Donald Trump or Bill Clinton.  Despite the fact that she has never met either man, Ms. Carlyle asserts that they each had ample opportunity throughout Ms. Carlyle’s 37 years to endeavor to meet her and attempt to pressure her to have sex with them.

This is the first known instance in which a woman has approached the media to allege that neither the present Republican candidate for President of the United States nor the 42nd President of the United States has ever groped or fondled her.

“It’s been a harrowing experience,” said Carlyle, an accountant from Collingswood NJ. “I vividly recall the evening of March 14, 2008.  I came home from work, watched some TV, and went to bed.  I had absolutely no contact with Mr. Trump or Mr. Clinton whatsoever, let alone unwelcome sexual assault!"  

Both Donald Trump and Bill Clinton have vigorously denied that they did not come on to Carlyle, and Mr.Trump has even suggested he rounded the bases.

For his part, Bubba just sighed.

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The Legendary Jewish Vampire Meets Trump

I don't know many celebrities, but I am privileged to know at least one. And the one I know is not your average Kardashian but one of the shadowy and dark Legions of the Undead.

He is the  Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer! 

I met Vlad some years again during  a vampire onslaught in Philadelphia and we became fast friends after we determined that he was allergic to my blood type, especially after I heavily seasoned it with garlic.  

"Vlad!"  I exclaimed, as he flew through my window in bat-like form and transformed himself before my very eyes into someone who looked like your Uncle Murray, only with fangs. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Sure," he replied,"I'd love to crack open a veinski!"

"You'll take a Cokeski.  What brings you here?"

"I heard some idiot is running for President of your country. Thought maybe I could rip his throat out for you?"

After some discussion, we decided that  compared to forming a Political Action Committee, raising 75 million dollars, hiring a top-notch public relations firm, developing highly polished negative advertising, and purchasing air time for the highly polished negative advertising from coast to coast, ripping Donald Trump's throat out might be a pretty good alternative.  

So we headed for North Carolina where Trump was speaking, me on a commercial airliner and Vlad in the avatar of a flying rodent in a fetching cape. 

"I'll go on ahead," said Vlad, "and when I get there, I'll order you someone ... I mean, something to eat."

When I arrived I found Vlad aghast at something he'd seen.  He wasn't all right now, in fact he was aghast!   (rimshot!) 

"What does that sign mean - Trump Pence?" he asked.  "This jerk is already renaming your money after himself?"

"No, no, it's not that," I answered, "we don't have pence in America. That refers to Mike Pence, Trump's running mate; he holds the indoor record for haircuts in a hour."

"Foreigners are pouring into our country!" Trump shouted.  "Muslims, Mexicans, Benedict Cumberbatch!"

"Damn," sniffed Vlad, "he doesn't like anybody, does he?"

"He likes Vladimir Putin," I whispered. "They hang out, discuss totalitarianism, plan traitorous acts against the United States, and admire each other's nipples."

"I'm building a wall!" he cried.

"He's building a wall?" said Vlad. "Around his mouth, I hope. Who's that big fat guy?" 

"That's Chris Christie.  He's the shameless, ass-licking, opportunistic  Governor of New Jersey."

"Well, he looks delicious! And who's the hottie next to him?"

"That's Melania, Trump's third wife. Trump manufactured her in one of his plants in Malaysia."

"And Transylvania isn't sending us their best!" bellowed Trump. "They're sending vampires, they're sending werewolves, they're sending the Bride of Frankenstein. Huh, I wonder if her pussy has those electric streaks like her head hair ...."

"That's it!" cried Vlad, leaping into the air towards the stage."Insulting the Bride of Frankenstein, that idiot is toast! Rye toast with chopped chicken liver and a dash of hemoglobin!"

"Go get 'em, Vlad!" I  yelled.

Vlad assumed the shape of a bat and swooped across the crowd directly toward Trump, then took a swift  detour straight toward the shapely neck of Melania Trump!

"Vlad, what are you doing?"  I cried. "I thought you were going to meet, greet, and eat Trump!"

"Sorry, man. If I have to spend eternal life with anybody, I think I might prefer the mannequin to the orange-haired idiot." 

And they were off. 

So maybe the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer didn't fully get the job done.

But for a blood-sucking creature of the night, he's a mensch.

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                                     Dinner!                                          

When Perry Doesn't Know Your Name

Excuse me if I've forgotten your name.

I'm terrible with names.

Always have been.  And it's been quite a challenge going through life referring to co-workers, friends, and the women I've been married to as "Hey, you!"   

When I meet a new person I'm always hoping to make a good impression. I plump up my hair, wipe the crud off the corners of my mouth, and desperately strive for a rakish smile instead of my normal goofy one.

And then I say "Hi, my name is Perry Block, nice to meet you."

And the other person says "Hello, happy to meet you too. I’m Blabble Blabble."

The problem is I have so focused my attention on not coming off like an idiot that I have completely missed the critical Official Presentation of my new acquaintance's name. 

Thereafter I am terrified to encounter this person. Should I spot them in public, I dart across the street, hide behind a mailbox, or move to Australia.

If I can’t avoid talking with them, I produce a muttered greeting and rapidly excuse myself as being late for yoga, which I only started this year but have been using as my all-purpose excuse since 1974.

Sometimes I catch a break.  The person I’ve just met is one of those folks who loves to tell long stories and pepper them from start to finish with rampant over usage of their own name:

“So Ralph says to me ‘Joan, I have a question.  Joan, what would you do about this?  Joan, how would you handle it? I’m counting on you, Joan.  Joan … Joan … Joan! Guess what, Joan? I forgot my question!”

After this level of overkill I’m not sure if I should call this person “Joan” or “Annoying Narcissist from Hell.”

Several weeks ago at a cousin’s Bar Mitzvah I was introduced to a woman in the receiving line. Two minutes later I realized that I had forgotten her name. 

An hour later I saw her at the bar.

Should I just ask her name?  But then she’ll know I wasn’t paying attention when we first met.

What if she throws a drink in my face? 

What if it’s scotch and I’ve been drinking gin all afternoon?

“Hello again,” I said.

“Oh, hi!" she said brightly. "I was just trying to remember your name.”

It’s Perry,” I replied, totally relieved and doing a quick double-check of my hair, mouth, and smile.

“Sure, Perry! Nice to see you again.  I’m Blabble Blabble.”

Oh crap.

Did it again.

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

How Lovely by the Lake (FF)

FF - Friday Fictioneers

© CEAyr

 "How lovely by the lake!" I thought, settling into a chair on the patio of the rustic inn.

“Think I'll do me a bit of fishing," I decided, and I flung my fishing rod into the water.

"Sir, would you like some quiche?" offered a waiter.  “On the house."

Just then a beautiful woman approached me.

"Excuse me," she cooed,"would you like to spend time with me?”

"Of course!” I responded.

"Great, wanna go to a Trump rally?”

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I woke up screaming.

"What a nightmare!  I'm a Jew, I don't go fishing!  And I hate cheese!

"Only good thing was that girl who liked Trump.  Anyone that clueless would have been putty in my hands!"

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Putty in my hands?  In my life, putty  isn't even putty in my hands.  Anyway I don't think I'd really want to spend much time with a woman who'd vote for Trump.  Find me a girl who loves Adlai Stevenson! (Look him up, Millennials!)

You can find your own figurative inn by the lake if you click here and toss the ol' fishing rod into the stories by the other Friday Fictioneers in response to the picture prompt above. None of them will try to hustle you off to a Trump rally.

Me, I'm going back to sleep. "What's that, young lady?  You remember Adlai?  We-l-l-l-l-l ... Good night, all!"