Flash Fiction #235

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

YOU CAN’T GET THERE FROM HERE

How do you get to the K-W Oktoberfest Parade??!
Well, I wouldn’t start from here.

Summer road construction diversions were completed in time for the autumn detours.

Just go around the big COVID Obstruction, then straight through the Bicycle Virtue-Signalling Snafu, where 5000 traffic cones have produced cycling lanes, but reduced miles of four-lane major streets to two-lane parking lots.

Seating in beer tents will be every third chair, and special Pandemic masks, with little holes to drink beer through straws will be provided.

Extra test kits, and extra hospital staff, will be on hand.  Have fun, but stay safe.  👿

***

I published a post some years ago, https://archonsden.wordpress.com/2012/07/30/you-cant-get-there-from-here/ with the above title, describing traffic problems on local streets, which were laid out by cattle, rather than surveyors.  The City has gotten bigger, but so have the traffic problems.

Last year, we had 700,000 people attend Oktoberfest in 9 days.  At this time, the 2020 Oktoberfest is still a go. with – what is hoped are – sufficient safeguards.  There will be no parade, and fest-halls will not be as crowded as elevators.  The Oktoberfest Committee seem to be hoping that COVID – rather than a chunk of the population – will be dead by Canadian Thanksgiving, or a vaccine available.

My home is out on the West side of town, so that prevailing winds should blow any infection away from me.  I’ve installed HEPA filters on the air intakes, and won’t be leaving the house for over a week.  😆

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple https://rochellewisoff.com/ site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Walkin’ In Memphis

Pregnant

A co-worker once tried to set me up with her pregnant nanny. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know about the baby bump till afterward.

In later years, I was awed and amazed at how much I walked when I was younger. As a child, I walked miles and miles of my hometown, including three paper routes. I had a bicycle, but there were times and places where bikes did not go – or were left unattended – so I walked.

When I got my first job, a hundred miles from home, I owned a little English car, but there was no place to park it, and I couldn’t afford to bring it along – so I walked and walked, to get to know my new city. One evening, I walked a young lady a couple of miles home from a restaurant, on a coldly bitter February night. I left at -18 F, and returned an hour later to -23 F. By the time I walked back, I had frozen both my ears solid.

Even 20 years ago, when we visited Charleston, SC, the wife and I walked all over the Old Town, one day, ending by walking from the aquarium, all the way down to Battery Park – about 2 miles – and back, to the car.

After I had worked at the bank for several months, the head teller asked me what I did in the evenings. With no communal rec. room or TV, I stayed in my room. I listened to radio, read, hand-wrote 2 or 3 several-page letters each week, and assembled car models.

That would not do. I should get out and socialize. She had two children under five, and had hired a nanny/housekeeper, so that she could work at the bank. The girl was about my age, and had come from Newfoundland to Ontario for a job. I was given an address, and a time next evening, to present myself.

newfoundland-map

The walk to or from work, was about a mile and a half. After walking home for supper, I cleaned up and set off. From my domicile, to her house, was a bit over a mile, but as I got near, I realized that there was a slight problem. The street I was on stopped, and continued, further on. The cross-street stretched a long block in both directions, turned in the right direction, for the width of two house-lots, and ran back together, forming a large horizontal O. I could see her house, but it was an extra two blocks…. if I walked all the way around.

The back yard of the home in front of me abutted her back yard. There was no fence at the top of the driveway, which meant no dogs. I quietly walked past the house, and across a couple of inches of snow in the yard, vaulted a four-foot chain-link fence…. and I was there. Going home later, I just reversed the process.

Later visits proved that I wasn’t alone. My double set of tracks in the snow were soon joined by several others. Either this was already a well-known shortcut, or I had started something. I never got stopped or yelled at.

On my first visit, I was met at the side door. I was not taken up to the main floor. I don’t know what her living room, her husband, or her kids looked like. She led me downstairs, introduced me to the au-pair…. and disappeared. On later visits, I just let myself in.

The basement was completely finished. There was a comfortable den, with stereo and cable television, the nanny’s bedroom, a breakfast nook, and probably a laundry room where she spent considerable time and labor.

Used to high school girls who weren’t giving away much, if at all, I wasn’t too insistent with my expectations – a little slap and tickle, a little grope and grab. Mostly, we just cuddled, watched TV, talked, and got to know each other. With each visit though, the petting sessions were growing a bit more intense. She was a lusty lass.

Finally one evening, she reached over, grabbed a big handful of my crotch, and said, “Oh, you’re horny.” Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how OCD I was about English usage. I knew from the vernacular, that ‘horny’ meant sexually aroused. I later found that it actually means ‘horn-like, hard.’ It’s mostly a male thing, although engorged nipples and labia must surely count.

I was usually horny when I was with her, but she said it almost like an accusation, so I replied, “Well, you’re horny too!” “What’s that?? What did you say?” I wasn’t about to debate definitions with a Grade 8 Newfy girl. I shut up, and wouldn’t answer her.

In an attempt to recapture the mood, she said, “It’s okay. You can do whatever you want. I’m already pregnant.” Screech! Wait! What??! Apparently she wasn’t as busy and lonely as her employer thought she was. I quickly let myself out, vaulted the fence, and never came back.

About three weeks later, the teller asked me if I knew that the girl was pregnant. I admitted that she had told me, the last time I was there, but that I wasn’t responsible. I walked away from that trap.

***

Click here if you’d like to hear Marc Cohn sing that 1990 title song.

(One-)Liner Notes

Tired

I like a good long cuddle with my girlfriend after sex…….
…….It’s the quickest way to deflate her.

Apparently someone in London gets stabbed every 52 seconds….
…..poor bastard

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach….
….unless he’s a vegetarian, then you can get there through his vagina.

Why was the Pediatrician always losing his temper….
….he had little patients.

One time I forgot how to throw a boomerang….
….but then it came back to me.

What do you call a boring woman with athletes’ foot?….
….anti fun gal.

There’s a new sex position called ‘Delivery Man’….
….You stay in all day, and nobody comes.

How do Flat Earthers travel?….
….on a plane.

I have OCD, which seriously affects my sex life….
….every time a girl gets turned on, I turn them off again

This guy lost his entire left side….
….doctors say he’s alright now

I once got a hand-job from Albert Einstein….
….it was a stroke of genius

Vladimir Putin’s approval rating is 80%….
….the other 20% is missing

There are 10 different kinds of people in the world….
….those who understand binary humor, and those who don’t

How do you stay clean in space?….
….take a meteor shower

Of all my friends….
….I am the most competitive

My wife is always stealing my T-shirts and sweaters….
….but if I take one of her dresses, “We need to talk”

What’s positive about rape?….
….HIV

How did the captain survive the sinking of his ship?….
….He kept a log in his cabin.

What so you call a man with a shovel in his hand?….
….Doug

He digs, she digs, it digs, we dig, you dig, they dig….
….It may not be a beautiful poem, but it’s very deep.

Flash Fiction #148

Lance Armstrong

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

SHOW ME THE BENJAMINS

You’re going to do WHAT??!  Ride in the Tour de France?  Are you crazy?  You get winded reading an exciting novel.  Who do you think you are, Lance Armstrong?  You don’t have the legs for it.

No, what I do have is a new kind of bicycle invented by my nephew.  He says that it passes all current regulations, but will make urban cycling so easy that Grandma could do it.  They’ll change the regs for next year, but even if I just finish the race, both the bike and I will be famous, and his sales will take off.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.