he sped by in the bus every day, since he was always looking at her. He glanced at his watch and saw it was 12:05 p.m. Twenty minutes until he took the plunge.
He purchased a single perfect yellow rose from the nice Oriental woman running the flower shop and bought a small card to go with it. He wrote a short note inside.
From someone who has adored you from afar,
and now wants to adore you a little closer.
A
* * * * *
Looking out of the flower shop, he saw her stroll up and through the front door of the restaurant. 12:15 p.m. Wow, she’s punctual. Good thing.
His heart started pounding in his chest like a jackhammer. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP.
Rose in hand, he stared out of the florist’s window and watched the waiter take her to her regular table. She reached into her purse, pulled out a book and sat back in her chair.
She wore a red skirt and a silken white blouse that was sheer enough to show she wasn’t wearing a bra. There was a cool breeze and Alfonso looked skyward, thanking the heavens for the chill in the air that made her nipples tighten and protrude through the sheer fabric.
12:20 p.m. It was time to move. Lunch was usually an hour in the city and Alfonso was afraid he’d miss his window of opportunity.
It was his time.
He adjusted the inseam of his Dockers, closed his trench coat and stepped outside the flower shop to the sidewalk. He stared at his Holy Grail. She was Guinevere, and he was Lancelot. If she could look into his pants, she would see Excalibur.
A gust of wind swept along the street and the woman’s dress crept up her thigh revealing a garter belt.
Down boy, steady, steady, calm—remain calm…
Alfonso mentally blocked out everything except her beautiful face. He was focused and determined and started walking straight for her. He was going to do it. His mind was set.
Another gust of wind blew past the restaurant. The woman’s hair flowed sideways in the breeze as if alive. Her blouse opened slightly and Alfonso saw her bosom. The glorious pale flesh of her neckline sloped to a perfect breast. The darker pink hue of one nipple was visible and Alfonso froze.
The woman glanced up and her eyes met his. She turned her head and pulled her hair back away from her face. Alfonso looked down at his wristwatch—12:25 p.m. and he knew his time to act had come.
He was going to free himself from the spell she cast over him. He stared at her lips and she began to speak to him.
“Watch out…”
The bus that plowed him over was also punctual.
All that remained in the road was a note, a yellow flower soaking in a pool of blood and his detached hand. Along with one worn-out shoe.
It was Alfonso’s time.
Caveman Love
Zag stood at the entrance to his cave with a dumb look on his face.
Actually, he always had a dumb look on his face because he was dumb. Anyway, as he surveyed the terrain he noticed Lana.
She was an extremely ugly cavewoman—even by caveman standards—but she had huge gazongas. She was so ugly her clan had her sit in front of the cave entrance to ward off dinosaurs. One look and they would flee in fear.
Zag saw her and decided that if nobody else wanted her, he did. What an idiot.
For three days, Zag stood there trying to think of a way to meet Lana.
He finally figured he’d take her to the “Caveman Bar” on the weekend, one moon or so later, and he finally approached her cave to ask her out. As he walked up the hill, he saw her standing there at the entrance pulling at her cloth stuck in her butt. He smiled at her and motioned to her to come over.