A gopher is eating my butterfly plants one tasty root at a time, so I get out my hammer and wait ever so patiently, earbuds blasting Rage Against the Machine for effect and motivation. While I am rocking out, evidently moving in such an unusual way that my neighbor, who thinks I can’t see him behind the dilapidated wooden fence boards, cannot take his eyes off me. Contrary to the logic of my somewhat “shy on stage” personality, I begin to gyrate to the sexual intensity of Zack de la Rocha’s energy, hyper aware of both the ironic fact that I find political rants anything but sexy, and also that my poor neighbor has been lonely so long that me undulating with a hammer is particularly cruel on so many levels.
Apparently my gopher dance has worked more than one miracle, and his destructive little head pops out just in time for me to compose myself, raise the hammer, and begin the swift and powerful descent necessary to knock him silly and save my caterpillars’ home. But my plan is flawed, as I should have known that headphones, an uncharacteristically sexy set of dance moves and sheer resolve would not be enough to help me get beyond just how cute the little guy is, and I accidentally pound a formerly healthy butterfly plant instead.
The only time he wasn’t worried about the future was when she visited. Her stopovers were so infrequent however, that he had never been able to find a pattern; some timing to count on, to look forward to, to fantasize about.
He waited, mostly empty, impatient, merely existing, barely breathing, until she appeared out of Nowhere, took his shaking hand, and made love to him without the slightest whisper. She ravaged him hungrily, fully, silently.
Rising on her haunches, sated, his skin in her teeth, blood dripping seductively from her ravaged lips, she leaped once, twice, and again to reach the next detour out of Forever and back to the place from where she had come.
He was so handsome that she nearly lost her nerve, especially when his eyes pierced hers, but the dare was too enticing; after all, she did love a rousing challenge. As she approached the long, teak wood bar, she chastised herself for such childish folly.
“Excuse me,” she started in, voice sultry and tempting, raising her arms high, breasts plump and spilling out over her corset, her cheeks faintly pink with embarrassment, “but did you happen to drop this cute little teddy bear?”
The next moment took her totally by surprise, as he swooped her up, deftly ascended two flights of stairs, hastily unlocked the mahogany door, traversed the long hallway in seconds, and threw her down on the perfectly made bed only to kiss her long, hard, and deep, his passion rising with each exhale into her expectant mouth.
By now their loyal customers were used to such escapades, having frequented Phred and Mona’s Long Bar for years, continually enthralled by the oft-shocking antics of a couple with such other-worldly devotion that they easily became fools for love in each other’s presence.