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MalReynolds 06-13-2005 11:27 PM

Captain Jack and the Ladies
 
I was tickled writing the first part of this.

--

I wasn’t raised in a convent, and I don’t happen to know any nuns, (although I hear they are just filled with bad habits. Get it?) but for some reason, my interaction with the opposite of sex is somewhat awkward. Now, this would be normal for anyone under, say, the age of fifteen, but I’m twenty-two. The best time I’ve ever had with a girl was at church bingo, and that ended terribly.
To say that when I tried to kiss her I missed wouldn’t be doing it justice, because I did hit near the mark. This girl was clearly thrilled to the gills to be with me, good ol’ Action Jack. I walked her to the door, which was up a considerable flight of stairs numbering in the upper teens. Stone steps. Slate, I think. The craftsmanship on the slate stairs was the best part of the evening.
Her door was made out of some kind of wood, probably thicker than I am, but no by much. It looked oak-ish, but I never really got my door identifying badge from the scouts. Mainly because I was never in the scouts. And I don’t really think they have a badge for identifying the type of wood doors are made of. Maybe they have that in firefighter school, cause axe-heads wear down.
There were also lamps illuminating the stained red deck. Being night, moths were out. And being creatures of the night, these moths were flittering around these lamps, trying to find north with these false moons.
I was wearing some kind of cologne. I didn’t buy it, cause I was never really the type to buy cologne. I bought magazines, and they usually had cologne fold out pages. You can tell if I’ve read a magazine because the perfume ads are only half a page. I have a wallet full of smell strips. The wallet smells very nice. Probably nicer than me, but girls don’t tend to date my wallet so we’re at an impasse.
Well, then again, girls don’t tend to date me either.
Where was I? Why did I even ask that. I’m typing this. I can find where I was.
Okay, I just scanned a few lines up, and boy do I need to get my thoughts down in a more cohesive manner. And now I’ve lost track of where I was again.
The moths, and the girl. The girl was wearing a white dress I guess to impress the people at church? Wearing a white dress is a red flag for chastity, although from what I hear later she shouldn’t have been wearing white. Any shade of white.
The moths were particularly attracted to her dress, as well. She must have been used to this, because they were landing on her, and she wasn’t freaking out. I wanted to get the hell off of this porch as soon as I could because things that are a hundred times smaller than me and have a functioning brain freak me out. It’s one of my tics.
One of my many tics.
I was batting at the moths on me, and some on her. After a while, I stopped because the casual observer probably thought I was trying to cop a feel. Who’s saying I wasn’t? But I wasn’t. My mind doesn’t think that fast.
So, I bring up the line that has worked so well so many times for so many people that aren’t me.
“It’s getting late, I think I’m going to head off.”
She leans in, smiling, and I prepare for the famous Jack smoocharoo. It’s probably like a normal kiss, but I just named it something way gayer.
I lean in, with my eyes open. That’s when I notice something…
Her teeth are white.
Moth’s. Oh spitballs, this won’t end well. She’s either going to crush that moth with her lips, or I’m going to end up kissing something that I fear more than IRS workers.
My first natural response was to make an uncomfortable noise.
“Errrr….”
She continued to lean in.
I began to panic. Then I remembered the church bulletin I had in my hand! That’d work well. I rolled it up, and smashed the moth.
Oh, right, the moth was on the teeth of a girl.
From the casual observer stand point, it would look like I just hit a perfectly nice girl, who is standing on a nice front porch with slate stairs (in a white dress!) hard in the teeth with a rolled up newspaper bulletin.
Right… That’s because I did.
Captain Jack went home that night without a famous Jack smoocharoo. The only thing I had to console me was the bruise around my eye. I hope she brushed her teeth right after, cause she had moth remains all over them.
So, when I say that I’m not too good with the opposite sex, it’s an understatement. I’ve left with gunshot wounds before. The nurse at the hospital knows my name, and the only reason I haven’t asked her out yet is because she’s eighty, and she’s in a wheelchair. Not that I have anything against people that are crippled. I don’t even know why I mentioned it.
My ineptitude doesn’t stop with physical abuse, although I’m sure by this point you wish it did. I did have a run-in with a model once.
The only reason I knew who she was in the first place was because I was applying cologne from my wallet strips, and on the half page that I took (it was always necessary to take a whole half a page so I could get the name of the cologne, in case I ever went magazine shopping again) and Jumpin’ John Sprout if she wasn’t staring at me.
She wasn’t staring at me in real life, she was on the paper.
Anyways, I feel like I should now recant the tale of the run in with the lady on the magazine cologne add that I completely blew it with because I have a weaker reception beacon (antenna?) than an AM radio.

--

More later
(I promise)

Mal

xiron 06-14-2005 08:48 AM

RE: Captain Jack and the Ladies
 
That was great. Keep it coming.

Torlock 06-14-2005 11:18 AM

RE: Captain Jack and the Ladies
 
I enjoyed that a lot. Hope to read more soon.

ckj846 06-14-2005 04:08 PM

RE: Captain Jack and the Ladies
 
Great story! To be continued???
O_o


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