When I saw this week’s photo prompt two things immediately popped into my mind—dogs marking their territory on a fire hydrant, and the album “Street Corner Talkin” by Savoy Brown.
I decided to run the first idea past our black lab, Buster. He put his paws over his face and growled something about pet-profiling then threatened to report me to AARP (American Association of Retired Pets).
After seeing what happened to Paula Deen, and in fear of being banned from Pet Smart for life, I decided to go with the 2nd option. Still, with any luck, today’s offering is bound to offend someone somewhere.
If you are new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Engineer in charge of booking studio time, and a Top Ten literary artist on everyone’s chart, is the “Belton Belle” Ramona Jo Wisoff-Fields. To learn how to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF “Hollywood Squares” author seating chart click here.
“Beat it!” he shouted.
The girl looked left and right. They were alone on the sidewalk. “Are you talking to me?” she asked in disbelief.
“Bingo, sister. You may be dumb, but at least you’re not deaf. Now, move along. This is MY corner.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid with me. If you want to work the street in this town find another corner. This one’s taken.”
“Oh, I see, Mr. Snooty. And what makes this corner so special?”
“See the sign above that shop.”
“The Blue Hair Salon, so . . . .”
“This is where cougars come to play.”
BTW – I’m always open to constructive criticism. If you’ve got suggestions how I can improve my writing I’d love to hear ’em.
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This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
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This sure is a cranky old dude. Why does he want the whole sidewalk to be clear?
He’s a male prostitute counting on elderly female clients from the Blue Hair Salon.
Dear Mr. Snooty,
You’ve a glaring typo in your BTW at the end. “I’ve you’ve…” Perhaps you mean “if”.
I confess. As soon as I see your link I have to swing by to find out who I am. Again you made me shake my head and laugh. Where cougars come to play. What a hoot!
Ramona, the Belle of Belton.
Thank you, Belle. I wish I could say my brain works faster than my two left thumbs, but that’s not the case. I shall repair the sentence.
I had a laugh out loud moment when I finished reading. 🙂 He must stay pretty busy, as those blue haired ladies must feel pretty spry after getting their hair done.
Yes, I believe “frisky” is the term they like to use.
Well, I’m glad you didn’t give your dog cause for a lawsuit, gotta watch that profiling stuff! The piece was brilliant, it took me in a direction I didn’t expect lol. Young upstart needs to find her own corner! Thank you, this was fun.
It is wise to trust the sensibilities of a lab. Mr. Snooty must be something! Or thinks he is.
The poor boy is just trying to make a living.
Amusing. I thought Cougars were should be blue rinsers who still swaggered the peroxide! 😉 A funny dialogue.
swagger the peroxide–now, that’s funny!
Sounds like the cougars are generous with their handouts for the guy to defend his street corner like this. After reading your intro, I wonder what story would’ve come up about a dog and that bold red hydrant?
Once again you’ve made me laugh and given me an idea about how to make ends meet, so to speak, in my Golden Years. (Didn’t David Bowie write a song titled Golden Years?) I love your intros as much as your stories. You made the right choice.
I’m afraid you and I may be past our prime as cougar bait and closer to the dirty old man phase of those Golden Years.
Your opening line said so much, Russell — it simply reeked belligerence. Funnily, I’m not sure about these two. They may end up buying a house by the sea together 😉
Once again, your choice of names for our fearless leader boggles the mind. Where do you come up with them each week? I doffs me cap to you.
To be honest, Lyn, it takes longer to come up with a name for the “Belton Belle” each week than it does to write the story and intro. But it’s also a lot of fun. 🙂
I never thought you were going to write about what you and I do in our spare time! And, boy, and I pooped! You?
It’s not easy being a Boy Toy, is it Perry? I’m exhausted just thinking about it.
Russell, I’m doing my best to give constructive criticism this week and you’ve ruined my plans. How DARE you hit it out of the park? How very DARE you?
Loved it, every word. You had me laughing from the word go.
Thanks, Jen. You’re too kind to this old blue hair.
Great dialogue – and always a loud chuckle from me when I visit your page – thanks again!
Now that I look at the photo again, the guy in the green shirt appears to be walking an invisible dog – maybe trying to get at the hydrant so to speak? I didn’t think about that until I read about the one that got away – er, the story you passed on.
Anyway, thanks for the laugh.
Be careful what you write. Buster sometimes reads the comments and he’s serious about this pet-profiling thing. You could wind up like Paula Deen.
Buster has the power to give me diabetes? He must have some pretty powerful connections. Oh wait, you were talking about the other thing. Yeah, I dont want that. But I supposed I would need some corporate sponsors in the first place for that to be much of a threat, but alas I have none. Thanks for pointing that out, Buster.
“Where the cougars come to play…” A romantic, I see! Nicely done =)
thanks, Troy. I think our young man sees it as more of a business transaction. He’s looking for a little extra income to help with those student loans.
Your story reminded me of something my dad used to do. When he would have a panhandler come up to him and ask for money, he’d tell them, “Hey buddy, I’m working this side of the street.” This is not a joke. My dad actually did this. It pissed off some of the bums, but he thought it was pretty funny. ron
Hmm, I will try to stay away from that particular salon. My guess is they wouldn’t be interested in me…too old.
Ha.. a street fight coming up? love the dialgoue
I’m with Lyn–I think the two of them were made for each other (entrepreneurial spirit, location savvy, market identification). We’ll be reading about their joint enterprise in the business section of the Wall Street one of these days.
Okay, I gotta be honest, I didn’t think of a male senior citizen prostitute until I read the comments. Does that make me an ageist or a sexist?
The beefcake is young and tender. He’s looking to hook-up with a rich gal old enough to be his grandma.
Always original, Russell. Thanks for the laugh!
He should do a good business. Men die earlier than women and from what I hear, those older women are often on the prowl for a good man. Whether or not he qualifies, I won’t speculate.
Wondered why the young guy was hanging around…
He should be careful, I hear cougars can have sharp claws, as well as blue rinses and, oh well I’ll just leave it there…
Great read and great humour, as usual
sometimes i wonder what’d happen when i grow old… if i have a tendency to turn into a cougar. rawr. thanks for the chuckle ^^
p.s. i love the name ramona
Somehow I missed this one last week. I like the crotchety voice you’ve given the guy.