Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Summer Scenery
Earlier this evening I was forced to make a trip to the local grocery store. Well, grocery store is perhaps a misnomer. This establishment is actually one of those shopping monstrosities that actually combines the traditional grocery store with a clothing store, drug store, toy store, electronic store, and almost any other kind of store that you can think of, all enclosed in a building that is only slightly smaller in square footage than the city of Houston. It is called something like Hugeway. I was there to pick up some tomatoes and some milk, which, perhaps not coincidentally, are at complete opposite ends of the store. Even though I transported myself to and from the store via automobile, I believe that the little trip allowed me to get my daily exercise in the form of a two mile walk.
In any event, as I was walking into the store, I noticed a young lady walking out of it. She was a pretty girl, perhaps in her early twenties, age-wise. What made her noteworthy was her manner of dress. It was quite a warm day, and she was certainly dressed for the weather. She was attired in teenie, tiny shorts, one of those tight t-shirts what shows off one’s belly button, sun glasses, and three-inch high-heeled shoes.
My very first thought when I noticed this particular person was: This lady needs a good spanking.
I’m not sure what prompted this to enter my imaginary brain. Well, that is a lie. I am a spanko, after all. I shall rephrase. I’m not sure what prompted my to think that this particular girl needed a spanking. I’m not sure if it was her blatantly-sexy attire, her (probably fake) tan, or her pert little posterior. Despite the fact that I have never seen this woman before, and did not speak to her or even catch her eye, I am assuming that she is sassy, arrogant, and self-centered. Just the right type of person who could use a dose of the hairbrush or paddle on her bare butt to bring her down to size.
Or maybe it was the fact that she looked really good, nay, she looked fantastic, in her little summer outfit, whilst I am a balding, dumpy, graying, middle-aged man.
Whatever the reasoning, the one sure thing is that I shall never be spanking this woman. Darn. I shall have to make due with my lovely, balding, dumpy, graying, middle-aged wife. Okay, she’s not balding. And if I ever tell her that she is dumpy, graying, or even middle-aged, I shall be the one receiving correction in the form of a serious bun-warming.
Hmmm. I might be on to something there. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find my darling Angela.
In any event, as I was walking into the store, I noticed a young lady walking out of it. She was a pretty girl, perhaps in her early twenties, age-wise. What made her noteworthy was her manner of dress. It was quite a warm day, and she was certainly dressed for the weather. She was attired in teenie, tiny shorts, one of those tight t-shirts what shows off one’s belly button, sun glasses, and three-inch high-heeled shoes.My very first thought when I noticed this particular person was: This lady needs a good spanking.
I’m not sure what prompted this to enter my imaginary brain. Well, that is a lie. I am a spanko, after all. I shall rephrase. I’m not sure what prompted my to think that this particular girl needed a spanking. I’m not sure if it was her blatantly-sexy attire, her (probably fake) tan, or her pert little posterior. Despite the fact that I have never seen this woman before, and did not speak to her or even catch her eye, I am assuming that she is sassy, arrogant, and self-centered. Just the right type of person who could use a dose of the hairbrush or paddle on her bare butt to bring her down to size.
Or maybe it was the fact that she looked really good, nay, she looked fantastic, in her little summer outfit, whilst I am a balding, dumpy, graying, middle-aged man.
Whatever the reasoning, the one sure thing is that I shall never be spanking this woman. Darn. I shall have to make due with my lovely, balding, dumpy, graying, middle-aged wife. Okay, she’s not balding. And if I ever tell her that she is dumpy, graying, or even middle-aged, I shall be the one receiving correction in the form of a serious bun-warming.
Hmmm. I might be on to something there. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find my darling Angela.
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