WRITERS WRITE...WRITING PARTNERS FEUD ~ POST ST. PAT'S AND LOUNGE LIZARD LARRY



A:  (Notices Zi staring at her accidentally permanently dyed green hair...she thought the dye was a wash out type but it was more the grow-out type)  Soooo, what did you do on St. Patrick's Day?
Z:  (He kept staring at her hair, winced a little but said nothing, he knew the explanation would just twist up his brains)  Remembered what I did on St. Patrick's Day twenty years ago.
A:  Really?  (Has that amazed looked as if he were the one with the odd top coating)
Z:  I reminisced with my favorite libido... Lounge Lizard Larry I call him.  (He bounced a quarter on the table and into a cup)
A:  (She opened her snack drawer, yes did have one, a big deep one, stuffed full, and pulled out a bag of cheddar cheese popcorn and started to munch, knowing this was probably gonna be a good one)  You have more than one? 
Z:  You've seen my writing.  I have a libido posse... a crew... an army.
A:  Well, maybe not an army, not even a pit crew.  I would say more like a coffee klatch.
Z:  An army!  (He repeated with that don't ya dare contradict a maestro libido general)
A:  So tell me about what you and libido, Larry, chatted about.  So what remembrance did you walk hand-in-hand with down Melancholy Way?
Z:  (He folded his hands over his belly, puffed as if on an imaginary cigar, stared at the ceiling as if his memories were written there)  I remembered being in a crowded bar and of all things found that folks were being loose and free with the grabby-hands.  Ah, what a grand day that was.  My twig and berries felt like I was at a Doctor's Intern Convention and I was the subject they were all checking for a hernia. (He turned his head and coughed to make a point)  All the touchie and feeley and not just the gals.  The gropers were glad handing me.  Over and over and over. 
A:  Really?  I mean, really.
Z:  Yes, Miz Doubter-pants.  Really.  (Gave her the one-eyed-willie eyeball of silence woman)  Thinking this was this bar's tradition on St. Patrick's Day my Bud and I joined in on the frottery. 
A:  You dog!
Z:  (Grins with fondness of his dogger days, knowing he still had a bit of bark left, too) I was hesitant but I wanted to join the party, so, I grabbed this one gal on her ample tushie.  Nice and gentle at first but eventually I grew bolder.  I liked it.  She seemed to like it.  At least she wiggled as if she did.
A:  Really?
Z:  Don't start!
A:  (Makes the zipper motion across her lips... then unzips)  You telling me a fib?  (Rezips) 
Z:  This story is a true as William Tell's arrow.  ( He smiled)  Come closer and I can show you what I did.
A:  I'm passing on that kidney stone without pain.
Z:  So I went a little farther.  Sexplored as you might imagine.
A:  No!  (Her eyes widened amid his naughty disclosures)
Z:  Yes.  Further sexploration was, well, one big humongous mistake. 
A:  Where did you go?
Z:  Yes, it was the where that seemed to matter.  I juxtaposition-ed her short skirt.  Liked what I discovered.  Silky.  Soft.  Smooth.  In retrospect, I was the crazy man that jumped off the cliff before I knew how deep the water below was. 
A:  (The quintessential stunned face gripped Ang) 
Z:  She took offense to my interest in orifice discovery, groaned, tensed up, turned, eyes burning, balled a fist, and hit my Bud right in the mouth.
A:  Rea....  No!   You got away with it?
Z:  Sorta.
A:  And did you tell your bud?
Z:  Got him a bar rag to mop up his bloody nose. 
A:  You double-D-Dog!
Z:  What can I say... it's a man thing.
(She took the Mickey Mouse ears off of the shelf and put them over her green hair, in some small way thinking that would make the color seem acceptable)
A:  Let's write an Irishman piece honoring St. Patrick's Day.
Z:  Why aren't bike riders arrested...?
A:  Huh?
Z:  They are peddling their arse.  Isn't there laws about that?
A:  I'm lost.  Does this mean, you have an idea about an Irishman biking?
Z:  No. 
A:  You're strange, today...wait...you're strange every day.  Oh, wait, I didn't mean to say that aloud.
Z:  The teaspoon calling the knife tarnished.
(Both are silent as they thought and then Zi began to type) 
Little Boy Blue was talking with Little Girl Pink, "An Irishman walked out of a pub, stumbling back and forth with a key in his hand. 
A cop, one of All the King's horses and All the King's men Hopscotch, Turner and Hooch, and Cocktail Management Unit on the beat saw him and approached, 'Can I help you lad?'
'Aye, sssshombody stole me oxcart!' the Irishman replied. 
The patrolmon asked, 'Well now, where was your oxcart the last time you saw it?'
'It was at the end of this key.'  
About this time the cop happened to notice that the Irishman's member was being exhibited for all to see.  He (officer) then queried, 'Are you aware that you are exposing yourself, sir?'
The Irishman looked down woefully and moaned,  "Ooooh, damn...they got me girlfriend, too!'"  (BALDERDASH AND  DONA PENZA TATTLE TALES  PRESENTS:  SECOND FLORILEGIUM...THE FABLE OF SIN-SIN-CINDERELLA BALLING...BOOK TWENTY-FOUR...DANCING LOVE...BY  Angelica Hart and  Zi)
A:  Drinking... Irishman... so clich√©.
Z:   You are just as mean as the gal in the bar back twenty years ago.
A:  The difference is that I would have known it was you... and would have given you a smack.
Z:  I bet you would have wanted to kiss me.  I cut a dashing figure.
A:  Try these dashes.  (She used the strikethrough command and edited his work)


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Angelica Hart and Zi ~ Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane
www.champagnebooks.com - www.carnalpassions.com - angelicahartandzi.com








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