Thursday, May 9, 2013


A:  Zi you look distracted. (Noticing he didn't snap up the last organic jelly donut, which was totally unlike him.)
Z:  What?
A:  Distracted.  (Taking the donut for herself and grinning at her coup)
Z:  Who's distracted?
A:  You!
Z:  Oh... I think I may be distracted.
A:  That's what I said.  (Her tone would have been exacerbated but came out muffled from licking her fingers)
Z:  Said?  When?
A:  Never mind.  (She provided that world-class-eye-roll she was famous for)
Z:  What?
A:  So what are you thinking about?  (She brilliantly {in her own mind} diverted his thoughts) Well... talk!
Z:  You will think me strange if I divulge.  (Glanced at the empty donut box, frowning... he counted with his fingers, knowing she took more... wanted to point it out... but that would open up the dialog of... are you calling me fat!)
A:  Your point?  (Her eyes demanding he pay attention.  Donuts gone.  None left.  No longer a consideration.  Besides the Yorkie was eating the fallen evidence scattered on the floor beneath her chair)
Z:  Let me put this in context.  Eons ago.  When I was younger, and was driven by powerful high-T forces,  I once dated a gal who's capris had a zipper on the side of her pants, along her hip.  Why?
A:  (Tilts head, curls up one side of her lip with that huh-look  scrambling her expression)  Where are you going with this? 
Z:  I know, this subject is-was weird.  But...
A:  Weird is not new for you... continue.  (Settling in for the long haul of exhortation.  Yorkie on her lap licking this and that... giving a side-eye read to the deli delivery menu contemplating a salad and hot wings)
Z:  Get this.  For ever I knew the purpose of a zipper.  Did!  It was to make available my junk.  All I could think about was that her woman business was located there. Right... wouldn't you?  (Big-eyed with a foolish smirk)
A:  Woman business... what are you doing... channeling a Baptist?  (Again the puzzled look appeared, along with a thought to find the nearest psychologist, just not knowing if it would be for her or Zi or the Yorkie who seemed to be in a frenzy of sniffing... {sniffing what... never mind!})
Z:  Haa!  Zipper on the hip and I figured it was for the traditional reasons... covering the putang.  (He flung his hands out as if ready to add the word eureka!)
A:  What 50s novel have you been reading?
Z:  Follow me.  This mal-located zipper idea morphed into the obvious question, was she deformed?  You can see my angst! 
A:  Really?  (Her jaw actually dropped open... though it could have been from the fact that the new deli menu had raised its prices)
Z:  I know you'll believe me.  That otherwise located ju-ju kinda turned me on.  The  idea of side pu$$y was very cool.  (He winked which kinda made Ang feel a bit hinky)
A:  Gross.  (She stuck out her huge tongue... what was both a statement of dismay and a depiction of actual grossness)
Z:  As you would suspect, I was curious... oh yeah... fox-chase-the-crippled-chickens curious.  
A:  That simile will never catch on.  
Z:  I like my allegory.  (His chin nudged upward in a defensive way) But let me share my dismay.  How was I going to get into these oddly-zipped pants?
A:  Why?  (She said knowing she should let it go as being implied)
Z:  Dah... to do the dirty, Silly!  I knew I had to... needed to... wanted to... gaa, oh so much.  Hip twat!  But how?
A:  Watch the T-word language.  (Her remark wasn't so much about the word as to the disturbing image he created.  Deformed gal-parts... eewwww... and she knew he may be providing greater detail about his quest for side-tail)  I agree great question... so how?
Z:  Thank you for noticing my astute reasoning and validating my dilemma.  A dude had to do dude stuff... and young dudes did it without the benefit of wisdom and delicacy.  (He stroked his beard, the way a sage might)  Ang, this would not be a simple case of the same old, same old garment displacement exercise.  Naaa!  See, she was of the zipped differently clan and I needed a new and creative tact.  Were there books on the subject?  Suspect not.  So I had to use my imagination, charm and wit.
A: So you were unarmed?
Z:  Ha...haa... haaa!  
A:  So? 
Z:  I could have been direct and asked, "Might I unzip you?" Of course I'd smile that valet-helping-their-boss smile.  She could subsequently reply, "Why?"  And that would be the tripping point.  Foiled.  Pants still in place.  Uck!  The tripping point!
A:  That?  (She really thought the tripping point began the moment he first considered the side zipper a point of serious discourse)
Z:  I could answer, "I want to see your weirdly placed cheechee."  Noooo!  Foolish tact on my part.
A:  You'd think?
Z:  I get it she'd feel uncomfortable and that would never work if hip display was desired.
A:  Where are we going?  The point!  The point!
Z:  I could have craze-beast-upped and just took them (the pants)... but hell, sexual harassment charges, lawyers and restraining orders seemed such a turn-off.  
A:  You are kidding me?  (Her high-pitched tone caused the Yorkie to flee.  Zi appeared unaffected)
Z:  Nope.  I was young.  I was intellectualizing.  I was... (He paused, garnered a thoughtful expression, bounced his fingers off each other ) horny.  And I wanted me some placed katten.  ( He adjusted without realizing he was, that which men have been adjusting since the beginning of all time)
A:  Moving on.
Z:  Get this... I thought about accidently setting her pants on fire... yes, I did... I know... I know... and that is not a metaphor for turning her on... but better judgment wisely dissuaded me.  
A:  Color me pleased that I did not know the young you.
Z:  That was so funny I forgot to laugh.  So how was I going to de-pants her?  Ah-ha....splash a drink on her... be a gentleman and help her out of them... naaaa.  
A:  Really, Slick?
Z:  I get it.  I was being boorish.  I needed that smooth chatter that could make them spontaneously fall to her ankles... something like, "Hey, babe need an ashtray... why... you are smoking!"  I needed that kind of fancy patter but it evaded me.  It woulda worked.
A:  No it wouldn't.  (She shook her head emphatically... a flower barrette flew free and landed in the Wandering Jew pot.  She did not notice.)
Z:  Well, to make a long story short.
A:  Thank goodness.
Z:  Wise arse.  I never got into those pants.
A: Surprise... surprise!
Z:  I was so obsessed that I spent far too much time staring at that side-zipper and I suspect I made her feel creeped out.  Thinking back about it, now... I did creep her out.  But you can understand... side-hoohaa.  By the way do you have pants that zip on the side... as a point of information I do not.
A:  Where are you going with this Slick!
Z:  To get more donuts.  They were left over from two weeks ago and tasted funny.


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