“The Tiger in the Pantry” will have to wait. It was supposed to be a very short story for my girls, like the kind that gets turned into a board book with shit artwork and two sentences on all 10 pages. But it’s kinda getting bloated and some new characters wandered in with their own damn plot. The tiger, who used to be stuffed, is now real and talks. I think he had a conversation with the dragon last night, but the booze has clouded my memory. I’ll ask him later. Anyway, the barbarians are just making mess of the whole thing, and once they’re gone I think I can cut it down to 50 or 60 pages. So don’t hold your breath.
Tonight’s topic is “love affairs”. Not the kind that end in divorce and child support and severed, um, well……but rather the kind that no one notices. (And they’re not about sex, so pull your head out of the treatment plant.) Like that girl doing her best ever balance beam performance on the barricade between the bridge and I-83 last night. She and I could have been something. Except that I kept driving. And I kinda have a wife and kids. Plus, I forgot about her by the time I got home. For about 20 seconds, though, she was it.
There’s that girl I used to chat with online. No, we didn’t do “that”.
Nikkala Stott. (The title of this post is a joke, but don’t tell her about Nikkala. Like, for real.)
Meg Ryan. Before the plastic surgery. And 20 years ago. But she’s still chipmunk cute.
And my latest infatuation. Christie knows. And she’s cool with it. I think it has something to do with the fact that she’s younger, hipper, more athletic, smarter and more employable than me. Plus she’s a few (thousand) miles north. But seriously, if she lived next door I still wouldn’t have a chance in hell. So I’ll just keep reading and having my 20 second delusions from time to time.
Robert Fulghum wrote about this in one of his books and did a much better job explaining it. So go read that already.
But the best part of this is that right now I gotta go tuck the girls in to bed. Just a few (thousand) miles south.