Hairy Roadtrip
Copyright© 2017 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 23
What happens ... every time ... when a nubile young attractive girl slides into bed with a man? Yeah ... and don’t try and tell me you didn’t ... I know better ... unless you’re 75 and nearly blind.
But ... there are a few words that can make the obvious indication shrink, like... “If that thing touches me ... I have a sharp knife ... and I’m not afraid to use it.” Or... “I thought they were bigger.” Or... “Isn’t that supposed to get hard? It is?” and then giggles ... or belly laughs.
All she said was, “I need my sleep and my bed doesn’t smell right.” She rolled over ... taking the covers ... and my pillow.
I thought about it for a millisecond, climbed out and headed for my tipi. Thanks to the flic of my Bic ... I had sufficient heat. I watched the flames dance on the side of the lodge for a second and the owl landed on a pole and said “Who?”
“Good Morning.”
“Who?”
I added a few sticks to the coals, snuggled under the buffalo and watched the sun come up.
It was quiet. The black night sky turned Navy, purple, magenta, red, orange, yellow and the sliver of sun chased away the sliver of moon and the birds started that warning racket.
“This is mine ... stay away.”
“Don’t come any closer.”
“You’re in my personal space ... get out ... get out ... get out.”
The pole bent and snapped straight ... the owl was gone.