Monday, March 07, 2005

A Biological Imperative

Latigo Flint recently had an astounding realization and its coital implications are staggering.

For like a million years, humans have been having sex with each other in front of fires (first camp, then hearth). We've only spent a generation or two not.

And so thus, at long last a real breakthrough in Latigo Flint's attempt to woo the cute Starbucks barrista. All Latigo Flint needs to do is get her beside him in front of a campfire. She will certainly have sex with Latigo Flint then - she will feel it as a biological imperative.

Friday night I built a cozy blaze next to the dumpster behind the Starbucks. It didn't go quite as well as I'd hoped.

"Of course, how naive of me." I called after her as she stomped away. "You must feel safe, relaxed and well-fed in addition to warm."

"I'm calling the cops you #&*%ing pervert!" Was her not exactly gentle reply.

Saturday night I built a small campfire in the concrete planter alongside her parking spot, and by folding my lanky yet wiry gunslinger legs underneath me in an awkward crouch I was able to perch precariously in the planter with it. As she approached, I raised two skewers of flame-roasted pigeon in greeting.

She soon returned with several male co-workers. I went to pistol whip them but the motion of my quickdraw overturned the planter. My temple struck a steel trailer hitch - then the planter landed on my knee. The male co-workers were significantly less than sympathetic. I may have been pistol whipped with my own pistols at that point... Actually I don't want to talk about Saturday night anymore.

Sunday was her day off, and that was probably for the best as I seemed to lack the strength to do much more than blow spit bubbles and groan.

I spent most of today in deep, squinty-eyed contemplation. I'm close, I know I am. But I'm running out of places to construct my fire. I haven't ruled out smuggling a quilt and a Dura-log into the Starbucks woman's restroom. There's also an alcove behind the rack of Pat Benatar's Favorite Songs CDs that might just barely accommodate two bodies and a tiny fire.


At 11:41 PM, Blogger Wulfenjarl said...

Maybe the next time you order your favorite beverage you can bring a propane stove and some beef jerky up to the counter.

At 12:36 AM, Blogger Lightning Bug's Butt said...

Sorry to hear your seduction production didn't go as planned.

Did you see that movie "Quest for Fire." Try taking her like that one guy did.

At 4:39 AM, Blogger Mister Jinxy said...

I love this site. Shit just keeps getting funnier.

She probably thought you were that creepy thing living in the alley from "Mullholland Drive".

I'll get you some ice for your head.

At 4:54 AM, Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

In the future I recommend a smaller scale test run. Something like... going up to the counter, lighting a lighter, holding it aloft, and singing some soulless Eagles song. Just to see.

At 10:16 AM, Blogger Blog ho said...

I also love this site. I laugh and laugh and I don't laugh easily because i'm 90% asshole.

At 10:20 AM, Blogger darthmoridin said...

I think you should hire Al Swearengen to kidnap her and then rescue her back from his diabolical clutches before he can force her to become one of his Deadwood working girls. Then you would be her hero and she would be there every night to warm your bedroll.

At 11:39 AM, Blogger Rasmus said...

A few good suggestions here, mainly Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm and DarthMoridin, but no one has suggested the obvious.

You could light yourself on fire and go up to the counter to order your usual cup.
She nwould naturally be relaxed, everyone is when you're there because we know you're a hero and you can slap leather faster than anything known to man, and there would be a fire.
I think it's a foolproof plan.

At 5:01 PM, Blogger Teaspoon said...

you're getting way too complicated here everybody. Just pull out your trusty Zippo and light it up right there on the counter. Then use your six shooters to shoot out all the other lights in the joint and then she'll have no choice than to huddle close to you for light and warmth.

At 8:29 PM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

My heart is full to bursting. Thank you for your compassionate advice and notes.

Wulf, there is but one Starbucks in the Southland with a metal detector installed just inside the door. Starbucks Corporate has nicknamed it the "LF Contingency". So the propane stove is out.

LBB, I only watch movies staring Clint (and occasionally Rob Schneider). Is what you describe anything like what Clint did to Callie Travers in High Plains Drifter?

Thank you Jinxy. Fawn skin is the nicest ice pack material.

Of course Bottle Rocket, you are sage indeed. (She's too young to remember The Eagles but I'm guessing Rancid might be deeply nostalgic for her.)

Are you trying to seduce me kind Ho? (I must admit it's working a bit.)

Hey! Have you been reading my dream-journal D. Mor?!

I went through my "setting myself on fire for girls" phase back in the late nineties Rasmus. Trust me, it sounds like a much better plan than it actually is.

I agree Teaspoon, when dealing with girls, simple is often better... you know, except when it isn't... there's fabled to be an algorithm that plots it. Anyway, thank you but see the above LF Contingency, once at the counter I have no way of shooting out the lights.

At 11:36 AM, Blogger darthmoridin said...

Latigo, surely you have seen Die Hard 2? Metal detectors need not separate you from your fire irons.

At 5:43 PM, Blogger Kilroy Trout said...

Latigo forget the duralog. I recommend an equal mixture of potassium permanganate and magnesium powder. Pack it together into a paper log, and add a fuse.

It's good for a bang trust me.


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