Not a Unicorn
Last night I was lounging against the bar in my local alcohol establishment when I saw a pretty girl standing next to the jukebox. She was breathtaking I tell you. One look and I was breathtook. I was smitten and breathtook. It was imperative that I speak with her.
"Hello." I said. She continued to sway with the music.
"I don't think you're a unicorn."
(That certainly got her attention.)
"Excuse me, what did you say?!"
I nodded my affirmation. "You know, a unicorn..." I stopped nodding and started shaking my head. "I don't think you are one."
She blinked several times and chewed lightly on her knuckles. Her eyes traveled the room, cataloging the exits. She drew a wary breath and spoke. "O.... kay?"
I smiled, detecting the question mark in her voice; I'm very perceptive you know.
"Eons ago during the savage time of The Great Gruffening, the last thirty-six unicorns in existence permanently assumed human form. They have traveled our earth ever since, ageless and graceful, beautiful beyond description -- twenty females, sixteen males. It didn't take but ten thousand years or so before they grew tired of each other's company and parted ways. Now each wanders alone, swaying to music when they can find it."
She had no idea how to respond. (I've actually grown quite accustomed to that.) I touched her elbow and looked deep into her eyes. "You certainly are beautiful enough to be one, and I did see you swaying to music, but for some reason I'm pretty sure you aren't."
"Pretty sure?" She asked, her voice husky, a near whisper. "Pretty sure." I replied. She smiled shyly. "Well, how does one ever know for certain?" I nodded and cleared my throat. "Very good question. You tear out the heart and hold it near a black light. Under a black light, a unicorn's heart blood swirls violet and white. You will also know by the rich scent of lavender and primrose, tender first kisses on a honeysuckle morning."
The girl lowered her pretty eyes and had a contemplative moment. She wet her lips and seemed to reach a decision. "Get the hell away from me!"
I was disappointed with her decision and tried to appeal it--arms wide, head tilted at an endearing angle. "Pretty girl..."
"NOW!!!"
I could sense this slipping away from me on so many levels. "Wait! I just remembered another way to tell: During climax they have a tendency to whinny slightly."
And that's when she lit her drink on fire and threw it at me.
I don't like liquid fire. It goes places, touches parts ordinary fire can't. Liquid fire can ruin nights.
posted by Latigo Flint @ 7:54 PM
13 comments
13 Comments:
*swoons*
Wow. I can almost see John Madden with his telestrator pointing out the exact moment when your whole scene went awry.
"An' 'en, boom! Right there, Flint mentions the ripping out of the unicorn heart and examining it under a black light...you can tell right there he made a mistake, you know, the kind of mistake that loses the ballgame for ya. 'Cause you just can't make mistakes and win ballgames."
Some people just have no sense of romance.
That's all I gotta say.
(Did you tell her that if you hold a unicorn pelt up to the sunlight you can see the ocean?)
Not only are you the quickest quickdraw, but you may also be the new champion (of the world, forever). Chestocrates raises his fist in respect.
I have a Hunter Ceiling Fan site/blog. It pretty much covers Hunter Ceiling Fan related stuff.
Come and check it out if you get time.
You have such a graceful way of approaching women. Nobody else is in your league.
(Too bad about your nuts.)
Ah, Latigo, if only you weren't a rock-solid example of integrity and had instead been working on those lying lessons. Then you could have told her, "It's something around the eyes, an aching look of lostness and sadness. You have not that ancient and mournful tightness around the eyes," instead of the heart stuff.
Then, when she asked for the final test, you could have mentioned the climax thing. Doubtless she would have smiled slyly and said something about how important certainty is.
To please the senoritas, my friend, you must learn to lie better. You want them on fire for you, not you on fire for them. (Is the salve helping any?)
I believe that you are a unicorn, Latigo.
In the future, you might wish to lay your head in the pretty lady's lap and suggest you are the unicorn and that she must be a virgin. Chicks dig that.
Too bad it wasn't me there swaying to that music.
You'd have a hard time escaping from my siren song if it was.
Of course, Paula really is a unicorn.
Oh Latigo, you musn't begin your advances on a lady with what she isn't. You have to start with what she IS.
I don't know why you didn't just mention you do dishes. A quickdraw who does the dishes is a hot chick-magnet, no doubt about it.
I know MJ, lavender and primrose will do that from time to time.
Howdy Ghost Dog. I once used an axe handle to violate a life-sized cutout of John Madden in an Ace Hardware Store. But that was a long time ago. (Draft Randle El to your FF team. With Plax gone he's about to have a monster year... I've seen it in a vision.)
That Wulf, is too horrible, even for me. You've crossed the line and I'm aghast now. You've aghasted me. (Unicorn pelts indeed!!!)
I accept your raised fist Chest, and give you a somber man-nod in return. Thank you.
Ho, I have already purchased twelve of those Hunter ceiling fans. You're a day and a post too late.
Nobody else is... or would ever want to be, Old Hoss. (But I thank you all the same.)
Upon my word Slarrow, this is gold. You keep giving me gold: "You want them on fire for you, not you on fire for them." I must take better notes. (The salve is working... tolerably.)
And Cindy-Lou--under the circumstances, that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.
That settles it Amandarama, I'm hiring you to be my dating coach. (Wait, I've seen this in a movie... we're going to fall in love and then your husband is going to kill me with a belt of live grenades.) Nevermind, you're not hired.
Thank you TY. People who link me become my favorite people ever. Someday I'm going to figure out how to repay.
It's true--siren songs have always given me trouble Paula.
I know she is Trevor... and I've started to suspect you as well.
See now, this is very good information to have Faceless. I'm tattooing that upside-down on my stomach, Memento style, even as I type.
Because I wasn't thinking Katiedid. I never think. (Stupid, stupid, stupid.) I fell and I learned. I'll fall again and learn some more.
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