(Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields)
I’m sittin’ at the bar, eatin’ peanuts and listenin’ to Jackson as he tickles the eighty-eights, when this broad enters stage right.
This ain’t no ordinary babe. Face of an angel (with experience), hair like a halo of (slightly tarnished) gold, legs like (my old pinup) Betty Grable, and a set of ta-tas that ain’t got no parentheses.
Now, this is my kind’a filly and I’m like fallin’ off the stool in admiration, when this Bingo Bennie beats me to the punch.
I’m not sayin’ I’m on the skids, but my lost opportunity has me flashin’ the barkeep for another drink.
(Written for Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. October 25, 2013.)