(Photo copyright: Sean Fallon)
When a man has a gorgeous pair of legs, he has a gee-or-geous pair of legs. And my Herbie has been well blessed.
Never mind that he has the brain and personality of Archie Bunker, the physique of a 99-pound weakling in the bodybuilding ads on the backs of old comic books, or that he has a predilection for the sauce. His pegs are out of this world.
So every morning when he arises smelling of bootlegged whiskey and day-old sweat, I have him pose in his shorts.
One look at his spectacular sticks and I fall in love all over again.
(Written for Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. November 22, 2013.)