PAP FICTION

3 Aug

It was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly there was a flash in the sky. A meteor lit up the back sides of the clouds. A man could be seen lurking under an alcove. As he took a deep drag on his cigarette a fedora hat could be seen. He had pulled the brim down over his eyes. The scarlet light of a neon sign in a nearby bar exposed his lean torso bundled in a tan trench-coat with the belt pulled tight around his waist.

A thin woman exited the bar. The color of her lipstick matched the red neon light behind her. The fish-net stockings that made those wasp-thin legs interesting were almost unnerving. She stood there under the canvas awning for a few moments. Then she took a silver cigarette case from her purse and removed one. Next to be removed was a long thin cigarette holder. She plunged the cigarette into the end of the holder. A silver lighter was produced to ignite the cigarette. She stood there, her hand reversed from normal, grasping the holder between her index finger and thumb; smoking the cigarette European style.

Their eyes met and just as quickly averted; hoping their connection had not been noticed by anyone.

The two departed in opposite directions.

An aspiring author sitting in his second floor flat noted this. He reached for his note pad before the scene had been completely subjugated to the effects of the scotch he had been imbibing; neat, no ice, no water. He scratched furtively with a number two pencil. His door-bell rang. Stepping to the intercom he queried who it was.

“Me”, came a woman’s voice.

The author buzzed her in. He lit a cigarette and took a deep draw; knowing full well the task that was awaiting him. A slight knock on the door announced it even clearer.

He opened the door and let her in. Her dark black, almost deep purple, hair was soaked from the rain. Somehow her fish-net stockings had remained dry.

A second ring on the door-bell, a second buzzing in, and the man with the fedora hat joined them. The author pulled the window shade down for privacy.

The woman and the man removed their wet outer clothing.

They engaged in a bit of “Wii Bowling”, one hundred games to be exact.

 

 

After the games were over, the two visitors departed and the author was left alone to contemplate his future; which had been drastically altered by this mysterious evening.

No additional meteors were observed that night.

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