I first posted this story seven years ago.
I tweaked this and that and here it is again in it's entirety plus a bit more.
One summer day, a smallish, young man with a penchant for
singing show tunes walked along his street to a quiet, little parkette just
around the corner from his little house.The day was
bright and warm with oodles of sunshine.
He carried-
in a little pink case, his beloved pussy-cat. Her name was Miss Chinchilla.
Miss Chinchilla loved to go to the parkette with the little man. He carried
some special teats just for Miss Chinchilla in his tiny pockets along with a
bottle of fresh water. Miss Chinchilla purred with delight.
Not to be
left out, the smallish, young man had also packed a picnic lunch for himself.
He had made cheese sandwiches and placed a bunch of olives in a sealed plastic
container. The little man loved olives as much as he loved his pussy cat. He
also carried a huge jug of ice-cold lemonade. All this was safely tucked into a
big, yellow backpack he had flung over his shoulders.
As he walked
along the smallish, young man sang some of his favourite showtunes! He belted-
“Oh What a Beautiful Morning” from Oklahoma and “It's a
Privilege to Pee” from Urinetown.
Even singing one of
his favourites from Showboat- "Old Man River". He
accompanied himself on the harmonica which was a feat in itself. He played and
sang and sang and played. Even Miss Chinchilla purred along in perfect harmony!
They soon
arrived at the parkette. The smallish, young man walked to his favourite bench
beneath his favourite Maple tree and sat down with his pussy by his side. He
started to sing one of his most favourite Broadway tunes from Flower Drum Song-
“I Enjoy Being a Girl”.
As he did so
a portion of a group of righteous locals- who were sitting on blankets spread
on the ground under a huge oak tree, heard the song he was singing. This Gaggle of Locals- who didn't fit into any specific "group" profile that the small, lean, young man could recognize- including but not totally excluding any of the collection of such groups currently forming across the country.
At the very least, they could be sympathizers or followers of that Quebec right-wing politician who recently won a majority in the Quebec Provincial Election. You know, the Air Transat guy.
Right. Him.
Like the rest of Canada, who cares what happens in Quebec anyway.
Maybe the group supported the brother of the former Mayor of a literally huge centrally located- but a bit to the east, city.
So, back to our story...
A few of them
rose to their feet from the blankets and walked to where the smallish man was
seated- singing, on the bench.
They stood in
front of him and told him he was going to "someplace bad"- and HOT cried a rather plain looking, 12 year old blonde girl, for singing such a song. Then, a big,
black, quite muscular as well as a strikingly handsome man- moved forward from the group and began speaking by telling the smallish man his name was Henderson.
"Dear
Sir, did you know it is just plain wrong for a man to sing the words you are
singing? Especially a white man singing "Old Man River"!
The small, debonair man pooh-pooed this as he remembered seeing Andy Williams singing that very song many times and Andy was very, very white.
"Why, what if someone omnipresent was to come upon yawl just sitting here on this
bench singing those words?"
The smallish, young man looked at the muscular man along with the rest of the group standing in front of him- including the plain blonde girl. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a few pussy treats offering them to Miss Chinchilla. Then, he opened the backpack he had placed on the bench next to him. Unzipping the zipper, he reached inside.
He snapped open a plastic container and ate
three olives.
Then, he took out a Havarti cheese sandwich- on whole wheat, unwrapped
it, then took a big bite.
Henderson
spoke again. This time his huge, black, biceps undulated under his tight, long-sleeved white shirt:
“You are just not listening to the words we all are saying to you Brother. You will
be confined to the fires of damnation for eternal life for singing those oddly sinful
songs from the Broadway stage.”
“Oh well,”
said the smallish, young man, “Guess I`ll see you all there!”
Henderson
started to fume. His massive chest muscles heaved.
He actually seemed to blush but owing to the fact he was an oversized, chocolate-skinned man, one could never tell but being a good, decent man he said no more.
Making a
silent wish, Henderson spun on his heels and motioned with a large, black hand for the others to follow. The entire group spun on their individual heels and
returned to the remainder of the gaggle of locals who had remained seated on their
blankets beneath the huge Oak Tree.
The smallish
man took a few more bites of the cheese sandwich. Then, the
smallish, young man poured himself a glass of lemonade and sipped away, all the
while keeping an eye on the Gaggle of Locals beneath the oak tree.
Suddenly and
without warning Miss Chinchilla- his lovely pussycat, opened the door of her
little pink case, stepped out and sat on the bench next to the smallish, young
man. Miss Chinchilla pondered the situation. The smallish, young man seemed
sad. She looked up at the smallish, young man and winked a pussy eye.
Then, taking
a huge Black and Decker chainsaw out of her pink case, she scampered over to
where the locals were sitting on their blankets. She climbed a few feet up
the huge Oak Tree, started the chainsaw with a horrendous vroooom and made a
nice, clean cut right through it. The mighty tree fell, right on top of the Gaggle of Locals- even the huge, black, muscular, handsome man, sitting beneath.
The smallish,
young man and Miss Chinchilla thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the day eating
cheese sandwiches, olives and pussy treats. They drank lemonade and fresh,
bottled water.
The Gaggle of Locals never bothered the smallish, young man and his big pussy ever again.
Oh, the smallish man- after admiring Henderson's huge biceps and chest muscles, decided to join a gym and he did so the very next day.
The End.
