ROBBLOG #529

Recently, I was asked if I would return to the Terrestrial airwaves if I had the chance.

 

My answer.

It would depend.

No weekends.

Middays would be best and of course I would have to enjoy the music I am playing.

 

Hey, I am not asking for much.

It would be fun being at an FM station again but it would also take away a lot of freedom I currently enjoy both with my free time and with my own online stations Swisssh and Starlite. I would also expect that a Terrestrial company wouldn’t be too happy with me operating two stations- even though my stations are technically quite different from AM/FM stations, as well as the fact they reach a world-wide audience.

 

 

 

It would be something to think about.

Of course, I would have to have a bunch of fun too.

That goes without saying.

However, I don’t see that day arriving or me even being asked to return to FM Radio.

For one thing, I think I am past my date of expiration.

I wouldn’t get paid enough. Probably just minimum wage and I could find myself filling in for vacationing full-timers.

Been there.

Done that.

 

Again, it would be something to think about.

 

Radio Broadcasting has changed so much. Consultants and greedy managers have done that. Few stations care about the listener anymore- although they would say they still do. Consultants- for the big Broadcasting Companies tell stations what audiences want and in turn tell a station what to play and how to go about it. Sure, there are still small stations in small markets that do the job that radio started doing decades ago. Today that seems to be the domain of community stations.

We could use a community station here in Central Ontario- Orillia specifically.

The Holier-than-Thou CRTC up in Ottawa usually grants Community operations licences when everything on the application is in order- or so I’ve heard. An online operation in Huntsville was recently granted a spot on the FM dial. They hope to be on-air come the spring.

 

 

A friend of mine- Don Andrews, does a morning radio show from his home studio in Scarborough Monday through Friday mornings and it is currently picked up by two stations- no not Swisssh or Starlite. He had hoped to have a network of stations pick up his show but that hasn’t happened- yet. Don’s on air from 9 to noon (ET) and his programme on “Studio B” (Google Studio B) is very entertaining- even though he currently gears it towards an American audience since the station in California that picks his show up has a larger audience that it’s Canadian Counterpart.

Why?

I don’t know but maybe it's because Canadians lag behind both the UK and the US when it comes to listening to Online Radio stations. As well, there are thousands to choose from. Maybe that’s a problem- too much choice.

I did a survey recently. One of the questions asked if Data plan usage was a concern. The Radio Survey found that data plans are not a Canadian concern.

 

I guess I’d also like to know why and how a broadcaster such as John Tesh gets his mediocre radio show on so many stations both here in Canada and abroad. A team of writers script his breaks- which for the most part are all survey-based. It’s true, bringing in this red-blooded American to pretend he’s actually a part of a Canadian radio station is cost-effective however, Don Andrews and his Studio B would present a better radio programme and live too- not voice tracked (meaning  previously recorded), like Mr. Tesh. Don’s mid-morning show is competitively priced too meaning he won’t get rich soon- unless he has thousand stations picking up the Studio B feed. I’m sure he’d do an evening feed- if the money was right.

 

If you’re a radio person reading this, please consider Mr. Andrews and his show. It’s an eclectic mix of tunes strung together with Don’s engaging, down to earth, on-air personality.

Maybe too, one fine day Don will be able to be a Broadcaster who can speak of world-wide events instead of pandering to the Yanks who- we are told, get confused if topics are “off American” and of little concern to the day to day lives of Americans. That being said, I can tell you right now Swisssh Radio has more Americans listening that any other country in the world and I don’t change Swisssh- or Starlite to sound more American. Listeners tell me they just like the sound of a radio station providing music and entertainment to its listeners.

 

I have never had an e-mail from a listener south of the border asking for Swisssh to be more American. I’ve never had a German listener asking Swisssh to be more German either. Swisssh and Starlite are an entity onto themselves and I for one applaud them for that wholeheartedly.

 

And that Dear Readers is what it’s all about.

 

 

ROBBLOG #528

So, this dastardly winter continues.

 

Almost March and no break from the piles of snow along our street or the streets throughout Orillia. Driving is still treacherous and walking not much better. On days when one is able to venture outdoors, the wind chill relentlessly bites at your nose and cheeks.

It’s no fun.

 

This winter weather has such extremes. Biggest floods in decades in Britain. Snow in Hong Kong and Japan. Drought in California and South America.

What gives?

 

Yesterday I read it’s the warming of the Arctic causing all this cold. I don’t profess to understand it all. Apparently the Arctic is feeling the effects of global warming faster than the rest of us and consequently it’s affecting our weather driving huge and winter storms and cold temperatures our way. However, I am not blaming it all on the Arctic. Many of our storms this winter have come from Texas. Yes, the Texans shall not go blameless. They have caused some of this snow accumulation and they’ve even has had their share of snow.

Payback.

 

So, what have I been doing to pass the winter days?

I’ve been dreaming of warmer climes- even a few degrees warmer.

Recently, I have been checking out Sidney, British Columbia. A community just a bit north- 20 minutes or so, of Victoria BC on the southern tip of Vancouver Island. Actually, Victoria International Airport is right in Sidney’s back yard.

How convenient!

The small downtown is charming with a gaggle of shops and services.

The ocean with its Orcas and Dolphins is magical and weather-wise the chance of snow is very slim. Plus, it’s still Canada so we don’t have to live amongst American propaganda- if we choose not to which is a good thing no matter where you live in Canada.

 

 

So, what’s not to like about Sidney?

It’s a smallish community with a lot of retirees.

The winters are short.

There can be a lot of cloud and rain but rarely any snow. I’ll bet they keep a plow in mothballs- just in case.

 

Years ago, I remember hearing that Victoria- the capital, had only one snowplow and on the odd occasion when they had to deal with a few centimetres of the white stuff they threw off the canvas tarp, gassed it up and took it for a spin around a few downtown streets.

 

Recently, I chatted with a Bell Mobility employee about the weather when I was switching my mobile account to Rogers. Bell was doing a good job, it’s just that a corporate family plan was available from Rogers so, my husband wanted me to switch companies. Anyway, the personable young lady was very helpful at Bell. As she closed my account, I had the opportunity to ask where she was located.

She told me Victoria.

This was a day after we had received mega snow and our temperatures were less than warming.

I told her what our weather was like that particular day.

She seemed surprized.

She told me she had to scrape some frost off her car windshield one morning recently- before she drove to work.

It sounded like a bit of a hardship.

How do Victorians get through a winter like that?

My heart ached for her.

Such a hardship.

 

So, with this awful, relentless winter I have been looking at western climes as I am sure many other Eastern Canadians have been doing. I am ready to pull up stakes and leave our hard winters behind. Now, I just have to convince my Tom, who hasn’t completely warmed to the idea when I speak of it- although he looks at the photos and the real estate pages with me.

He’s still needs to be defrosted.

 

That reminds me.

I need to pick up some more de-icing salt for the walkways.

 

Happy shovelling!

ROBBLOG #527

There are some things I just don’t care about much.

 

Do you feel that way as well? I believe there just isn’t time to care about everything or everybody today- even if you try to. Here’s a list of some things I don’t care about much.

 

1. Winter and snow. In fact I don’t care at all. I have seen enough snow this year to last a lifetime. Now, can we please get back to global warming?

 

2. CBC Radio. One. Two. Three or more. I couldn’t care less but I know a lot of people do.

 

3. The Olympics. Get a life. These games do little to bring the peoples of the earth together.

 

4. Stephen Harper and anything Conservative.

 

5. Justin Bieber

 

6. Rob Ford. Isn’t there a chunk of ice in Nunavut we could put him on? If it’s a big piece of ice, thrown his brother on it too.

 

7. Rednecks.

 

8. Drivers who don’t signal their intent.

 

9. January and February. This may have been covered in point one but it bears repeating.

 

10. The 1970’s

 

11. A long drive to someplace.

 

12. Watching or listening to the news.

 

13. Gossips.

 

14. Snowbanks. Again, this may have been covered in point 1 and point 9.

 

15. Pauline what’s-her-name in Quebec. If we could squeeze her on that hunk of ice in point 6….

 

16. Roses on Valentine Day.

 

17. Famous folk who destroy their lives on drugs.

 

18. Organized religion.

 

19. Violence on Film and Television.

 

20. Lists

ROBBLOG #526

It was a Thursday afternoon, just a little past one-fifteen.

 

The day was sunny and hot.

There didn’t seem to be a breath of air anywhere- either in Heaven or down on Earth.

God liked it hot.

In fact, on this particular Thursday, he had yet to turn on a fan anywhere in the whole house, so it seemed incredibly hot to those visitors who dropped by- like the scribes who were writing God’s Memoirs or the Lepers who were in the process of being healed.

Yes, leprosy had reared its ugly head in Heaven in recent years and Heaven’s scientists were working hard towards an anti-biotic that would put an end to rotting fingers, toes and penises.

However, the scientists weren’t quite there yet, so as usual, the task to cure Heavenly inhabitants fell into the lap of God the Father Almighty- for the time being.

Still, God liked it hot, much to the chagrin of the Lepers and others.

Not as hot as “Hell-Hot” but still hot.

No, Heaven on this particular Thursday afternoon was nothing like the heat that rose up from the constantly burning fires in the pits of unholy hell but all the same, God liked it pretty warm.

 

He sat in a comfy chair by an open window that overlooked His garden, reading the afternoon edition of The Daily Heavenly News while sipping on a tall glass of pink lemonade.

Ahhh…God knew that this was the life!

 

The Holy Land- soon to be created down below on Earth, would have all that dust and camel dung but he knew he would take Heaven every time. God even liked Heaven better than his summer home on the planet Krylord. The idea of a separate planet away from Heaven would eventually be attributed to the teachings of the Mormon Church, that is, once he found a man who would dig up a few golden plates and contrive a story so believable, hundreds of people would follow the charismatic leader across a vast continent to build a church that eventually would be the subject of a smash Broadway Musical.

God was getting a little ahead of himself.

 

All God really wanted to do was please all the soon-to-be religions that would someday spread across the surface of the Earth. He decided to make the planet Krylord from wool fibre and moisture he had gathered from the catch drain in the floor of his laundry room. Not quite the Fairy Godmother’s “bibbedy-boppedy-booing” and presto there’s a coach for Cinderella- but similar. So, it came to pass that the planet Krylord- about a forty minute flight away on cloud nine, was created on a Wednesday afternoon.

 

About that same time on this incredibly hot Thursday afternoon, shepherds were shuffling their feet- along with their sheep, down the street past God’s two storey, detached, Craftsmen style-bungalow when God’s eyes suddenly fell from the Daily Guardian onto earth below. God had had a skylight installed in the garden recently, so he was able to see all the way down to Earth and into the Garden of Eden. Prior to this innovation, God had to walk down the street, past the Heavenly Tim Horton’s and peer over the edge of the cliff at the rear of the Tim Horton’s parking lot to gaze down at Earth. The skylight meant God could peer out his window anytime- day or night, keeping an eye on Adam and Eve.

 

 

As he looked down through the skylight his eyes landed upon Eve sitting all alone on a mossy-covered stump in the centre of the Garden of Eden.

She seemed perplexed.

She seemed angry.

She seemed both perplexed and angry.

God called down to Eve- “Everything alright Eve?”

Eve was startled at first.

She looked up and saw God gazing down at her. She wrapped an arm across her breasts.

“Oh hi God.”-Eve called back waving with her free arm. “What can I do for you on this delightful- yet warm, Thursday?”

“Oh nothing in particular...”- said God softly.

He paused.

“Everything Okay with you?”- God wasn’t sure if it was any of his business but since he was both the creator of Heaven and Earth He allowed his question to stand.

Eve soon answered.

“Oh …yes…well…things are fine, I guess.”

“Just fine? I would say there’s a problem?”- said God. “Am I right?”

He paused again-

“Say Eve, where’s Adam at?”

“Well, God. That’s just it. He and Steve are over at the swimming hole by the big date palm and they’re skinning dipping!”

 

 

 

God’s hands started to shake a little.

“Are you telling me Eve that Adam and Steve- not Adam and Eve have gone skinny dipping?”

 

Eve hollered back- “Yes. That and so much more God”- she shook her head- “So. Much. More.”

 

Now God was perplexed.

He had a picture of Adam and Steve in his mind’s eye. A pair of young, sun-bronzed men getting up to playful hi-jinks only two, naked, sun-bronzed young men could get up to. It was a pretty sight but certainly not the type of situation that Eve wanted to see.

 

He tried to think of the right thing to say.

You know, like words of comfort for Eve- but he had nothing.

Nada.

Blank.

Then, he had a thought. He looked down at Eve and once again spoke to her.

“Eve?”

 

“Yes God, I’m still here. Alone. Sitting on this mossy-covered stump, getting green moss stains all over my ass.”

 

God smiled and looked down upon Eve- who once again covered her exposed breast. With the most love and understanding he could muster said-

“Sorry, about that! This changes everything. Look, can I get back to you?”

 

Eve looked up at God and saying not a word, stood up from the mossy-covered stump. She did indeed have green stains all over the cheeks of her ass. God could see that all the way up in Heaven as Eve turned and ran deep into the Garden of Eden.

 

As she ran, her tits flopped back and forth, slapping and smacking against each other in the hot, sticky, humid air of  a Thursday afternoon.

 

 

ROBBLOG #525

This ROBBLOG is called- “How Come”?

 

How come Americans believe Justin Bieber is American? Not that I really care, they can have him- for good.

 

I watched a You Tube video of a US Music Awards show recently. I wonder how come Americans think that they are the only country in the world that have done the right thing and allowed gay marriage in what- 11 states? What about the fact that gay marriage is legal in many countries such as here in Canada, in Spain, England and France? Doesn’t that count? The whole world doesn’t think "American" you know.

 

How come it never knows when to stop snowing?

 

How come Hugh Jackman gets the whole package- good looks, muscles, a nice smattering of hair on his chest as well as ability to act and sing?

 

Ahhhh...Hugh Jackman. A pretty picture.

 

 

How come that rap song- “Same Love” is so big? It's still rap and when the guy doesn't talk-rap on the recording, a girl- who at least can sing, chortles the chorus. What's going to happen to rap music 20 years down the road? Are people going to have fond memories to hold on to when they think of a rap song?

 

How come it’s rumoured that Stephen Harper and the Harperites have purposely devalued the Canadian buck? Is it because he has us- the taxpayers, to foot the bill for his mini-vacations to the Holy Land under the guise of “leadership”.  Does anyone in Israel really care about Canada or does any country Harper gives 150 million dollars of our money to care?

 

How come blood is thicker than water?

 

How come assholes exist? No, I don’t mean the ones we poop from…I mean the other kind.

 

An Human asshole up close. Don't touch!!

 

 

How come the women who comparison shop and show flyers advertising the same product at a lower price at another store, don’t shop at the other store offering the lower price in the first place. Why do they stand in front of me in my line at Wal*Mart? Do they really do something with the money they save or just buy more cigarettes and booze?

 

How come I have such a dim view of these shoppers?

 

How come people who smoke those electronic cigarettes don’t realize they are still inhaling crap into their lungs with every puff?

 

How come the people driving in front of me never signal?

 

How come cell phone companies lock their cell phones and if we want to unlock them it costs us 50 bucks? Apparently, it’s to protect us and them from fraud?

 

How come people got the brilliant idea to commit fraud in the first place?

 

How come a warm, beautiful place like Hawaii is 9 hours away- by air?

 

How come Brechin is only 15 minutes away- by car?

 

The Hawaii vs Brechin debate rages on.

 

 

How come Rob Ford is still in office? How come someone- anyone, can’t do something about it? What are they afraid of?

 

How come Stephen Harper is still in office when a minority of Canadians voted for this party in the first place?

 

How come I can’t think of any more How Comes right now?

 

 

ROBBLOG #524

Kalvin Newhard was a nerd who lived in Mega City.

 

At least, that’s what some of his friends thought him to be.

A big, chunky nerd.

Kalvin didn’t believe he was a nerd.

Kalvin also didn’t think of himself as chunky.

It was probably just the vest sweaters he regularly wore that made his appear that way.

 

True, Kalvin worked in a little, out-of-the-way bookshop called Printed Dreams but still, Kalvin didn’t feel like a nerd.

However, the complete truth was a matter of fact.

He looked like a nerd although some folks thought Kalvin Newhard looked remarkably similar to Clark Kent.

 

Kalvin wore big, black-rimmed glasses and his thick, dark hair was brushed back off his forehead and lacquered with Brilliantine.

Lots of Brilliantine.

Kalvin thought Brilliantine on his hair was cool.

 

Kalvin also thought he looked especially cool in his Brazen Boy underwear he had purchased at Doolie’s Department store, just down the street from Printed Dreams.

Brazen Boy kept him in check.

Held him firm but not too tight.

Tobey Maury, Kalvin’s favourite action hero and actor, had told a talk show host that he wore Brazen Boys- they were very comfortable.

So, Kalvin thought what’s good enough for Tobey is good enough for him.

He felt secure in his underwear choice.

He understood Tobey Maury’s meaning of the word “comfortable”.

 

 

 

Tobey played Actionman in the movies and Kalvin was smitten. Gossip rags rumoured that Tobey Maury was Gay. It didn’t matter to Kalvin, although he had to admit that he did like watching Tobey on screen what with Tobey’s huge biceps and all straining beneath the thin layer of latex covering his skin.

Anyway, just because he wore a superhero suit, that didn’t make Tobey a homosexual.

Much like himself, Kalvin didn’t think Tobey was a Nancy-Boy but the proof was in the pudding or at least in the Brazen Boys underwear.

 

One day as Kalvin was sorting through several boxes of used books filing them carefully on the appropriate shelves, he had a magnificent idea. Why couldn’t he be an action superhero just like Tobey? Kalvin raced to the research section of the book shop and began to scour through books and periodicals looking for information on how to be a superhero. It was lucky that Tuesdays were slow days in the book trade and hardly anyone came through the book store door that afternoon.

 

Kalvin made notes and sketched various versions of his superhero self on unlined sheets of foolscap. He was pleased with his etchings but he lacked an action hero name.

He thought about it for many minutes while sipping on a glass of Gatorade, when suddenly- out of nowhere, it came to him.

Beefy Man.

Although his friends thought of him as chunky, Kalvin always considered himself to be a little more beefy than chunky. He knew he had respectable, arm muscles. In fact, he had noticed them bulging that very morning as he removed the lid from a new jar of peanut butter.

 

Kalvin liked the thought of being Beefy Man.

The more he thought about it the more he liked it.

The more he liked it the more he knew it was the perfect name-

Beefy Man.

It rolled off the tongue and conjured up warm thoughts of a tough, manly fellow who fought for the little guy, erasing crime from the streets of Mega City.

 

Later that day when the shop was closed, Kalvin went to Doolie’s Department store. He ran excitedly up two flights of stairs to the bath and linen department. There, Kalvin looked for the biggest, reddest bath towel he could find.

Finally, there it was- a beautiful, all-cotton, bright red bath sheet.

Kalvin unfolded the sheet, holding it up in front of him. It fell from his chest to the top of his shiny brown loafers. Kalvin took the bath sheet into the nearby washroom and wrapped it around his neck, tying the ends in a big knot at his throat.

He looked in the mirror.

As fabulous as it appeared, he stood in a quandary, staring at the almost super hero in the mirror.

He knew that something wasn’t quite right.

It must be the sweater vest and his glasses.

Kalvin thought some more while staring at his reflection in the mirror.

It has to be something else.

 

Of course it was something else!

The towel made a great super hero cape but it was the rest of the clothes he was wearing that was all wrong. Quickly, Kalvin removed the towel from his neck and shoulders and stripped out of his clothing. He stood naked before the bathroom mirror.

He looked at his nakedness.

Not half bad.

A handsome patch of chest hair covered his pectoral muscles.

Kalvin flexed his biceps.

Nice!

He had an idea.

He tied the bath sheet around his neck once more and made an impromptu pose, like one of the bodybuilders he had seen on the cover of the exercise manuals back at the bookstore.

Kalvin was amazed at how good he looked.

No, not just good.

Hot!

Even his manly bits seemed pleased.

Truly he was Beefy Man ready to fight crime where it was rampant. One look at his fine, beefy physique and the criminals would high-tail it but fast!

Beefy Man didn’t need earthly bits of cloth and leather to prove who he was.

No, Beefy Man would be born into the world of crime-fighting with nothing but a red bath sheet and his manly physique.

He gathered up his clothing and shoes and dumped them into the waste basket nearby. He ran out the washroom door and rushed to the stairs. His heart was pumping. His penis slapped back and forth against his thighs as he ran down the stairs to the street level.

 

As fast as he could run, his sturdy legs carried him across the lower level of Doolie’s.

His body felt free.

Unbound. Unleashed. Unfettered.

 

Customers screamed and hid their eyes from the powerful site as if they weren’t worthy to gaze upon such a remarkable piece of magnificence.

Kalvin was pleased.

Out the door of Doolie’s he ran.

He stood proudly on the sidewalk- naked and oblivious to the many people in the street.

Some yelled.

Some ran away to safety.

The brave ones stood and gazed upon the sight.

Kalvin’s penis had stopped flapping as he flung the red superhero, cape-like bath sheet over his right shoulder.

He stood naked, feet a manly distance apart and placed his large fists on his sturdy hips.

He could feel a warm breeze caressing his bits.

He looked down and realized he was standing on top of a subway grate.

 

Kalvin didn’t mind, he just pounded his broad chest and yelled out once again-

Beefy Man is here!

Fear not!

…Yes. That sounded good. Very much like an action hero!

Fear Not!! Beefy Man is here at your service- he shouted once again yet much louder than all the previous times.

 

Kalvin took off running down the street- barefooted and bare-assed.

It felt good.

He was making a difference or rather Beefy Man was making a difference.

Soon crime would no longer run rampant.

 

About an hour later, as the late afternoon sun was setting behind the downtown buildings, Kalvin Newhard was placed in a police van and driven swiftly away to the Mega City Police Station.

 

The End.

 

 

ROBBLOG #523

I can’t think of much to write about these days- what with this awful month of January and all.

 

However, my purpose here is to entertain you- the reader of this Blog, so I think I had better get to it- hadn’t I?

 

Now, I can’t do a balancing act nor recite poetry because you can neither hear nor see me.

No, I will just have to impress you with words or a story.

Now, let me see……

 

Well…

 

There once was a Woodcutter by the name of Nathan. Nathan lived in the woods in a cozy, little cottage made of wood- since he was a Woodsman. He built the charming cottage by himself in an open meadow within the woods. Nathan was very strong and had huge biceps because of the woodcutting and other stuff that he did- almost daily.

Many people- both manly men and willowy women, who lived in the neighbouring village considered him hot! Now, some of the other “stuff” he didn’t do every day but he did do it most days and there were even some days when he did other “stuff” three and four times.

 

Now, about two weeks ago, Nathan went to bed at his usual time- about 930 ish. Nathan as I mentioned before was very strong. He was also very, very handsome with a cleft chin and a profuse patch of wiry hair on his chest.

He would be quite the catch.

Nathan as I mentioned before was a beefy, brawny man. He stood about 5 foot 9 in his bare, athletic feet and always slept in the raw.

That means naked.

He liked to air his pores at night. He also liked to unfetter his man-parts, letting them flop about all night long- unencumbered.

To put it quite plainly Dear Readers- Nathan liked being naked.

Some days he would even chop wood while he was naked- that’s not only dangerous, it’s a story for another time and place!

 

 

 

So, Nathan trotted off to bed after brushing his teeth and taking a long, hot, soapy shower with Mr. SpongeJohn. That’s what Nathan called his “shower glove”-

Mr. SpongeJohn.

 

Soon, after climbing between the cool sheets- made from 350 thread count Egyptian cotton, Nathan fell into a deep sleep. He slept for several hours.

 

Much later, he woke finding his arms flung uncomfortably above his head.

Nathan knew he never slept with his arms above his head….although, sometimes when the morning sun spread its welcoming rays across the bed, he would kick off the covers and lie there letting the sun caress every inch of his powerful, naked Woodcutter’s body.

 

Nathan knew he was awake but his head felt a little fuzzy. His right arm seemed to be asleep even though he knew he had to be awake. The arm started to tingle- just a bit.

 

He felt different somehow. It didn’t feel like he was lying on his familiar, soft, memory foam mattress tucked between 350 thread count sheets. He lifted his head to the right and saw that he was lying flat on what appeared to be a piece of warm, dark-coloured, granite. He tilted his head forward and looked down his stocky Woodcutter frame through the thick, black hair that covered his muscular, barrel-shaped chest.

At once he could see he was still naked.

His size 12 feet were bare and he could see both ankles were bound by what appeared to be thick, dark-coloured, leather straps.

The straps were irritating his leg hair.

 

Yes, not only was Nathan a Woodsman but he was a hairy Woodsman.

That was a plain and simple fact- very hairy indeed- from the top of his head to the tip of his furry toes.  Onlookers frequently made the same observation when they saw him swimming in the pond at the edge of the village.

He didn’t mind.

He liked being hirsute.

Somehow it made him feel like a manly man- confident and comfortable in his own hairy skin.

Nathan chuckled to himself - better that than a pale-skinned, eviscerated chicken like some of the other guys who swam in the pond.

Yes, to be sure, Nathan trimmed occasionally with his Phillips Body Hair Trimmer just to keep things looking neat and tidy but right now, the ample hair on his legs and ankles was the reason for the slight discomfort. Hair burn- he thought.

 

Looking above his head he could see that both wrists were bound by the same leather straps as his ankles. His right arm still tingled with numbness. He curled his beefy arms and flexed his bound Woodsman Wrists as much as he could and soon some of the numbness abated- yet the leather thongs still held his thick wrists firmly in place.

 

He looked about and saw torches gently flickering at each corner of the slab where he lay- constrained. Orange-hued flames gently danced across his tanned stomach and thighs.

Actually, Nathan was tanned all over, you know, what with chopping wood naked sometimes.

He wasn’t cold as he lay there.

The air temperature in the room and that of the slab was warm and comforting. It was dark except for the flickering light from the torches and a rather large candelabrum- that held a dozen or so candles, standing a short distance to the left of his unclothed frame. At first Nathan thought he heard Liberace playing “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria” from the Sound of Music but alas he was mistaken.

The room was quiet.

 

Nathan, as I mentioned before, felt comfortable in his nakedness, so he didn’t find his predicament upsetting in the least being tied to that slab in a comfortably warm- yet darkened room. He wondered how he had been brought to this place. Who had tied his naked Woodcutter’s frame to the granite slab and why had he not resisted?

 

At present, Nathan laid there in all his glory, pondering the situation. As he did so, he felt a strange movement of air nearby and saw a shadow moving through the flickering candlelight. Although he could see no one, he sensed a presence. Someone or something was standing or perhaps sitting just outside the boundaries of his peripheral vision. A minute or two passed.

Nathan’s muscles strained from beneath his leather straps as he tried to free himself.

He had to pee but struggling was useless. He was bound tightly.

 

How good he must look- he mused, tied naked to the slab. If only someone had the wherewithal to snap a photo or two with his smartphone but alas Nathan realized he wasn’t wearing the jacket where his Smartphone was safely tucked away in the inside breast pocket.

 

Suddenly, as Nathan lay there looking all good and musclebound, he felt a soft, gentle brush across his manly hardware. He looked down once more, through the wiry, dark hair covering his beefy chest, then down even more over his tawny mid-section towards his privates.

There he saw a rugged hand holding a large, red feather which was tickling his manbits…

 

 

The End.