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Flash by Anel Viz
On warm, sunny days I like to spend my lunch hour reading the newspaper in the park. When school is out and mobs of noisy children are running about everywhere, I head for a favorite solitary bench, far from the playing fields, wading pool and other areas where they hang out. There I can read in peace. It faces a grassy slope that separates it from the more frequented areas, and behind it are thick bushes and a few large shade trees. Hardly anyone goes there but myself. The other day, however, I saw that an elderly woman and her bag of peanuts had taken spot. Some half-dozen squirrels clustered around her. “Well, better squirrels than kids,” I thought, and sat down at the far end of the bend, moving carefully so as not frighten the little rodents. I needn’t have worried. The creatures are bold and experienced beggars. “Good afternoon,” she said. “I’ve come to feed the squirrels.” “Yes, I see that.” “I love squirrels. I know them all by name.” I assumed it was she who had named them, and said so. “I did,” she said proudly. “The reddish one with the fat tummy and scraggly tail is Paunch, and the brown one there with the very big ears, I call him Flash. Would you like to know why?” “Hmmm,” I replied, as non-committally as possible. She tossed a peanut off onto the path to the left. Almost before his companions had seen it land, Flash was there, pouncing on the morsel. “See? Quick as a flash!” “Interesting,” I said, and opened my newspaper to signal the end of our conversation. I have found that chance remarks have a tendency to be prophetic. A couple of minutes later a good-looking young man sauntered by wearing, of all things in such fine weather, a long beige raincoat. He stopped in front of us, turned, and opened his coat, exposing a three-quarters erect penis. His pubic fur matched the coat of Flash the squirrel almost exactly, and you can guess for yourselves what parts of him reminded me of Paunch’s little tummy and scraggly tail. He stood there a moment to make sure we had seen what would have been my pride and joy if I had something half as large to display. Even the squirrels gasped. No further description is needed. You know what they look like. Then he took off, running up the slope, his open raincoat billowing behind him like a cape. The frightened squirrels scrambled up into the trees. Next to me the woman was shaking so, I wondered if she were about to have a heart attack. I asked if she was all right. “I’m fine,” she said, catching her breath, “but are you going to let him get way with it? Why didn’t you pursue him, catch him, and report him to the police?” “I was afraid of leaving you alone. You seemed to be in distress.” “Rubbish! If you ask me, you were afraid he’d give you an encore.” In a flash, it dawned on me that I would have very much enjoyed an encore, and I regretted not having run after him. I wouldn’t have minded a glimpse at his buns, too. I’m rather partial to a nice male rump, and the man was a fine runner. But – alas! – he hadn’t put on the show for my benefit. What ever I would have said to him? “Excuse me, sir. Might I have another peek at that superlative dick of yours?” No, it wouldn’t do at all. I snorted, and went back to reading my newspaper.
© 2008 Anel Viz
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