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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Buzzard's - 1. Chapter 1: Mister Wonderful

When souls collide someone is bound to get...

Buzzard's

Chapter One: Mister Wonderful

Dear J.

I saw MW today. I would like to say it was accidental. But you know the truth, don’t you. I have spent the last month telling you everything I could find out about him. And it has been three days since I saw him last. I walk down the street and hope to see him. I drive down the road and hope to pass him. I sit in Dave’s Café and watch for him with each bite I take. Last night I actually drank a second beer at Tunnel hoping he would walk in. But I saw him this morning. Jogging again. I had a fantasy explosion go off in my head. Not to mention the one happening in my pants, well I truly wanted to explode in my pants. You know J. I have still not seen him with anyone. He didn’t look at me, but he smiled at Booger. Everyone smiles at Booger until they get to know him better. You know I think runners look down on us walkers. I walk Booger every day, even rainy days, four miles at least. But most of the joggers just grunt when I say hello. Some of these guys I have been saying hi to for years. You would think some of them would be my friends by now. Oh well, sleep time, maybe MW will visit in my dreams. Goodnight J.

    *****************************************************************

I was wearing the tightest pair of black levi’s I own. I’m proud of my butt. I don’t go around saying that. But I know it’s great. For a guy my butt is really round and full, sitting like a moon on top of long legs. I get my jeans at thrift stores, sometimes off the women’s rack. Hey I like having a nice apartment, so I cut corners other places. I know this girl named Judy. She has the greatest butt I have ever seen. It is butt perfection. I have gone to bed with her just because I love her butt so. Well, she is my best friend too. She sleeps with me because I love her and she keeps messing with the wrong guys, who always hurt her. I do the same thing. Judy and I work together too. We work at Buzzard’s.

The girls were hopping this morning at the shop. It was busier than usual. There were the appointments of course. But most of the business was walk ins. Kids, you know, little people, still in high school. Bless their little credit cards. Buzzard’s isn’t a trend shop or a cool shop, it is a value shop. The ‘best cut you ever had shop’ for an affordable price. It worked. At least for the last five years. Judy and I own the shop and the mortgage on the building. Five years ago this was a very nasty hole. But a hole on the edge of everything. Today, Buzzard’s was in the middle of a very high rent district. How all that worked out is a mystery. But why question. It’s great. Our building is old and made of brick and rock. The shop is on the ground floor of course. Judy’s apartment is the top floor. Mine is the third floor. We rent the second floor, but are looking for a new tenant at the moment. The basement is rented by Borge, an artist/maniac.

I have been sans boyfriend for six months, since the last big “S” event in my life. Tom and I were at Tunnel, just to get out and talk to friends and watch the game. Well Tom wanted to watch the game and talk football. I was fine with that. But somehow we got into a shouting match at the bar. And then Tom say it, the “S” word. “I am so tried of all your shit and prancing around, we are through you big Sissy.” I had been angry, but oh boy now I was blind with rage. I stamped on Tom’s big toe with my heel and as he hopped and howled, I grabbed his beer and stuck it upside down in his pants making sure the long neck was in his crack. And then I said something stupid. “Who the hell fucks who, you big bottom?”

“Woops.” I think that was my first word when I woke up on the floor. Tom had completely forgotten his toe and taken me out in a one two punch. The gut first and then the eyeball. My stomach was sore for two days and I had a beautiful black eye for five days, then it turned an ugly green yellow blue for five more days. Tucker, the bouncer at Tunnel took me home, the angel. “You are the baddest sissy I know, but you have got to learn to block and duck.” Hearing Tucker call me a sissy was okay, even sweet. “Tucker a sissy is only good for two things, sucking and fucking.” I moaned feeling completely sorry for myself. “Tell that to Tom’s toe. Now let’s get you home.” I thought about asking Tucker to stay with me that night, but I didn’t.

So here I am now, working on a Saturday with no plans and no boyfriend. The shop was so busy that no one was going to get a lunch break. So to smooth the frizzled divas, I had gone down the block to get sandwiches and drinks. Women are always on a diet until you offer to buy them lunch. Then watch out. I was carrying eight bags and ten drinks. Thankfully in a big box. I was approaching the corner with the red light. I was coming to a stop when the light changed for me and I stepped into the street. Two hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back, just as a car whizzed by beeping its horn. And I kept falling back, all the way to the sidewalk. Bump. Awooo. Splash. I was on the sidewalk. One of the cokes had fallen out of the box and spilled down my front. And I was sitting between two long legs and big hands were holding my shoulders. I turned my head. It was him. Mr. Wonderful. The guy I had seen around the neighborhood. The guy I wrote about in my journal.

“Are you alright?”

Do you look and leap or leap and look?
<br />Copyright © Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original art, characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.<br /><br />This story was originally written in early 2010.<br /><br />Transfer to new system on: 12/20/2010<br /><br />© Copyright 2010 by Bugeye. All Rights Reserved.<br /><br /><br /><br />
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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