A Walk In The Park

I love that first shared romantic glance.

Contest Prompt

"The Writer's Cramp" Prompt words BOLDED - the twist is to not make your entry about Sesame Street itself., big bird, the grouch, cookie monster, Bert and Ernie, trash can, the count'

“That big bird in the tree over your head is about to make you the grouch of the century. I’d move, if I were you.”

“What? Oh. Thanks. I’m Selma Hapen. These are my twins Bert and Ernie. Hey. They really like you. They usually don’t show affection to men I’m attracted to.”

The one with Ernie printed on his t-shirt was kicking my shins. Bert was doing his best to bite off one of my fingers. I stepped in the bird poo, slipped, and the three of us lay spread eagled at Sema Hapen’s feet.

Bert and Ernie had the air knocked out of them (and maybe some common sense knocked in) for they both stopped attacking me while wheezing life back into body and limb. “Hey,” I said, rising back up on my six foot four, two-twenty frame. I slid a manicured hand through my thatch of wavy dark hair and winked one sky blue twinkling eye. “Guess we met by accident.”

That got a girlish laugh. “Oh, you. Not only gorgeous but quick witted. You’re not married are you? That would be too much to ask.” Selma Hapen patted her hair, pouted her lips, and made kissy noises in the air. “It doesn’t matter. If you are, you’ll be divorced soon.”

By the count in my head, this was the fifteenth pretty bird I’d attracted since starting this walk in the park. I was shooting for twenty-one. It was time to move on. “Nice meeting you, I think. Perhaps we’ll meet again some time.”

"Why do all the single men I greet ignore me, just because I happen to have kids?" The kissy face smile turned upside down.

The noise of a homeless man cursing while rooting through a trash can came to our ears. “Daddy!” Bert and Ernie sang out in a high pitched duet.

“Oh. Don’t mind him,” Selma Hapen urged, grabbing my sleeve and ducking as the guy threw a half eaten pizza like a frisbee at us. “He’s my ex-husband. I took him for everything he had.”

“Thanks, Dad!” The kids said in chorus, chomping down on either end of the pepperoni pizza.

“I’ll take that out of the alimony and child care I owe you,” Dad shouted before returning to his new found recycling career.

“What did he do to deserve a divorce?” I asked out of polite curiosity. “A sordid affair? Both mental and physical abuse? Unequal carrying the load of raising your demonic kids?” I stopped for breath and waited for an answer.

“Oh, no. He was a doll. I trained him well. He rarely had to sleep on the sofa. He liked doing that all on his own. No, it was his addiction to snack food. Oh, the way he could crunch drove me nuts. He is a real cookie monster when it comes to chocolate chips. He never left a single one for me.”

We watched as her Ex devoured a half empty bag of potato chips in one gulp. He gave an olympic sized belch up in the air that keeled over the big bird aiming for him below. “Quite the effective weapon. I get your point,” I agreed.

I had yet to have to make use of the normal kinds of male behavior, like farting, scratching, or the afore seen belching that make women flee screaming in fear for their lives, but made a mental note. The next bird, this one a naked backed western redhead winging her way through the park, paused to eye me with startled appraisal.

I pried Bert and Ernie off each of my legs, and waved Selma Hapen a seldom happening goodbye. She was a looker. Big Bird had changed its position and was now directly over her head.

Wc 597