Cooter Monday

As I turned my head, I realized the hot lava spewing forth from my groin could be the beginning of a new immaculate conception, or was it my imagination running wild? I have to back up 12 hours and tell the story of our first meeting. I was walking the pup on a secluded golf course desert trail when all of a sudden I came upon a beautiful lady sobbing alongside my intended path. The Arizona morn was brilliantly sunny and clear. The woman was young for the retirement area I live in. Way too young. She was not a day over 50. A gorgeous redhead, who exuded sexiness with a touch of madness. I sucked in my stomach and asked for guidance from above.

“Please baby Jesus, I beseech you to allow me to have a teenage-style man boner. Don’t send me a half-interested old man salami which is unsure whether it should be placed in the hard or soft section of the meat deli. Also please allow it to be kosher, after all, I’m part Jewish and it is the holiday season.”

I get up all my nerve and ask this desert beauty, “Did you lose your golf ball?”

Sometimes losing a favorite golf ball can make one very sad.

She answered with her deep pouty lips, “No, no but it’s almost as bad. My batteries for my vibrator are dead and because of the pandemic, D batteries are not available.”

As she mentioned D batteries I looked at her closely and noticed, yes they are D’s. Definitely D’s. Christ, this really is a disaster. Please baby Jesus hear my prayer.

I now suavely mention, “Want to walk with me to my place and hear me play my fiddle?”

Shit, I know how to impress the ladies. My ability to dazzle will have “Red” succumbing to my charms in no time. The pup, by now, had enough of my shenanigans and proceeded to defecate close to the new love of my life. Red promptly produced a biodegradable plastic bag and scooped the poop with one swoop. This seemed to cheer her up for some strange reason. After the poop scoop, I was sure she was perfect, but the joy it brought her was confusing and should have raised red flags. Did I mention the pup's feces frequently was cucumber shaped?

The pup took the lead and off we went to find D batteries and play the violin. Hey diddle, diddle watch me play the fiddle. Oh my goodness, hopes were high and so was I.

Red began to give me the story about her beloved joystick she called John Smith and their time together.

“Why not call it John Doe?” I asked.

Damn, I have the lady talk skills.

Red giggled and responded, “Silly boy! It’s historical. You know, John Smith and Pocahontas? It just made our times together that more romantic. The brave Captain Smith and the innocent Indian maiden. Oh my goodness. I just noticed you have cottage cheese thighs with a varicose vein. Nothing turns me on more than these two wonderful traits. Maybe we can postpone the search for an electrical charge for John Smith.” To be continued...

Breaking news: A coatimundi was spotted by my ring camera in my front yard. Of course, I relayed the news to my neighbor Bernie and mispronounced the name of the creature. We now have decided CooterMonday is a better name for the animal. Be kind you all and stay safe.