Monday, June 07, 2010

The Princess - Part 3 - Romeo and the Ho and, the Stomachless Horseman

No one in this story is finnish. That should be refreshing.

She was the friend of a Princess. Gorgeous body, beautiful long hair, but the face was already showing the sign of extensilve night living.

Just as it happens almost always, she showed subtle interest in me, since it was the other girl I was curious about.

There was also the feeling that I had about her being some sort of psycho. Trouble.

Staying away was the choice.

Definitely played the "I am so very picky" game.

So we'll call her PickyGrrrl (a.k.a Spidey)

Him I know from long time. We usually go to the same bar. Monobrow, always furrowed. Somewhere from a sunny place, in his thirties.

This guy, never smiling is one of the guys playing to the law of averages.

You know, if you try hard enough, you'll eventually get something.

The thing about giving 50 million monkeys 50 million typewriters and 50 million years.

They will eventually write Shakespeare's Hamlet.

Tries every living female. Last one I saw him with was a fifty year old woman, short and overweight, and these two were smooching... Just the mental image made me cringe.

He is "Stomachless Horseman"

Night one:

I am drunk and was having a guys night out which was just ending,

Waiting by the cloak room for a friend of mine to say bye to her friends, when Stomachless Horseman is walking by me with his legendary frown. Then I realize he is holding hands with somebody.

My eyes take time to adjust, but there she is, proudly and happily walking behing Stomachless Horseman, holding hands, having found a great catch, looking at me with "look what I got" eyes; PickyGrrrl.

People wondered why I was smiling the rest of the night.

Night two:

Sitting at the bar with my friend, who got me a glass of good whiskey even when I told him I want tea.

There comes an italian Romeo. Hair all spiked with diesel fuel. The masculine latino jaw firm in its place..

Proudly guiding his trophy blondie towards the bar, asking her what she will drink, ordering their drinks. Briefly looked over to me, with the stallion's eyes, with that look in his face. That look which told me that I dont have a trophy like that with me, and smirked.

The trophy was PickyGrrrl.

I smirked.

There he was, Valentino, proud to be carrying with him PickyGrrrl, proud to have such a trophy; a trophy which was delighted to be seduced by Stomachless Horseman, the picky, high quality man who the stomach to get into ben naked with fifty year old overweight women and exchange various body juices.

I smirked, knowing the only one who could be proud of any achievement, if there was any, would be that fifty year old woman who got to bed the man who can even bed blondies who are so attractive that they can bed handsome italian stallions.

I smirked back at Romeo.

Romeo the proud italian tool, no?

Dude, you were so tooled with. Heh, a proud tool.

How can I not smirk, .how?

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