Fifty Shades of Me

Though Valentine’s Day has come and gone, I thought this would be a good post Valentine’s Day Blog. So sit back, enjoy a cup of joe and read on.

I have been mulling it over in my mind. Thinking of letting my computer compose a novel. “Fifty Shades of Me”. Maybe make it a first person who just happens to be Christian Gray.

Start it off with: Hey, no matter what you’ve heard from the Ana side of things, I am not a bad guy. I only keep the whips around for my hobby. I like to show off my whipping skills on the rodeo circuit. Ana has such an imagination. She sees my whips, she goes all goo goo eyes over them. Even wants to borrow one. What can I say? I like Ana so I say okay.

As far as that BDSM thing, man I am not into that stuff. I hate pain. Either giving it or taking it. I know what you’re thinking No pain no gain. Whoever came up with that b.s. ought to be shot right between the eyeballs.

Sure I am a successful businessman but I don’t have a gazillion bucks. I own a little bookstore. That was how I met Ana. She called up the store and asked to interview me. I said why not. We did the interview. Nothing going on between the two of us. If there had been electricity flying, I would have felt it. Right? Right. Her college newspaper invited Ana and I for a photo shoot to illustrate the article. It was no big deal. 1500 words and a four by six.

Things went well on the shoot. She smiled. I smiled. I mean she is a pretty girl. Reminds me of my sister. Hey, don’t get any thoughts there. I love my sister but there is nothing going on between the two of us. My God, she is a Southern Baptist for heaven’s sake. And you how those Baptist are. Everything is a sin. Even thinking about sin is a sin. Definitely nada going on between sis and I.

Anyway Ana being nice and all, I get back to the bookstore. I think hey don’t I have that old used copy of “Tess of the d’Urbervilles” lying around somewhere. She said she’d lost her copy and it was her very favorite book of all time. I find the darn thing under a stack of old comic books I bought at an auction. The rats haven’t gotten to it yet.

I wrap the book up and FedEx it over to her. Next thing I know I get this call. It’s late and I am about half asleep. It’s her and she’s bawling like a baby. I almost hung up on her. Couldn’t understand her on the other end of the phone. Then she mentions Tess and I know who it is. She asks me to come and pick her up.

I am up for the damsel-in-distress gig. So I give her the a-okay. When I get to the bar she’s at, she’s barfing on the sidewalk. I’m thinking I am not letting this girl in my car. So I call her a cab, put her in, pay the driver and they’re on their way. So that is that. Little did I know.

Next morning Ana calls me and thanks me for the most incredible sex she ever had. Gee, I’d like to take credit, I says, but it was not me, baby. Turns out it was the cabbie. Man, that must have been some drive home.

Next thing I know I am being stalked by Ana. If I had any hair, I sure would like to get her out of it. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since that Saturday. I went to the cops and asked if there was something I could do. The cop said, Sure. Then he winked and said, I can think of about twenty things. So go on and get out of here. Thank your lucky stars.

Just about the time I walk out of the cop shop, there’s Ana. She starts talking about doing things I don’t even know the meaning of. Even if I did, I am sure I don’t want to do them. Seeing that look in her eyes. So I tell her to shush up. Go away. She does.

A day or two later I get an email from her. She is thanking me for the laptop she says I bought her. She’s calling it her Big Mac. Says she has never had a computer of her own to research BDSM stuff. I mean this girl is twenty-one if she’s a day and she has never had a computer. C’mon. Give me a break. And as far as any helicopter ride, that’s crazy. I can barely afford the payments on my Chevy. To top it all off, I am afraid of heights. So ain’t no way I am getting into a helicopter.

Then I get an email from her, telling me she just got a job at one of our local publishers. How she did that I will never know. I mean her emails were filled with grammatical and spelling errors. Her errors had errors. I ought to know. I used to teach high school English.

I don’t hear from her for a couple of weeks. Last night I was at a nice restaurant, treating myself for once. She walks in and plops her little rear in the chair across from me. Quit avoiding me, she says. Or rather demands. Look, she says, I just want to make you happy.

Happy. You can make me happy by leaving me alone.

No can do. We’re soul mates.

Soul mates, hell. You just need to go away and leave me alone.

Okay. I will. Just one thing first. A date.

Ain’t no way I am about to do that. I refused and she went away pouting for the time being.

That’s about it. And one other thing. My mother doesn’t think I am gay. She ought to know. She was married to Dad for seventeen years before he came out. She was just as surprised as everybody else.

So that is my idea for a bestseller. What do y’all think? Would you buy it? I don’t care if you read it. Just buy it please. I have car payments.

And I do want to buy some new handcuffs. Just kidding.

Kattwoman on the Prowl

Samantha preferred her Kattwoman identity to just plain jane Samantha Katt, tax attorney. As her red Ferrari zipped in and out of traffic, she spotted at least ten possible criminals passing her. She was late for work and she wasn’t about to let her night job interfere with her day work. Being a crime fighter might bring her a lot of highs but it wouldn’t pay the rent on that fancy new apartment she leased in downtown Gotham City.

A black Mercedes pulled out in front of her. It had a license plate of “Joker Dude” on its rump. Should she follow it or drive on into work? Her digital watch showed that her meeting with the people from Penguin Properties was over an hour away. She decided to follow the black car. This was so much more of a high than going through figures with a bunch of dirty old men, checking out her figure. That was why she wore dark conservative when she went into the meetings.

The Joker Dude turned left. She turned left, the adrenaline filling her crime-fighter brain. Batman said it wasn’t good to feel that way. He never did. 

Joker Dude turned off Bruce Wayne Thoroughfare and onto Riddler Blvd. He continued until he was almost out in the country. Then he zipped into a warehouse parking lot. She passed the warehouse, labelled Joker Stuff, and drove a half mile more, then pulled off the highway and onto a dirt road.

She popped open the trunk. Before you could say “Batman and Robin” thrice, she was in her sleek black Kattwoman outfit with her tiny black boots and a mask to match. Out came her Kattcycle. She jumped on and headed back towards the warehouse with the motto painted on its side, “It’s easy to pull a joke out of your ass.” She was higher than a kite. This crime fighter stuff was so much better than the drugs her psychiatrist had prescribed.

Pulling up next to the warehouse, she parked, threw a line up to the roof and climbed quickly to the top. Landing onto the flat surface, she ran across the roof until she found a place to enter the warehouse without being seen. She lowered herself through the window and looked down on the Joker and his gang of thugs. In their midst a seven foot man stood, dressed in a moose outfit with antlers.

“So you want to help us, Mr. Bullwinkle,” she overheard the Joker saying.

“Rocky and I can kill Batman and Robin for you,” Antler Guy said.

“What makes you think I need your help?”

“You’d have killed them if you could’ve. My poisoned antlers will do the trick.”

The adrenalin of danger coursed through Kattwoman’s blood. She was so high now that she could hardly control herself. She had even wet her pants. The last time that happened she had saved Batman and Robin from Carcenoma Girl and her cancerous bite.

She had to warn Batman. But her watch was telling her that it was getting late. No time for Batman now. 

She slipped back out the window and over the roof and back to her hot little Kattcycle. Soon she was back in her civilian clothes and on Bruce Wayne Thoroughfare and pulling into her office parking. It was back to her boring day as Samantha Katt, tax attorney extraordinary, and the dull work of debits and credits. Saving the world would have to wait.