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Thursday, April 17, 2014

My TIW Challenge 61 take :-)

Ah, memories...
...blah, blah, blah...take written history. You think that's what really happened? Turn on your TV, watch the you'll be telling me that's true as well...omission is a lie.
Anyway, I had a little fun with the latest Iron Writer weekly challenge :-) Hope you like it...

Challenge 61 - lace shawl, revolving doors, image of a fire-eater on a beach at night, duct tape

"So, what happened to Stanley?"
"Who?" Tracy pouted her lips in the mirror, making sure the lipstick was perfect.
Her eyeliner, however, needed touching up.
"Stanley, Stanley Kundricks, you know, last time I saw you, when was it…?"
"Almost a year ago, Brigitte, almost a year, right after my last birthday."
Brigitte and herself were going out on the town, have a few drinks, do a little
dancing, maybe get lucky. With those eyebrows, Brigitte would have to be very
lucky…the lift up bra helped.
"Yeah, then." There was no regret in her voice that she’d ignored Tracy for so long,
but that was Brigitte, here today, gone tomorrow. "So?"
"Oh, that Stanley…no, it didn’t work out, really."
"But he was fantastic, a great catch!"
"Yeah, well…"
"We double dated, I remember now. Ugh, I was with that Dave bloke, yuck."
"Ha! Yeah, I remember him. Those jeans…"
"We went to a restaurant together, and then…" Brigitte lay on the bed looking in
her pocket mirror making silent kisses in the air.
"…and then the beach." Tracy was almost done, she only had to sort her hair out.
And choose an outfit.
"Oh, yeah! There were a few performances, weren’t there? A juggler, a fire-eater, he was cute. I tried to get his attention but that Dave said we should walk the Quay ’in the moonligh’."
"Yes, but…"
"And that was so romantic, when Stanley bought you a lace shawl from that old
gypsy woman and you wore it as you guys strolled along the river. Dave tried to
get the better of me in one of the alleys but I gave him a kick in the balls. Stopped
him for a few minutes. Stanley just held your hand, so nice. I wish I could find
someone like that, so gentleman like, and not these tossers I always get."
"Yes, well…"
"So? What ever happened? Last time I saw you guys that night, after Dave tried it
on again, was when you disappeared through those revolving doors of that posh
hotel on the corner."
"That Dave, had some money but no idea. Left him a few weeks later for a truck
driver. Ha, he was funny. Smelly but funny, and there was always the chance of
travel...and bacon."
"So what happened? What happened with Stanley, Tracy? Any fireworks? Any
plans? Why aren’t you guys married or something?"
"C’mon, what was it? Not enough money? Car not fast or flashy enough? Not so
manly in the downstairs department? What? What was it? What went wrong, huh,
"Lousy kisser?"
"No, I think it was when he wrapped duct tape around my mouth, tied me up and
threw me the trunk of his car, drove me to some desolate hut in the middle of the
woods and left me there to rot for six months."
"Oh, right." Brigitte went back to her pocket mirror and practised smiling.
"I think that was the clincher, really."
"Well, no one’s perfect."

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