Went a-Courtin'

Sheaves of Willow. An incorporated Nudist camp on 110 acres on the banks of The            
Hoochiecoochie River near Chattanooga. Operated by the Finley family since the          
latter part of the 18th century. Once inhabited by alligators, deer, and herons now            
a getaway for the uninhibited. Some years ago, the family annexed an old asphalt          
parking lot from an insane asylum that had been demolished. They covered it with          
sand and...Wallah! Crystal Beach.            
           
Two small streets intersect in the community. Stormy Daniels Blvd. and Billy Swaggart          
Avenue. The office is a single-wide trailer with another one stacked atop it. A living          
space for the Finleys. The office also serves as a book kiosk. In the world of nudism,            
a person is measured by their towels. One doesn't sit on anything unless it belongs            
to them.              
           
It is time to open the shop. I give Waldorf a pat on the head as he gives a series of          
clucks. As if Barry Manilow, with laryngitis. Waldy is a 17-pound rare breed of frog.          
He isn't much to look at, but we treat him as family. The species is very unique to the rainforests of Southern Ecuador. They have hair on their head and with part and comb          
over are appealing. We feed him gluten-free sun-ripened corpses of mosquitoes.              
           
One of the newbie nudies rushed in from the rain. I just turned on the radio and was          
scratching my testicles...".a-courtin', and he did ride, Uh-huh, Frog went a-courtin', he did
ride, Uh-huh." Waldy stood up on his hind legs and gave his best impression of Fred Astaire.          
 
           
"NOOOOOOOOO!  DON'T TOUCH HIM...ah shit!"            
           
There was a blood-curdling scream, but Waldy kept on tapping while chewing on the            
newbie's nose. I rushed around the counter and put pressure on the partially begone hooter. Unlacing a shoe and using the string as a tourniquet.          
           
"Said he, "Miss Mouse, are you within?" Uh-huh, Said he, "Miss Mouse, are you within?" Uh-huh."              
           
I had to think fast. So, I seared the flesh with my Zippo cigarette lighter. It smelled like Arby's Roast Beef. He was a little cantankerous, but I fitted him with a Mr. Potato Head Nose. The
vet had said that Walfdorf looked a bit pale. Possibly scurvy but zombieism wasn't ruled out.                          
               
   
***          
Crossing the street I saw a bolt of lightning strike her left leg which appeared to be a          
metal prosthesis causing her to backflip and tumble sault. She appeared out of sorts.          
In my mind, I gave her a 9.5 for technical and artistic performance even though she          
ricocheted off a lamp post. I was standing behind the counter lathering my genitals            
with soap and getting ready to bring in the sheaves. Looking in the mirror it appeared            
my dick had hydrophobia and rabies.            
           
She walked into the bookshop wearing an old rubber raincoat circa 1950's. It smelled            
like Michelin Tires. She took it off and shook a puddle that mosquitoes could have            
spawned. She gave the sign of The Cross and spat on the head of my cock mumbling          
something. I think she was performing an exorcism. Either that or a bad imitation of Kitty          
Wells, the Queen of Country music                  
           
She was naked and asked me if I had anything on vegans. Her tits looked like tube socks          
filled with sand. Hanging down to her 48th Parallel just above her navel. Her nipples            
looked like spools on a vintage Singer Sewing Machine. Each was pierced with a            
miniature bumper jack handle.            
           
On her head, she wore a coif and wimple. I knew she wasn't Red Riding Hood or Mother Teresa. She had a faded tattoo of a naked Jesus on her right thigh wearing a cowboy hat. I guessed her age is middle 70's. I am 84 years old, and my hearing aids need a tune-up. I asked her to speak louder.          
           
"DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING ON PAGANS?"          
                  
"There are vegan books mixed in with the Cookbooks and Diet books."          
           
"Do you have Fifty Shades of Gray?"            
           
"What?"          
           
"FIFTY SHADES OF GRAY...G  R  A  Y."          
           
"Hay is in the Agriculture section."