I was tooling down Madison on my way to work. While waiting for a light, I see a couple in an old beat-up Chevy pull up to the curb. The woman, in her 30s as pale as he is black, slightly older, leans over kissing him tenderly on the lips lingering a little, before getting out.
We started walking in step, she and I, so I said, “You know, people should really kiss more.” I hoped her grin, the length of the Potomac, didn’t permanently stretch her face. “You got that right sweetie,” she said, giving my arm a friendly squeeze.
Greatly influenced, I walked into work and kissed the make-up man who said, “What the hell did I do to deserve this?” Then I attacked the photographer who snapped, “Not now honey, maybe later.”
Evie the librarian, after I kissed her, may stay clear of me for the next ten years, but the best line came from Tony the grocer who said, “OW – can’t you see my tooth’s infected?” grabbing his icepack, that if I wasn’t mistaken, had some cheese on it.
When I stepped back he did resemble a squirrel with a cheek the size of a soup bowl.
“What are you kissin me for anyway Susannah – gotta little itch?”
“Because Tony, we should kiss more, to show our appreciation for one another.”
He thought about this for a second grabbing his crotch like a ballplayer before handing me a HUGE, ripe tomato…
on the house.
“Whaddaya say to that Susannah?”
Me and my tomato thought about this for a second and said, “What do I say?
Itch this Tony.”