XPost: alt.traditional.witchcraft, alt.war.vietnam, alt.home.repair   
   XPost: alt.checkmate, alt.usage.english, alt.tv.red-dwarf   
   From: burkesbabes@bigass-babes.com   
      
   On 2/11/2019 8:50 AM, Colonel Edmund J. Burke wrote:   
   > On 12/3/2018 9:42 AM, Colonel Edmund J. Burke wrote:   
   >> HAMMEDARY   
   >>   
   >> I enjoy my shopping experience at my local Food-4-Less, which is sometimes   
   like a whirl through a Sunday Walmart.  I’m fascinated with the caliber of   
   folks I run across there, both at Food-4-Less and at Walmart.  (I hardly   
   never ever go to Walmart    
   anymore; the nearest location is too far a drive for this old codger.)    
   Nowadays, my Walmart experiences are strictly those of an online shopping   
   nature.   
   >>   
   >> So I was saying, here I am at Food-4-Less, taking a gander at the sale hams   
   over in the center isle display of the meat section.  Center isle: the one I   
   always manage to crash my cart into, which always pisses me off.  I'm taking   
   inventory of hams,    
   and exchanging a few pleasantries with a Mexican woman whose figure mocks an   
   overstuffed burrito.  She works there.   
   >>   
   >> Looking aimlessly around, I spy a stunning looking girl wearing the   
   traditional hijab, and she’s headed in my direction.  She’s probably a   
   Somalian immigrant, a recent addition to our surplus population here at   
   home.  She looks to be a shy    
   twenty-two or thereabouts, with perfectly smooth light-coffee skin, whose   
   color deepens only slightly around her sable eyes and slim Cupid ’s bow   
   lips.  Basically, she’s got a standalone face, the kind makeup won’t   
   possibly improve.  Face: oblong,   
    like a northern European.  A high forehead.  Picture of perfection.  A   
   Nubian Mona Lisa?   
   >>   
   >> When she looks my way I smile a little timidly--and she smiles back.  I   
   fell a little lightheaded.  When she draws up beside me, I beget some casual   
   comments regards the ham sale.  Then her ambience hits me full force.  Her   
   voice is soft and mild    
   and most pleasant.  Polite as a princess, which she could have been.  She   
   introduces herself as Kaaha.  The rest of her I appraise in bits and pieces   
   as modest decorum permits.  She shows off a general lean youthfulness that   
   even beneath the cascade    
   of her clothing is undeniable.  I imagine her wearing one of those big afros   
   and a micro Minnie skirt, like back in the 60s.  All that beautiful,   
   chocolate, naked skin.   
   >>   
   >> Well, I soon run out of conversation, and now I’m feeling a little   
   nervous.  "Hope you have a happy holiday, or what’s left of it" I say.    
   For a moment it seems like she’s almost disappointed.  But she only smiles.   
   >>   
   >> I watch her walk off, feeling a little like the fly fisherman who’d lost   
   the prize winning Tahoe tiger after a long fight.  But, like I said before,   
   young girls don’t even see us old guys really.  Not like they used to   
   thirty or forty years ago.   
     Nowadays we’re, like, almost invisible to them in our venerable antiquity.   
   >>   
   >>   
   >> *I often lose my sense of direction when in the presence of extraordinarily   
   beautiful women.  They always tend to throw me off balance, like a feeling of   
   not knowing where I am going.  Really, though, in the final assay, it’s all   
   about knowing    
   that a young African princess like Kaaha would surely have me calling my   
   doctor regularly, for an erection lasting more than four hours.  Bye.   
   >>   
   >> ;-)   
   >>   
   >>   
   >   
   > Great story by one of the world's philosopher-writer-poet-war heroes.   
      
      
   Note: speaking of overstuffed burrito, that's what Miss Recktum likes up her   
   sloppy gob.   
   LOL   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)