Frank Flâneur leaned on his walking stick just outside the saloon. Some might say he was lollygagging, but to the trained eye he was clearly dilly dallying. The few damp crumpled bills in his vest pocket would not get him through the night so a new enterprise was clearly needed in the quest for the elusive spondulix.
As luck would have it she just happened to be hustling her bustle down the boulevard at this precise moment. Standard Moxie was tightly contained in her serious whalebone corset which caused her bosoms to well up over her marginally proper neckline. Frank was captured by the approaching silhouette, enticed by the sideshow cameo, and ensnared into the jetstream of her bustle as it bounced and bobbled down the planked sidewalk.
Standard’s hourglass figure put many exertions into this confirmed flâneur’s beady brain. Exertions that he hoped would extract enough shekels and sumptuous diversions to pass this day and perhaps trail into a weekend of surreptitious and languid luxuries. Standard Moxie’s brief over the shoulder glance upon her stiff passage was all the encouragement this feral cur required. He twirled his waxed mustache, smoothed his gabardine trousers, checked his reflection in the tavern window, and gave himself a wink.
Aster la vista plant life. I hopped on my astral plane and headed for the animal kingdom. From spore to sprout was an interminable boarding process from hell. The gate agents seemed engulfed by a morass of myopic malaise. But as sure as mayonnaise is yummy enough to let us enjoy vegetables on their lonesome, I knew the opportunity would turnip soon to release my inner animal. It seemed like forever. Eons and epochs blended together before my mitotic formed the longed for aster. Or do you say meiotic. TomAto, Tamahto. But I never called the whole thing off. Even though it took further eternities before I was able to make an aster of myself; I did it. So now as I soar along on my own private astral plain I shall continue reaching for the stars.
Having absorbed the BahaiFi as well as a plethora of WiFi. Adding some 3G, 4G, and LTE stirred my brain which sent over a message from one hemisphere to the other, “Go quest old man. Go quest”; to where once upon a time I rambled, trucked, and genetically gambled. Now I find myself doing the slow limping amble. Not in parked cars with my long blond haired agitated young female animal of yore, lip locking in all the tabooed places. I am become the geezer doing geezer appropriate Tai Chi Tangos in the middle of an expanse of green grass.
Now my Chi has been TangoFied.
It was then I spied it!
Bike path! Why we used to ride these hills over root rippled mud ruts down hill with no brakes hoping we could make the cut and not wind up in the drink.