Pick-up

Tired of Darcy and his wet shirt antics, I turned
my attention to the skinny guy in the corner
of the coffee shop, nursing his Lowell and latte.

I asked if the seat was taken but was taken aback
by his rather sneery reply that Alan would be along shortly
and would Howl if someone was sitting in his seat.

Dan, Ian and Michael did their best to get my attention,
bless them, but those boys just bored me rigid;
running around in circles with their ridiculous riddles.

I did think of joining the King at his table but
that Carrie chick was always hanging around
and I’d heard she had a bit of a temper – best not.

I noticed Mrs Faust hovering by the door, but managed
to avoid her gaze; I wasn’t in the mood to dish the dirt
on the boys today, besides, she scared the hell out of me.

Just as I’d resigned myself to flying solo, in he swanned;
all swagger and sway, and swept me right off my feet.
‘Grab your coat kid, you’ve pulled!’

‘But where are we headed?’ – ‘Las Vegas of course!’
‘Just need to pick up the Samoan on the way
and then we’re outta here baby!’

Dammit! I was always such a sucker for the bad boys!

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