I must admit that a few of you have enquired as to whether these have been written from personal experience. HONESTLY!! Suzy Q, a mother of high moral standing, has never been quite so affronted. I have come to this lofty role with a spotless reputation, but an abundant imagination, so all you smutty schoolboys out there, keep your peckers in your pockets and zip your lips. Ladies, you may read on...
- The Mouse that Roared.
- Granted I was a bit of a mouse. Maybe nobody had ever built me up to believe in myself, but that’s hardly an excuse to let a man, a mean, scaly man, whom I just imagined myself to be in love with, trample all over me. Maybe that’s putting it too mildly. Rather, why not take a ten ton truck and callously crush me? He dumped me after a hot fling at the Christmas party with the office tart.
- I couldn’t bear the shame of walking in every morning just as the sniggering stopped, and everybody pretended to be hard at work. Nor the pain it gave me to see them groping at that office aphrodisiac, the water cooler. So, the mouse that barely squeaked resigned, because of that mean, scaly man, I just imagined I was still in love with, and walked out of my dream job. The office tart slipped into my shoes just as stealthily as she’d leapt onto my man. Granted she was skinnier, prettier, and tittier, but I doubt she was wittier. Maybe her daddy had instilled a lifetime of self confidence (if not morality) in her and she truly believed she could achieve all her dreams and have whatever she so desired.
- I was desolate. I didn’t eat and drank too much and cried to soppy songs about heartbreak. But one day, one fine bright day, the sun started to shine again, and I made a plan. I used my pension money and joined the gym, and let’s say, I had a little work done, so that my appendages would not have looked out of place at a Miss Muizenberg pageant. My luck changed, and I won a makeover from a magazine; heaven knows I’d spent enough time entering competitions whilst weeping into my cups. I got to keep the clothes from the shoot, which accentuated my slim but newly improved figure. They changed my hairstyle and colour and taught me how to vamp it up. I started looking HOT and decided to capitalize on it.
- When I’d completed my act, I settled myself seductively on a barstool at the office watering hole at exactly 5pm. Sure as eggs, in came the lovebirds for their after work anaesthetic, although, was it my imagination, or were they looking a little less in love and more like an old married couple? Whilst sipping my mojito I crossed and uncrossed my slender legs so that my short little skirt offered the patrons an invitation to flirt. Lover Boy couldn’t take his eyes off me. When his amor mata went to powder her nose, or steal another woman’s man, he rushed to the bar to get her another white Cinzano and lemonade.
- “Excuse me,” he enquired, “but don’t I know you from somewhere?”
- I turned to eye him up and down, giving him enough time to get a good view of my expansive new cleavage. Honestly, he was Pavlov’s dog. I could have scooped his saliva up from the carpet with a tablespoon. Then I inhaled deeply on my Sobranie, and blew the smoke directly into his face.
- “No Sir, I don’t know you, I never knew you, and I certainly don’t want to know you now,” I replied.
- Just then, Carl from the gym, you know, the one they call BB, short for the Body Beautiful, (and the face isn’t too bad either) came bounding over to me, all bulging biceps and bright smiles. Just before he kissed me full on my newly voluptuous red hot lips he cried, “Oh thank heavens, HERE you are. I’ve been looking EVERYWHERE for you Suzy Q!”
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