I enjoy my shopping experience at my local Food-4-Less, which is sometimes like a whirl through a Sunday Walmart. Im 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 ****es 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 shes headed in my direction. Shes 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, shes got a standalone face, the kind makeup wont 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 Im feeling a little nervous. "Hope you have a happy holiday, or whats left of it" I say. For a moment it seems like shes almost disappointed. But she only smiles.

I watch her walk off, feeling a little like the fly fisherman whod lost the prize winning Tahoe tiger after a long fight. But, like I said before, young girls dont even see us old guys really. Not like they used to thirty or forty years ago. Nowadays were, 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, its 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.

;-)

On Saturday, June 3, 2017 at 7:13:27 AM UTC-7, Colonel Edmund J. Burke wrote:
I enjoy my shopping experience at my local Food-4-Less, which is sometimes like a whirl through a Sunday Walmart. Im 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 ****es 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 shes headed in my direction. Shes 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, shes got a standalone face, the kind makeup wont 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 Im feeling a little nervous. "Hope you have a happy holiday, or whats left of it" I say. For a moment it seems like shes almost disappointed. But she only smiles.

I watch her walk off, feeling a little like the fly fisherman whod lost the prize winning Tahoe tiger after a long fight. But, like I said before, young girls dont even see us old guys really. Not like they used to thirty or forty years ago. Nowadays were, 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, its 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.

;-)

x