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Created on: August 24, 2008
I recall vividly the first time I fell in love. I remember it well as it's not something I'm soon likely to forget. Oh, and she was a peach! A real pretty girl. I don't recall exactly what she looked like, but I'm sure it was right nice. I met her in my 11th grade French class. Since I'd clearly mastered the English language, I figured I'd have no trouble learning the less inferior French lingo. (I parle vous francais real good now.)
Her name was Louise, but folks called her Bea Aitch for some reason. First time I saw her, I knew I loved her. She was so sweet and nice and lady-like. And, she had the cutest tatoo on her right arm that let everyone know how fond she was of dogs...female dogs, specifically. It was the word "B*TCH" in big, bold letters. I expect she must've been a member of PETA or something.
She sat right in front of me and I'd spend most the class gazing lovingly at the back of her bald head trying to think of something clever to say that would make her love me back. Well, this went on for quite a spell until finally one day I couldn't take it anymore. I walked staright up to her and I said, "Bea...I mean, Louise...it would be my pleasure to have you escort me on a date on the town." Well, she seemed pretty excited, let me tell you. In fact, she was so happy that she laughed out loud. For five minutes straight! For a moment, I thought I might have something stuck on my forehead. (I didn't.) Well, my confidence was pretty high at that point and I said to her, "Louise, I am quite pleased at your reaction. Now then, at what time shall we commence to dating?"
At that moment, as women are prone to do, she changed her tactic and started playing hard to get. At which she proved to be exceedingly adept. She told me to go the Burning Inferno down below, which I thought was some underground discoteque that all the kids talk about. So, I said, "I'd love to go with you." Then we set a date, which unfortunately has not yet arrived. At least not to my knowledge. I reckon' I should check to see if that disco place has frozen over yet.
Anyway, Louise and I never did go out, but I know in my heart she and I would always be in love. And, from time to time, I still see her helping pick up trash from the side of the road. I told you she was sweet. I think she's part of a club or something 'cause they all wear the same orange jumpsuits. I don't know why they're all handcuffed, though. That don't seem right.
Louise, if you've learned how to read by now and you see this, give me a call. I need to know what kind of clothes to wear when we go out.
Learn more about this author, Doug Burrell.
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