My first time guys, don't be too hard. ;)
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The finger of Wan Pablo traced small circles around the knuckles of Rebecca's left hand. The two sat together, perched on bench overlooking over a white sandy beach and ocean. As Wan Pablo's finger traced its way up her arm, a cool breeze swept over the two. With violent spasms, the girl's body convulsed in a shutter.
"Hey there."
Wan Pablo's words fell from his mouth softly, enveloping Rebecca with radiant warmth. Oh wait, no. That was his muscular arm. His tan, muscular arm. His loving, muscular arm; making its way up to her shoulders. With a sudden movement, Wan Pablo pulled the girl to his chest, protecting her from the cold. From the demons. From the menaces of everyday life. He peered down into her bright blue eyes. Into her innocent soul. And whispered those three words that every girl dreams of hearing:
"Wanna fuck?"
Rebecca's mouth fell agape with astonishment. This setting was so perfect. This man was so perfect. This television "reality" show was so perfect. This bitch had given her rose after rose... empirical evidence of his commitment and undying love. How could he now, that fool, change everything with those Three. Stupid. Words? Her soul in turmoil, Rebecca jumped in the metaphorical fishing boat, motored out into deep water where she knew the best spots where, baited her hook, and began fishing for a response.
"Ummmm. We should probably hold hands first."
The excitement drained from Wan Pablo's face like coffee down a garbage disposal.
"But ummm. Maybe after?"
Wan Pablo sighed. A deep sigh. A regretful sigh. For he knew that he had made a grave mistake. He had gone for it, and failed. Shot and missed. Skipped and fallen. Jumped and exploded. With nothing left of his dignity except for an amazingly attractive and muscular body, Wan Pablo resorted to his last possible defense. His only hope.
"I'm sorry."
Once again, the chocolaty words erupted from his mouth like diarrhea from a butt hole.
"It's okay." Rebecca replied. "I know that you love me. I know that we have only known each other for the past two weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. I'm ready to commit to you. Be yours. To be there for you night and day. To prepare your sandwiches, and open your beer on command. For I am a woman, and these are all womanly things.”
"Don't forget blow jobs on command." Wan Pablo chimed, flicking a bit of dirt from his finger nail.
“Yes, and blow jobs on command. The fifth tenant of a successful marriage.” Rebecca's words echoed the age old wisdom put forth by Wan Pablo. Her love for him grew, just as she imagined that his huge, throbbing, blood engorged kindness grew for her day after day.
"But what about that bitch Bessie?" Rebecca inquired.
Bessie. The one remaining contestant on "Da Bachelor House". The sole obstacle standing between Rebecca and her picture perfect reality show ending. Bessie had to be dealt with. Preferably in a manner involving an iron shovel and a shallow grave. Being the only remaining woman on the show, all of Rebecca's catty hatred was focused in one place; like converging sun beams, uniting through a magnifying glass to fry an ant alive. Looking up into the face of Wan Pablo, a face sculpted by the gods, Rebecca batted her eyes twice, and gazed longingly. Wan Pablo understood.
"Oh, that trick? Don't worry hon. I'll dump that bitch good."
"Promise me that you'll break her heart." Rebecca cooed, her eyes melting Wan Pablo's ice cream soul.
"I promise."
Sweeter words could not have flown from Wan Pablo's mouth. His sentences, nectar of the gods. With more sugar and high fructose corn syrup than store brand cola.
"In fact, I will go dump that hoe right now."
Wan Pablo stood up briskly, his trench coat flowing in the wind. He looked all sexy like, like a dramatic shot from the movies. And with the same determination that he used to lift himself to his feet, Wan Pablo strode down the hill, the beach and his love to his back, to do what needed to be done.
Rebecca exhaled with an audible sigh. Her hands caressed the polished oak bench as her gaze drifted out to the midnight waves caressing the tip of the beach's surface. Back and forth the waves stroked the beach. Back and forth. Back and forth. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.
At the bottom of the hill, Wan Pablo saw what he must do. One hundred yards before him in a field stood Bessie. She was naked, donning only a bell necklace, her body catching Wan Pablo’s gaze. Her beauty paralyzing him only momentarily, our hero strode out to the female. Tonight was a night of madness and mischief. Of murder and mayhem. The witching hour. The twilight zone. The perfect chronological period for hearts to be broken. And though his own heart beat because of electrical impulses, and metaphorically beat for Rebecca, seeing the wind ripple through Bessie's hair brought forth the slightest twinge of regret. A strong and independent female, Bessie's softspokeness and soft brown eyes would be missed. Wan Pablo swallowed his larynx, knowing what he had to do.
"Well Bessie," our hero began, "This is it. You stayed in this show for ten weeks. Hell, you even beat out most of the girls. But I can only have one cow in my life, and I’ve chosen Rebecca.”
Bessie just stared back, her eyes gleaming in the moon light. Her head bowed low to the ground.
"So, let’s not make a big deal about this. I’m just gonna go.”
Bessie, again, just stared back, as cows do.
“Fine! We’ll have sex one more time!” Wan Pablo exclaimed, exasperated.
And copulate they did under the light of the moon. Man and cow, as it was meant to be.
Thirty five seconds later, Wan Pablo found himself trekking up the hill again to meet his love. He sat down next to his princess, and she nuzzled in closely to him.
“You dumped that bitch?” Rebecca asked delicately.
“Yes,” Wan Pablo replied.
And they lived happily ever after.
Except for Rebecca who died of sexually transmitted Cow Flu two days later.
The End.
