Sunday, April 24, 2016

Feels So Nice

  The days ticked by. April had neared its conclusion. Where the hell was it all headed? The Van Man had his own idea. But shit happens and he needed a new pair of work jeans. His current pair had holes in the knees and ass. The Teamsters did not approve.
  New was a relative term. For some, it meant shopping at Target. For a Van Man, it meant perusing a thrift store. And if one was at a second hand shop in North Hollywood, one was most certain to spot the most interesting of humans. An unusual, bearded man sauntered up and down the aisles. Van Man skimmed through the jeans rack. But it was hard for him to ignore the bearded man with long, dirty-blonde hair. The strange, hairy man wore eye glasses and a white prom dress with black slippers. He posed and preened in front of a large floor mirror at the front of the store. Van Man found two pairs of jeans and watched The Prom Queen wander back towards the women's section, rolling a basket of items behind him.
  Van Man waited for the clerk to unlock the dressing stall door. An early Madonna hit played loud throughout the store. And Van Man waited, impatiently patient. A gentleman in one of the stalls sang along, "It feeeels sooo niiice!"
  Inside the dressing stall, Van Man hung up the jeans and realized he had not worn underwear. He never did. He was faced with an unpleasant choice: purchase the clothing without trying them on or put the unwashed bottoms onto his bare privates. On one hand, the pants might not fit. On the other, microscopic diseases might jump off the jeans and crawl into his penis and ass holes. Van Man did not know much about bacteria. But he did know if he was going to spend money, it better be on some tight fitting, Levi's five-o-one blues. "Feeeels sooo niiice!", sang the Gentleman in the next stall. Those were the wrong lyrics, but what was Van Man going to do about it?
  Van Man unbuttoned his jeans and slipped them off around his ankles. He looked at his reflection in the dirty, stained mirror. Hoped there ain't no cameras behind it, thought Van Man as he gyrated his pelvis back and forth. He managed a quick helicopter, smiled and slid on the first pair of jeans. That'll show 'em, he thought. And the Gentleman sang. "Feeeels sooo niiice!"
  Van Man had finished and was happy with both pairs. Outside the dressing stall, the Gentleman was long gone and Madonna had been quieted. Prince had taken over the airwaves for a most tragic reason and Van Man walked to the counter for purchase.
  Van Man sat in the van and cranked the engine. He was on his way to find a crooked smog test facility. The kind of place that would pass a polluting vehicle for the right amount of dinero. May was close and The Van Man needed to get legal. The Prom Queen rambled by. He just needed to be left alone.




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