W Is For Who Am I?

A rakish old man is staggering down the road with a greater degree of frequency than he cares to admit. A plethora of pedestrians and bicyclists conspire together to make him dive into a gully so as to avoid getting hit. One dozen times the pedestrians and bicyclists ride and ride through his space and one dozen times the rakish old man successfully dodges the bullet.

However, on the 13th try a bicyclist succeeds in striking the man with her rear tire as she fishtails to a stop. The force of the impact sends the rakish old man flying through the air with the greatest of ease, where he promptly and perfectly executes a four point spread eagle landing face first on the concrete.

The bicyclist checks her tire for damage, frowns, then hops off the bike. Taking off her helmet, she fluffs and splays her hair for a minute or so, before casually walking over to where the rakish old man was laying. By the time she gets there, the rakish old man was in pretty sorry state of affairs, as the time that it had taken her to hop off the bike and walk over to him (and causing multiple guys and dolls to drop their collective jaws in the process), the rakish old man had been struck by three more pedestrians and a moped.

She kneels down next to him and says, "Look at what you did to my bicycle! Who do you think you are damaging my tire like that?"

The rakish old man slowly raises his head. As he did, his bones emit a sickly crunching sound that makes the young lady gag in disgust.

"I am...one of the best writers and bloggers out there today. People far and wide eagerly away what my muse eloquently states. I have no equal and no peer. I am a deity among the little people. I am the best that ever was, the best that ever is and that best that ever will be!"

The rakish old man began coughing and spitting up blood. The young lady drops the man and says, "Ewwww...you just got icky blood all over me! How dare you do that to my clothes!"

"Please...I beg of you! Have mercy!" sputters the old man.
"Why should I have mercy for you?" says the young lady as she takes out an emory board to fix a broken nail.
"I told you...I'm a well known writer and blogger! Please, have mercy!"
"Got a name?"
"G.B. Miller," sputters the rakish old man.
"You!" screams the young lady.
"Me?"
"No mercy for you!"

The young lady jumps on top of the old man and devours him from head to toe. In less than three minutes, the only thing that remained of G.B. Miller was a dark red spot on the pavement.

The young lady finishes licking her fingers and walks back to her bicycle. As she hops on, she says, "Hmmmm....always wondered what my creator would taste like."

(c) 2014 by G.B. Miller. All Rights Reserved.