The meaning of life on a fall night

1 Nov

Professor Fred Moran peered into the darkness of the woods. The rustling sound from deep in the forest had faded.
“Hell-o-o-o-o … ” he yelled rather tentatively.
“Forget it Fred. The bear is gone.”
“Bear? Who said anything about a bear?” Moran lowered his trusty cane, Misty Blue and came back to the campfire where Ritter and Reuther were huddled, their faces aglow from the flames.
“I suppose the Penumbra State Spy Network is out there again,” Reuther said.
“Yeah,” chortled Ritter. “Out to track down Fred and his stolen manuscripts.”
“Real cloak and dagger dangerous missions,” laughed Reuther
Moran took two steps forward and pointed a finger at them. “Now that’s enough right there.”
“Aw lighten up Fred,” Reuther said. “The days of cold war literary espionage are gone.”
“Quite right,” said Ritter, pulling out his pipe and his pouch of tobacco. “They want to steal your stuff they go online.”
Moran looked deflated. He shuffled off toward the fire and slumped to the pile of rocks he’d fashioned earlier that evening as a seat. “Alas. Who cares about my stuff anyway? I’m a hack.”
“Er … now wait a minute,” said Ritter, taking a long drag on his pipe as he studied his old mentor. “That piece you wrote earlier this year on Annie Klondike. Top notch, I thought.”
“Right,” added Reuther. “I mean … the sexual tension was not only erotic, but clearly showed the underpinnings of fading youth.”
Moran nodded his head. “It certainly was one of my favorite sections of the book.”
“Buck up Fred. You still have it.”
“Even if your powers of sexual virility have faded,” added Reuther.
Moran looked from Ritter to Reuther. He emitted a long sigh and peered skyward. “What the hell are we doing here anyway?”
“Camping,” shrugged Reuther. “What else?”
“No I mean … What are we doing?”
Ritter took a long pull on his pipe and studied Moran.
“Sometimes I think life is just one long masturbation,” Moran said.
“Mmmmm …” mused Ritter as he took another long pull on his pipe.
“Just might be at that,” said Reuther.
The three of them stared at the dancing flames of the fire. A soft wind shook the bare limbs of the trees on this late October evening.
“You’ve certainly given us something to think about Fred,” said Ritter.

Sex isn’t everything

31 Oct

mreuther

Professor Fred Moran and Jon Ritter stared into the canyon rapids of the Roaring Fork. It was a fine October day in the Rockies, and Ritter, at least, was hell-bent on enjoying the final days of warm weather before the snows came.
“Thing is,” said Ritter, snapping a twig and tossing it onto the small stream-side fire, “I think a trip to Alaska next summer is on my itinerary.”
“Righto,” said Moran, stabbing at the flames with his cane, Misty Blue before pirouetting and making another stab at the flames. “I hear there’s a fine fencing club up in the Yukon.”
“Fencing?” Ritter shook his head at such an absurd notion. “You’re lucky if you find any such organizations up that way.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Moran, stopping to peer into the fire. He smiled and emitted a deep breath. “I’ll find something to keep me busy up there. Life is…

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Sex isn’t everything

31 Oct

Professor Fred Moran and Jon Ritter stared into the canyon rapids of the Roaring Fork. It was a fine October day in the Rockies, and Ritter, at least, was hell-bent on enjoying the final days of wa…

Source: Sex isn’t everything

Sex isn’t everything

31 Oct

Professor Fred Moran and Jon Ritter stared into the canyon rapids of the Roaring Fork. It was a fine October day in the Rockies, and Ritter, at least, was hell-bent on enjoying the final days of warm weather before the snows came.
“Thing is,” said Ritter, snapping a twig and tossing it onto the small stream-side fire, “I think a trip to Alaska next summer is on my itinerary.”
“Righto,” said Moran, stabbing at the flames with his cane, Misty Blue before pirouetting and making another stab at the flames. “I hear there’s a fine fencing club up in the Yukon.”
“Fencing?” Ritter shook his head at such an absurd notion. “You’re lucky if you find any such organizations up that way.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Moran, stopping to peer into the fire. He smiled and emitted a deep breath. “I’ll find something to keep me busy up there. Life is good.”
Ritter stared at Moran. Lately, the old bird had been in fine fettle, and Ritter couldn’t quite figure out why.
“What is it with you lately?”
“I’m sorry,” said Moran, appearing obviously perplexed.
“I mean. Hell benders. You’ve been as happy as a dog with two peters of late.”
Moran grinned. “Well now. I wouldn’t put it quite that way.  But yes, I have been rather happy of late. Even jubilant, if I may say.”
“So what is it?”
“Ah … just a girl. And a fine girl at that.”
“Right. Some grad student you’ve lured into your orbit through bribery? What is it this time? The promise of an assistant ship to tide a young lass through the cruel winter months.” Ritter shook his head. “You know, you’re going to get in trouble with this nonsense one of these days,” he added, pointing a finger at Moran.
“Jon. Jon. Nothing of the sort. I dare say. I’ve met a fine woman. A mature woman, of fine breeding, intellect and may I say, an incredible sense of humor.”
“A smart woman with a sense of humor? Those have never been your prerequisites for sex. And maturity? Don’t make me gag.”
Just then, there was the sound of heavy hoofs thundering up the mountain.
“Sounds like a horse,” Ritter said.
“Indeed,” Moran said with a grin.
It was a horse, with a beautiful woman  astride the creature. She had long flowing blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and a smile that hinted of hidden desires.
“Marquette.” shrieked Moran.
“Marquette?” said Ritter, looking from the lovely gal to Moran and back at her.
“Come Fred,” she said, in a soft voice. “I’ve rented the room, and I have the
Viagra.”
Without a word, Moran sprinted for the horse. With his hands planted firmly on the stallion’s back side, he vaulted himself upon it. Never before had Ritter seen such athleticism from his old mentor. The horse raised itself on its hind legs before taking off down the mountain.
“I’ve seen everything,” Ritter said.
“Talking to yourself again, I see.”
“Whaaa …”
There, on the other side of the fire, a cocksure grin creasing his face, was Reuther in a baseball uniform.
“Reuther. What … What in the name of God are you doing here?”
“Just got done playing a doubleheader down Durango way.” Reuther picked up a stick and poked at the flames. “What’s all the ruckus about? I thought I heard thundering hooves.”
“You did,” said Ritter, allowing himself to fall in a slump to the ground. Ritter stared at the flames.
“Why so glum old chum?”
“Freakin’ Moran. He just rode off on a freakin’ horse with the most dazzling woman I’ve ever seen.”
“I see,” Reuther said, spearing a hot dog with his stick and holding it over the flames. “And it’s killing you?”
“I’ll admit. It really is.”
“Take heart Sodbuster. So he gets a gorgeous woman.”
“But … but she was … incredible, voluptuous, dazzling …”
“Tut tut,” said Reuther. “Doesn’t matter.”
“But that should be me. I mean … I’m … better than him.”
“Oh for the love of Pete Jon. Look around you. Look out that way, at those mountain peaks. Just listen to the wind blowing through the pines. Take in the sounds of the Roaring Fork … and this great campsite and this fire.”
“Ah … yeah. Guess you’re right.”
Ritter stared at the dancing flames. Shit. Reuther was right.
“It’s the little things in life Jon. Remember that.”

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4 Aug

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23 Apr

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