Dating : When the Bum Sings

Collaborative Winner!

“Little Chucky, Chucky won’t. . .go home.”

In collaboration with Holly Jahangiri. Part One is “Chaws” The Beat Poet by Charles Roast; Part Two is The Performance Artist by Holly Jahangiri; Part Three is Poetic Moments in the Betrayal of “Chaws”, by Charles Roast; Part Four is Hey, Electrical Banana, Stay Down by Holly Jahangiri. This is Part Five.

Wearing black and hiding in the shadows . . .what has become of me, the Great Charles Roast?

I settle into my seat deep in the shadow and get comfortable as Willy waddles over to Nicci. Nicci loves Willy as much as I do, but I think he likes her more than me. I think it’s because she has boobs. But he likes the idea of us together again even more. He’s even more of a hopeless romantic than I am.

He plays his role well. Look at that, he even accepted her offer of more money than I gave him.

I see Nicci hold up her thumb and finger only an inch or so apart and hear Willy laugh. Yeah, real funny. He didn’t need to laugh that hard. And who is she kidding? She knows the truth. Size twelve feet don’t lie, at least in my case.

Headlights flash over my hiding spot, but move on quickly. I move back anyway, reflexively. It’s the van the “Back Hurts Boys” use to move the equipment.

Willy quickly ducks back down the alley. He doesn’t like “Alice aka Herman Munster” any more than I do.

As he passes me I hear him singing softly, “Little Chucky, Chucky won’t, go home, cause you can’t make Chucky go when Nicci’s around,” to the tune of Little Willy by Sweet.

“Piss off, ” I whisper, trying not to laugh. Willy pretends to scratch his cheek with his middle finger and flips me off for the second time that night. Still not the record, though.

I watch as the van pulls over. Nicci’s still staring at the corner Willy just turned, which happens to be right near the shadow I am hiding in.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. . .please don’t see me!” I whisper frantically to myself. I merge with the wall behind me and close my eyes, thinking for a moment if I can’t see her she can’t see me. Dummy! You’re not 3 years old!

I open my eyes just in time to see “Alice the Girlfriend Stealer” get out of the van and walk over to Nicci. She puts her arm over Nicci likes she owns her and gives her a kiss only lovers share. Nicci doesn’t move. Nicci doesn’t like to be owned. Bad for “Alice the Stupid Head,” good for Chuck.

I listen for a minute. I laugh softly. Of course Nicci talked to “Alice of the Rotten Crotch” about me. I know Nicci well enough to know she couldn’t not talk about me. I am, however, a little disappointed she thinks I wouldn’t think that. I thought she knew me better. Shit. Guess I’m a better actor than I give myself credit for. . . maybe too good for my own good.

Okay. That’s enough for tonight. Things are going better than I thought. And I’ve seen that look in Nicci’s eyes before.

She’s thinking about “electrical bananas.” She’s thinking about seeing Chuck naked again. She’s certainly not thinking of “Alice the Dirty Butthole.”

Electrical fruit
Not satisfying like Chuck:
Come home soon, baby.

I snap my fingers once. The crowd goes wild!

Chuck Roast is a humorist (“humourist” for those of you who like the “incorrect” spelling)for the publication Illumination, a Top Writer in Satire and Humor, and owner/editor/writer of his own Publication, Dad-Bods, which is currently sitting idle while he develops his social media skills and gains more exposure through manipulation of said social media. Here are the links to his accounts, LinkedIn, Twitter. Comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading. Write On!