Historic moments in time

The wolf-whistle echoed down the cavernous city street. Leaning even further over the balcony, Reba and her compatriots could only stare, mesmerised as he strutted with a basketballers grace down footpath.

“He will be mine.” she murmured “Oh yes, he will be mine”.

Minutes later she was keeping pace with him on the opposite side of the street. Dodging errant pedestrians and sidestepping loitering granmammas all while ensuring he never left her peripheral vision. It would not have been hard to keep in him sight in any case. His smooth leather loafers had an elegance rarely seen in the city in these modern times. The checks on his casual workwear were flamboyantly eye-catching yet deceptively subtle. Above all, both figurately and physically, his follicular hue left a reflective and memorable impression.

At an opportune moment, Reba ran into the street, ducked between a beige corona and a Hawkesford coach, and used all her play watching experience to act out a dramatic trip across the gutter right in the path of his next step. As predicted, his athletic past (and occasionally present) had fine tuned his reflexes until they were almost instinctive. The hours he had spent walking on rain-slicked poles meant that he sensed her distress before her saw her fall. He bent down on one knee to catch her in a loving, cradling motion.

As she gazed up into his opaline eyes it was like looking into a mirror of emotion. She cursed her luck when he shattered the mirror by whispering in a deep baritone “You’re a real looker darlin’ and I’m gonna take you back to my city ranch for a right good rodeo.”
No matter, Reba mused, with time I can beat the country out of him. If there’s one thing Australia says yes to it’s a pussywhipped husband.

And so it was that young Hammer was ensnared by the daring and determined Reba.

Lo and behold, within a few long weeks Hammer was a transformed man. Under the careful tutelage of the loving Reba he had become learned, well read, appropriately witty and the very model of a modern inner-city gentleman. On top of this, like an unbridled macro-organism, his passion for Reba continued to multiply with each passing nanosecond.

Approximately the length of a pregnancy later, this joyful paring produced offspring. It was a wonderful kicking, screaming, red faced bundle of love that reminded them both of the nature of humankind and the magnificence of intelligent design.

Morphed into Daddy Hammertime, Hamish became a changed man again. Defying the age old falsehood that people have a carrying capacity for love, he was able to give the type of affection to the fruit of his loins that many people-spawn can only dream of. Despite this generosity of emotion, his passion for his one and only lady also experienced an upward surge and the trio became an even more tight knit domestic unit than the pre-existing duo.

Now, most mornings at 4:24 Reba wakes up to the sounds of infantile love. While cradling their love child, she reminiscences on that fateful, lust-filled day. Her thoughts go to gawking at man-meat from an office balcony and the desperate pursuit of passion through the streets. She usually gets to bed at 5:13, contentedly snuggling up to her man while the healthy snores of their daughter wash her mind with waves of an easy slumber.


Moral:
If you’ve got it, work it
If you want it, chase it
When you’ve got it, cherish it.

Comments

Hammertime said…
wow, wow wow. i am speechless, but not typed wordless. and so, from arrogant beginnings emerges a humble and insanely powerful writer, the likes of which this planet has never seen before. thank you for that, it's really awesome.

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