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The Billboard Siren

by Michael Lawrence

She was a beauty with those puffy lips, those soft eyes, and those yellow locks (although I could tell she wasn't a natural blonde because I could see hints of a brunette in her complexion). Every time I drive through that area, just past the intersection of Maple and 30th, I slow down my automobile, and peer into her foot-long eyeballs letting them hypnotize me until the driver in back of me has an aneurysm from honking that horn so much. I was thinking about leaving my girlfriend for her, but I just can't announce to her that I chose a woman on a billboard over her.

I approached the billboard once again today and let those eyes penetrate once again into mine when my path of forward-movement was suddenly brought to a halt. Apparently, some dude wanted to make a left hand turn while this sultry siren had me firmly in her grasp. And I certainly couldn't be expected to pay enough attention to notice that he had stopped. The front end of my car was steaming, and as I studied her face, the hot water vapors billowing past her head made her look even more appealing to me. But there was something wrong ... shouldn't her hair straighten out from all the moisture? I knew that the guy whose car I just totaled was hopping up and down on the pavement like a rat that had just stubbed its big toe, but I didn't care so much about him. I studied her face even further and noticed something on her that I hadn't before a little smirk on her left (my right) cheek. Yes it was there indeed and I knew that it had been there from the very start. It struck me funny that I hadn't noticed it there before. Then that screaming man obstructed my view of the billboard.

"You *bleepin'* crashed into me, you *bleepin'* moron!" screamed this guy, who I then discovered was bald and had an extremely bad comb-over. "You better have insurance, buddy, and a damn good lawyer! I'll sue you up your ass!" Deciding to retaliate, I squinted my eyes and opened the door to step out. I left the door wide open and put my arms on top of the hood.

"I work at a convenience store!" I retaliated. "All I got in the world is fifty dollars and a totaled car thanks to you!" The man stepped back, looking like his heart skipped a couple beats after having swallowed a whole orange.

"Thanks to *ME?!*" he yelled appearing like he was having trouble enunciating that last word. "You're the one that wasn't paying attention! You *blankin'* rear-ended me, you idiot!"

"Haven't you ever heard of a turn signal?!" I screamed back. "How was I supposed to know you were going to stop?"

"What?!" he screamed, face purple. His comb-over was really out of place now. "I DID put on my turn signal, twerp!"

"Well, apparently not!" I yelled. "It doesn't appear to be on now!"

"That's because you smashed it up, you twerp!"


Later that afternoon, as I sat alone on a cold metal bench in the police station's jail cell after having said a couple of things to a police officer that I shouldn't have (mostly involving jelly-filled doughnuts), I was visited by an entirely unexpected guest.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked me. I looked at her and couldn't believe it. It was that blonde woman on the billboard in the very flesh. She was wearing sort of a puffy 50's-looking prom dress.

"No," I said, mouth hanging open. "Go right ahead." She sat next to me, leaving only an inch between us. At first we didn't look at each other, but I soon had to give in, and when I did, so did she.

"You know, I've noticed you," she said to me. My eyebrows shot up and my chin lowered in sheer unbelief.

"You've noticed me?!" I asked sounding skeptical of her words. "Why?"

"I find you interesting," she said. She bashfully turned her eyes away from mine and looked at her knees.

"Do you know the trouble you caused me?" I asked her almost casually. "My car getting smashed up ... me sitting here in jail ... a balding maniac after my life savings?"

"Yes, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Oh well, it's not your fault" I said. I smiled and added: "At least we have each other now." She grinned and took my hand. I squeezed hers tightly.

"Dang," she said. "It's really a shame that I don't exist."

"Oh well," I said. "I can't have everything." She sat with me in that jail cell for the rest of the night.

This sucky story is copyrighted by Michael Lawrence. (It is quite sucky.) But I publish it anyway. Who knows why.