Jumpin' Jack Flasher
I was watching the news on television a few days ago, and there was a report that the local police had arrested a flasher.
Now, I have had many indiscretions in my life, but I must admit I have never "flashed" anyone. The idea does, however, seem intriguing. What a great attention-grabber.
Hey, who doesn't need a little attention from time to time? To be perfectly honest, my attention quota has gone from little to almost none in the last few months. I think it's high time I got a bit of the spotlight too.
First things first. I'll need a trench coat. You see I have never really had a need for a trench coat. After all, I was never a British secret agent, nor was I one of those smarmy detectives in an American film noir, à la Humphrey Bogart. I really don't want to spend a small fortune on a trench coat, since I suspect this escapade will be a one-time affair. I'm sure I can find one at the Salvation Army Outlet Mall, or if push comes to shove, on Ebay.
Once I have my slightly ratty coat, I think I'll be all set. I mean I won't need any other clothes to speak of. Socks and running shoes, I guess, and maybe a fedora. Those I have.
Of course, I'll also need a plan. A flasher always has a target of some sort. Let me assure you that I do not intend on flashing anyone under the age of 18. No, my escapade will be strictly R-rated, if not XXX-rated. So no kids, and now that I'm thinking of it, no Millennials, since most young people under the age of 40 never look up from their smart phones. So, what would be the point?
As for a locale, I think I'll hit a nearby mall, probably sometime in the late morning, when there's an older crowd of people sitting around chatting about the weather and the soaring price of cat food.
Part of being a great flasher is obviously the element of surprise. They'll think that I am just like them, wandering aimlessly from shop to shop, without even close to enough cash or credit to be able to afford to buy much of anything. And, then, I'll strike, like a coiled cobra. OK, maybe not a cobra. Maybe a slippery garden snake.
If there's a group of blue-haired, lilac-scented women sitting by the fake palm trees, well that would be perfect. I wonder how they will react? Shocked? Disgusted? Aroused? Man, who can say? It sounds so exciting that I can barely wait to whip open my coat and let it all hang out.
Of course, with my luck, it'll be a chilly day, and some wag of a woman will take one glance at me, adjust her bifocals, and simply say, "If you're looking for the Lost and Found, it's at the other end of the mall."
I was watching the news on television a few days ago, and there was a report that the local police had arrested a flasher.
Now, I have had many indiscretions in my life, but I must admit I have never "flashed" anyone. The idea does, however, seem intriguing. What a great attention-grabber.
Hey, who doesn't need a little attention from time to time? To be perfectly honest, my attention quota has gone from little to almost none in the last few months. I think it's high time I got a bit of the spotlight too.
First things first. I'll need a trench coat. You see I have never really had a need for a trench coat. After all, I was never a British secret agent, nor was I one of those smarmy detectives in an American film noir, à la Humphrey Bogart. I really don't want to spend a small fortune on a trench coat, since I suspect this escapade will be a one-time affair. I'm sure I can find one at the Salvation Army Outlet Mall, or if push comes to shove, on Ebay.
Once I have my slightly ratty coat, I think I'll be all set. I mean I won't need any other clothes to speak of. Socks and running shoes, I guess, and maybe a fedora. Those I have.
Of course, I'll also need a plan. A flasher always has a target of some sort. Let me assure you that I do not intend on flashing anyone under the age of 18. No, my escapade will be strictly R-rated, if not XXX-rated. So no kids, and now that I'm thinking of it, no Millennials, since most young people under the age of 40 never look up from their smart phones. So, what would be the point?
As for a locale, I think I'll hit a nearby mall, probably sometime in the late morning, when there's an older crowd of people sitting around chatting about the weather and the soaring price of cat food.
Part of being a great flasher is obviously the element of surprise. They'll think that I am just like them, wandering aimlessly from shop to shop, without even close to enough cash or credit to be able to afford to buy much of anything. And, then, I'll strike, like a coiled cobra. OK, maybe not a cobra. Maybe a slippery garden snake.
If there's a group of blue-haired, lilac-scented women sitting by the fake palm trees, well that would be perfect. I wonder how they will react? Shocked? Disgusted? Aroused? Man, who can say? It sounds so exciting that I can barely wait to whip open my coat and let it all hang out.
Of course, with my luck, it'll be a chilly day, and some wag of a woman will take one glance at me, adjust her bifocals, and simply say, "If you're looking for the Lost and Found, it's at the other end of the mall."
