A man is in line at Starbucks. He notices the very nicely dressed, professional-looking woman in front of him. Her clothes are impeccable…except for the tag of her blouse. It’s sticking up like a flag.
What happens next?
12 thoughts on “Reader Friday: What Happens Next?”
He checks his own shirt for sticking out tag. And does it many times during that day.
You haven’t made me care enough about the man to care about what happens nxt! (Just kidding.)
Good exercise.
He taps her on the shoulder and tells her about it…
He grabs it and rips it off…
He loves the blouse and wants one for himself…
He’s OCD and can’t stand to see it so he leaves…
I could go on, but, damn you! I have to get some work done.
“Excuse me.” He felt uncomfortable whispering in her ear. He didn’t want to cause her additional embarrassment, but when she turned a gorgeous pair of sea-green eyes on him, he nearly drowned and forgot what he was going to tell her.
His hand reaches out to tuck the tag back under her shirt, but then he recognizes the tilt of her head and the tiny mole peeking out from under the collar. If he had a ‘Kick Me’ sign he’d staple it to that stupid tag and make Susan a laughing stock of the coffee shop. She deserved so much more.
The man: “Excuse me miss, but the tag along…”
The woman: (interrupts with a wink and a smile) “I wish you would “
I hate Starbucks, wouldn’t know, but true story.
I’m in Dunkin Donuts standing in line behind an extremely attractive woman. I look down to see what appears to be a piece of lint near the waist of her pants. I tapped her arm, said excuse me, but there’s a piece of lint on the back of your pants. Do you want me to get it off. She said yes. I pulled.
The suspected lint was actually the folded over tag of her panties which I pulled. She replied, “that’s my panties.” I stopped, she received her order and left the building giving me a wide and happy smile
He looks at the tag for a while, mostly out of boredom, until it occurs to him to let the woman know that it’s sticking out.
“Excuse me,” he says.
No response.
He taps her on the shoulder, and she vanishes — poof! — she’s gone.
He jumps back, bumps into the person behind him, who advises him to watch it.
He looks around, puzzled. No else seems to have noticed that a woman just dematerialized.
He’s about to leave Starbucks when he notices the tag on the floor. He picks it up, noticing now the unusual sequence of numbers and letters.
He politely says to her back, “Excuse me, Miss, but you have a . . .”
With that, she turns around and he sees she has dollars signs for eyes and an ATM machine slot in place of her mouth. Mama had always told him to avoid women like that.
“very nice blouse,” he finished and left without ordering.
The staff behind the counter had music going. At least Colin assumed it was some kind of music, because there was a definite beat to it and the girl making the drinks was bobbing her head in a sort of matching rhythm to the noise. At least Colin assumed it was a girl. While the general upper body shape hinted at femininity the sheer number of pins, spikes and stainless steel hoops decoratively skewering her whole face tattoo made it hard to verify the species, let alone, sexual identity of the being as it slammed each cup of latte through.
The woman in front of him in line on the other hand was definitely female. Female of the kind that as far as he knew no surgeon of any skill level could imitate with modern technology. The muscles that he sensed beneath the fabric of her fitted blouse indicated a level of fitness that had him guessing she was a lawyer or high power business woman who was also a Pilates adherent. When the line took several steps forward though, the hypnotic motion of her curves had him thinking Zumba instructor.
As they stood waiting, half a dozen coffee addicts in front of them still she twisted her neck as if to stretch out a kink, then grabbed the lustrous black hair that hung like silk across her neck and bunched it into a pony tail she tied in place with a hair scrunchy. Once her hair was off her neck Colin was shocked to see an inch square piece of bright white fabric jutting proudly up from her blouse. He blushed as he had seen her private nakedness unexpectedly revealed. The tag stood out in defiance, boldly contrasting itself against her tanned skin, proclaiming in a loud voice, “Even a goddess must suffer the embarrassment of the tag!”
“Erm, Scuse me miss,” Colin said in a low whisper.
The woman didn’t react. The music was too loud.
He raised the volume and repeated, “Miss?”
The beat of the music swelled just as he spoke, drowning out his words.
He called out even louder, “MISS!”
Absolute silence descended over the room. The music had abruptly stopped.
Every eye turned on him, including the woman with the tag. She raised an eyebrow.
“Yes?”
Colin pointed feebly at her.
“Your, uh,”
“Yes?” She put her hand to where he pointed, felt the tag.
“Your tag is showing.”
She pushed it back down into her blouse. A demure smile glowed toward him that sent a swarm of butterflies on a rampage through his stomach.
The metally faced, spiky person behind the counter let out a sigh.
“How come no one ever looks at me like that?” It said.
I know, a day late but…
He politely clears his throat and says, “Excuse me.”
She turns, saying, “Yes?”
He says, “You have a tag sticking up at the yoFor today’s prompt, write a seasonal poem.
This should be a snap for haiku poets; after all, inserting seasonal words is a rule for the form.
However, you don’t have to write haiku to write a poem that references or happens in one of the four seasons: Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter.
Pick a season or include them all
******
As before~ see this and more poetry prompts, interviews, forms, and what no at the back of your blouse.”
She says, “Yes, and a gun under my jacket pointed at your chest. Shall we leave?”
Daggum cut-npaste… & small “smart” phone screen…
Lemme edit and try again…
He politely clears his throat and says, “Excuse me.”
She turns, saying, “Yes?”
He says, “You have a tag sticking up at the back of your blouse.”
She says, “Yes, and a gun under my jacket pointed at your chest. Shall we leave?”
***
Hope that makes more sense~ and isn’t as embarrassing ~
🙂
Curious, he leans closer, his face inches from her back. He tries to read the tag.
She feels his hot breath on her neck and freezes. Again? Why does this keep happening? She slowly reaches into her pocket.
The letters are upside down but he can almost make out what they say. He leans in just a little bit closer.
The breath is like a flame to her skin, a flame smelling of cheap tabacco and wintergreen chewing gum. Enough. She steps forward, spins around, and raises her hand.
Surprised, the man has time to mumble “Your ta..” before she jams the taser against his neck and pulls the trigger. He drops to the floor, writhing in pain from the burst of electricity.
The smell of tabacco and wintergreen is replaced by the smell of the man’s urine as he loses control of his bladder. She places the taser back in her pocket, turns and orders her coffee to go.
A man is in line at Starbucks. He notices the very nicely dressed, professional-looking woman in front of him. Her clothes are impeccable…except for the tag of her blouse. It’s sticking up like a flag.
He checks his own shirt for sticking out tag. And does it many times during that day.
You haven’t made me care enough about the man to care about what happens nxt! (Just kidding.)
Good exercise.
He taps her on the shoulder and tells her about it…
He grabs it and rips it off…
He loves the blouse and wants one for himself…
He’s OCD and can’t stand to see it so he leaves…
I could go on, but, damn you! I have to get some work done.
“Excuse me.” He felt uncomfortable whispering in her ear. He didn’t want to cause her additional embarrassment, but when she turned a gorgeous pair of sea-green eyes on him, he nearly drowned and forgot what he was going to tell her.
His hand reaches out to tuck the tag back under her shirt, but then he recognizes the tilt of her head and the tiny mole peeking out from under the collar. If he had a ‘Kick Me’ sign he’d staple it to that stupid tag and make Susan a laughing stock of the coffee shop. She deserved so much more.
The man: “Excuse me miss, but the tag along…”
The woman: (interrupts with a wink and a smile) “I wish you would “
I hate Starbucks, wouldn’t know, but true story.
I’m in Dunkin Donuts standing in line behind an extremely attractive woman. I look down to see what appears to be a piece of lint near the waist of her pants. I tapped her arm, said excuse me, but there’s a piece of lint on the back of your pants. Do you want me to get it off. She said yes. I pulled.
The suspected lint was actually the folded over tag of her panties which I pulled. She replied, “that’s my panties.” I stopped, she received her order and left the building giving me a wide and happy smile
He looks at the tag for a while, mostly out of boredom, until it occurs to him to let the woman know that it’s sticking out.
“Excuse me,” he says.
No response.
He taps her on the shoulder, and she vanishes — poof! — she’s gone.
He jumps back, bumps into the person behind him, who advises him to watch it.
He looks around, puzzled. No else seems to have noticed that a woman just dematerialized.
He’s about to leave Starbucks when he notices the tag on the floor. He picks it up, noticing now the unusual sequence of numbers and letters.
He politely says to her back, “Excuse me, Miss, but you have a . . .”
With that, she turns around and he sees she has dollars signs for eyes and an ATM machine slot in place of her mouth. Mama had always told him to avoid women like that.
“very nice blouse,” he finished and left without ordering.
The staff behind the counter had music going. At least Colin assumed it was some kind of music, because there was a definite beat to it and the girl making the drinks was bobbing her head in a sort of matching rhythm to the noise. At least Colin assumed it was a girl. While the general upper body shape hinted at femininity the sheer number of pins, spikes and stainless steel hoops decoratively skewering her whole face tattoo made it hard to verify the species, let alone, sexual identity of the being as it slammed each cup of latte through.
The woman in front of him in line on the other hand was definitely female. Female of the kind that as far as he knew no surgeon of any skill level could imitate with modern technology. The muscles that he sensed beneath the fabric of her fitted blouse indicated a level of fitness that had him guessing she was a lawyer or high power business woman who was also a Pilates adherent. When the line took several steps forward though, the hypnotic motion of her curves had him thinking Zumba instructor.
As they stood waiting, half a dozen coffee addicts in front of them still she twisted her neck as if to stretch out a kink, then grabbed the lustrous black hair that hung like silk across her neck and bunched it into a pony tail she tied in place with a hair scrunchy. Once her hair was off her neck Colin was shocked to see an inch square piece of bright white fabric jutting proudly up from her blouse. He blushed as he had seen her private nakedness unexpectedly revealed. The tag stood out in defiance, boldly contrasting itself against her tanned skin, proclaiming in a loud voice, “Even a goddess must suffer the embarrassment of the tag!”
“Erm, Scuse me miss,” Colin said in a low whisper.
The woman didn’t react. The music was too loud.
He raised the volume and repeated, “Miss?”
The beat of the music swelled just as he spoke, drowning out his words.
He called out even louder, “MISS!”
Absolute silence descended over the room. The music had abruptly stopped.
Every eye turned on him, including the woman with the tag. She raised an eyebrow.
“Yes?”
Colin pointed feebly at her.
“Your, uh,”
“Yes?” She put her hand to where he pointed, felt the tag.
“Your tag is showing.”
She pushed it back down into her blouse. A demure smile glowed toward him that sent a swarm of butterflies on a rampage through his stomach.
The metally faced, spiky person behind the counter let out a sigh.
“How come no one ever looks at me like that?” It said.
I know, a day late but…
He politely clears his throat and says, “Excuse me.”
She turns, saying, “Yes?”
He says, “You have a tag sticking up at the yoFor today’s prompt, write a seasonal poem.
This should be a snap for haiku poets; after all, inserting seasonal words is a rule for the form.
However, you don’t have to write haiku to write a poem that references or happens in one of the four seasons: Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter.
Pick a season or include them all
******
As before~ see this and more poetry prompts, interviews, forms, and what no at the back of your blouse.”
She says, “Yes, and a gun under my jacket pointed at your chest. Shall we leave?”
Daggum cut-npaste… & small “smart” phone screen…
Lemme edit and try again…
He politely clears his throat and says, “Excuse me.”
She turns, saying, “Yes?”
He says, “You have a tag sticking up at the back of your blouse.”
She says, “Yes, and a gun under my jacket pointed at your chest. Shall we leave?”
***
Hope that makes more sense~ and isn’t as embarrassing ~
🙂
Curious, he leans closer, his face inches from her back. He tries to read the tag.
She feels his hot breath on her neck and freezes. Again? Why does this keep happening? She slowly reaches into her pocket.
The letters are upside down but he can almost make out what they say. He leans in just a little bit closer.
The breath is like a flame to her skin, a flame smelling of cheap tabacco and wintergreen chewing gum. Enough. She steps forward, spins around, and raises her hand.
Surprised, the man has time to mumble “Your ta..” before she jams the taser against his neck and pulls the trigger. He drops to the floor, writhing in pain from the burst of electricity.
The smell of tabacco and wintergreen is replaced by the smell of the man’s urine as he loses control of his bladder. She places the taser back in her pocket, turns and orders her coffee to go.