By C.D. Marcum
I started streaking after I started walking and never looked back. In middle school I perfected the drive-by mooning, white cheeks slapping school bus windows. In college, the poetry in the park streak was fine work. After my firstborn, I had a good run down two levels in the parking garage. Eventually, camera phones ruined the art. A proper streak is like a Sasquatch sighting. Shock. Maybe a blurry picture. My kids wheel me into McCready Rest. I’ve longed for this day. Donned my old trench coat. My magnum opus. I’m running. Orderlies chase after, but true art cannot be captured.
C.D. your story has definitely captured true art.
A masterpiece!
Humor always makes you feel better. You have such talent
A beautiful streak of surprise
Ah, yes, the days of Pressed Ham on Rye! 🙂
Truly excellent
The first sentence is hilarious enough – never mind the rest! Superb story.
Buttastic.