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Into the Sunset
If I had my druthers...I'd drive right on by. We got enough dames in distress stampeding our PI office. But my partner, Irma, is ridin' shotgun. So, of course, I hit the brakes.
"Hey, Lady, you'd better get down before ya fall," I yell. A sharp jolt to my arm reminds me that Irma might be better at persuadin' than me."Hello, sweetie," coos Irma. "Why don't you come down off the bridge. We can talk. Maybe find a way to help."
"Go away. I don't want your help."
"You heard her, Irma. Let's get out of here. Besides, we're blockin' traffic." Another jab to the arm. I'll be lucky if it ain't broke.
"Buck, go play in traffic for a minute," says Irma.
I know she ain't serious, but I flag a few cars past to get rid of the honkin' horns. That's when I spot this neat little pile of ladies gee–gaws.Pink heels, pink coat, and a pink purse. I'd say our jumper's favorite color is pink. Seein' all that Pepto Bismol color could nudge a guy into a belly ache. The dame's wallet gives her name as Cherri Pye–Lipps. That'd be enough to make her wanna jump.
"Her name's Cherri," I tell Irma, "Cherri Pye–Lipps."
"That's not funny, Buck."
"Ain't that the truth.""Buck, I can't talk her down. You're gonna have to climb out there and bring her back."
Now, I love that Irma thinks I'm a John Wayne kinda guy, but you gotta draw the line. First thing after I get down off this bridge.
"Go back, mister. I'm gonna jump," says Cherri.
"If you're gonna jump, could you just go ahead and do it so's I can get back on solid ground?"
"You want I should jump? What kindda guy are you?" she asks.That's what I love about dames. The instant you tell them go ahead, they put up their backs.
"You mind givin' me a hand so I can get off this bridge?" she asks.That was easy enough. She takes my hand and starts to climb around me. We're a tangle of body parts when I lose my grip.
Irma's pullin' the girl to safety while I bob down the river like a rubber ducky in a tub. These things never happen to the Duke.
©Sandra Seamans
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Sandra is a retired farmwife who loves to write stories. Her fiction can be seen at her website: Short Stuff for Grownups, A Long Story Short, and A Flasher's Dozen, the spanky new magazine which she co–edits.
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©Margie Culbertson
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