In about 20 minutes, I was almost there. I followed the directions and turned down the bumpy dirt road until I noticed a trailer at the end. The address matched the address she had given me, so I walked on up. As I approached the door, there was a sign that read, "Come in, but don't steal anything." I tapped on the door and in I went.
As I entered the mobile home, I was taken by the decor. The way she managed to match the curtains with the stuffed moose head above the mantle was utterly amazing. Brilliant! "Hello?" I said. A voice came from down the hallway, "Make yourself at home!" Her voice was much deeper than I had imagined, and she had what sounded like an Amish or Danish accent. [Note: for those in question, the Amish are a group of people from up North, with funny suits and goatees. Kinda like grunge musicians at the MTV music awards. A Danish is something you eat, or something like that. With me so far? Okay.]
She finally made her way down the hall. She looked, uh, slightly different from the picture she had sent. Pretty much in every way. Her blonde hair looked nothing like the brunette picture she had sent me, but with those noticeable chin hairs she had, I knew she would do well working in any fine American cafeteria. Her unibrow drew immediate attention to her lovely green eyes. You just knew this would be that special girl you'd want to stand behind while in the mosh pit at a heavy metal concert. I wouldn't say she was cross-eyed, but when she cried (later that night), the tears rolled down her back. The doctors called her condition 'backtearia'. "By the way, my name is Olga," she said. Ah.
She had prepared an amazing dinner, complete with baked possum meatloaf covered with Corn Flakes. After dinner, we had a wonderful conversation about our passions and where we were heading in life. But it finally occured to me that she and I might not be meant for each other. After all, I wanted to pursue writing and psychology, and she wanted to wrestle alligators one day. So we knew it was not meant to be. Sadly, I turned to head down to my car, and I heard her say, "Wait!" I turned to face her. "Here. Meatloaf for the road," she said, handing me a Tupperware container covered in aluminum foil.
To this day, sometimes while watching Olympic gator-wrestling on C-span, my wondering thoughts will return to my beloved Olga. Or was that Frenchie? Who knows?
[Note: there were no animals harmed in the making of this story... unless you count the possum, but they aren't exactly the most gifted of God's creatures. And they're about as useless as scented toilet paper.]
I wrote this back in the early 90's, after only a couple hours of sleep. I decided to repost it (revising very little of it) in hopes of sharing some humor. And because some people tend to personalize things or take it upon themselves to find a reason to NOT LAUGH, let me say, this was in no way intended to hurt anyone, nor is it directed at anyone. So just suck it up and laugh a little. ;)