Friday, June 7, 2013
It started with one little lady whose story wrote itself. Stormy had sass. It was obvious. She was a girl in the 20s who made her own way and loved dancing.
Stormy: But I am on the up and up, Charlie. I am on the level. I am driving my own boat.
Charlie: horsefeathers, Stormy! You aren't on the level. You are still stepping out in your glad rags toward some juice joint or another flashin your gams. Up and up!? Pffft!
Stormy: Alright, Charlie, I have had enough. Keep flappin your gums at me with this line of baloney and I won't be such a sweet dame. I will have to crash you five in the kisser. You can't talk to me like I am just some tomato. You are sore cause you balled up what could've been a great thing. We coulda been the cat's pajamas together one day. You had to get too friendly with that Dumb Dora and you know I ain't one to share. So you slipped on a peel, Charlie. Then she jumped ship when she saw that the breezer you were driving belonged to the Big Cheese and wasn't yours. That gold digger didn't want your jalopy and now you are left holding the bag.
Charlie: Come on, Stormy. You know I'm no drugstore cowboy. You know you were my special girl. I got to far into the giggle water that night and shouldn'ta been twirling the keys. You can't keep bustin me up this way, though. You get all dolled up and...
Stormy: Now pipe down, I ain't some kind of pushover. If you want some baby to hit the struggle buggy with, it ain't me. I dont take kindly to my fella talkin up any ragamuffin who put on clean clothes. You might be a keen fella, but I am the real McCoy. I am heading out to hoof it and I will til the day I walk the middle aisle with some Shiek with enough clams to afford me. And if you think havin kittens when I am heading out will turn me around then you've gone screwy.
Charlie: come on, Stormy, don't be a pill, razzin me like I'm a sap. Give us a kiss and let's talk about breakfast.
Stormy: Sorry, Mac, the bank's closed and that's the crop.