Written by walter
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Thursday, 27 December 2007

The bakery where I shop has a very long queue, but I don't mind it, because I have my unique pass time: watching a free range white rooster picking sesame seeds on the pavement.

One day, after buying my loaf of bread, sadly in the absence of the rooster, I was about to cross the street, when I heard a delightful female voice. She was not a dazzling beauty. She was not wearing heavy makeup, but she was one of those females that we very rarely run into: a contour of mysterious ins, outs, ups and downs, bearing various natural tones and hues. She had a look not intended to lure, but capable of activating all chemistry producing organs in the body of a man.

Giving up crossing, I remained on pavement until she turned the corner. At this very moment I lowered my gaze when I saw the rooster looking up at me as if saying:

"Got'ya! Shocked? I don't blame ya. She did have that mysterious gift rarely given to women. Man, you're glowing like a hot piece of iron. Oooh! Can you hear the chemicals oozing? Can you see how women are looking at ya? This glow is only felt by them. I, as an expert on coupling, know how you feel. Married? Go home, but don't get shocked if she gives ya a suspicious look. If she is smart she won't spoil this unique occasion, but take you to bed. She shouldn't fall for a quickie, but resort to a delayed action, while remaining alert not to prematurely release the gift.

"I gave up the routine monotonous frequent coupling with my numerous chicks. I realized that I had turned into a tool in the hands of Nature. I lost my patience, quit poultries' ridiculous lifestyle, and turned my back on habitual organized reproduction rituals. No one dares doing what I've done: walking alone on the sidewalk of the 21st century big city. My days are numbered. I wish I could be in your shoes now. You were lucky today, man. This will not happen again and again. Since I knew it won't turn out as long as I lived, I decided to opt for the alternative, i.e. celibacy."

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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