Pot-luck

Marc lived in Bromfelde Rd, Stockwell, South London. It’s surprising that this guy in his late twenties didn’t end up working for a circus. In fact, he was in between jobs, signing on at the office in Clapham every fortnight.

He had bought a bicycle with one wheel, juggling balls and a kite. Marc had ginger hair, and he preferred red-heads to the blond type. He was a Christian and was bi-sexual, but he told people that he was heterosexual.

He did have a driving license, but got around on a red Vespa. He leafed through a male magazine, and caught a glimpse of the three-page-model of the week. ‘Great boobs’, he thought. ‘Lovely long blond hair!’ he added.

His fixation for her, and beginning obsession for the three-page-model of the week became stronger by the hour. He told a friend of his about his ‘new Lassy’, as he lovingly called her, and his mate readily replied that he had indeed spotted her in person, at a dance-party on a Friday evening in the Fridge in Brixton.

So that’s where they went on the Friday. Marc was wearing a pair of jeans and a colourful shirt, that his ex-girlfriend had given him as a Christmas present, his mate was wearing a yeans and a black shirt.

They enquired at the door, and found out that the lady in question was indeed on the mailing list, having shown the security guard the page with the model-shot of this week in question. Sadly, they couldn’t make out her e-mail address.

They ordered Rum-Cola, and lingered at the bar, when our man in black pin-poined Michelle, humming softly ‘Michelle, my belle’. Marc - not usually the timid type – lightly pressed one of this juggle balls that served as a stress-ball, when he was nervous, and went up to her.

‘Fancy a dance?’

‘That’s my luck’, she thought, and said ‘no’ to his face, turned around and started giggling with a few of her female friends, as she walked away from Marc and his mate.

‘Sassy’, he said to his mate, but couldn’t hide his disappointment, as his mate handed him another glass of Rum-Cola.

‘However,’ his mate thought, ‘you shouldn’t have worn that colourful shirt’.
 

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