, showing ankles, delicious ankles, fat ankles, skinny ankles (blech…not enough fat to help the ankles slide down the throat), ankles with shiny things on them (SHINY!). I love ankles…they are so tasty. I love the smell of Dr. Scholl’s in the morning, smells like…victory!
I wave my tongue up and down, looking at a woman’s ankles that rise above her black soccer shoes. The stubble on her leg catches against my tongue as I lap up and down her Achilles heel (hah, you thought I didn’t know what that was….death to you oh ignorant ones). I recognize the taste of Irish Spring soap…..I will leave this one for later, after she has learned of the delights of Bath and Body Works where she will buy raspberry lotion that will add just that extra little something.
I slither through the weeds and up onto the tarmac. I love the tarmac in the morning. That with Dr. Scholl’s really gets me going! The warmth oozes into my body, a holy form of osmosis. I am energized, vigorous, amorous….
I wiggle forward, loving the feel of stones upon my body, the rough touch of tar soaked rock…it adds such a nuance to my symbolism of evil…deception….and apples…lots of apples….
I get ahead of myself. Actually, I don’t. I am merely establishing the grand exposition to the story in which I will introduce the reader to the conflict and the characters…of course, the most important character is myself…but, I figure you would know that…right?
Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ricardo Liberace…I loved his music and dedicated myself to the preservation of his memory. Not having hands, this has been difficult. However, I have learned that through fabulous undulations of my delicious (oops…did I say that?), I have mastered the scales.
It hasn’t been easy.
But this is my life. Welcome to it.
Chapter One, Introduction to the conflict….the great conflict…..the wonderous conflict of doom that includes doomed planes and doomed ankles and doomed snakes, but not me because I am Ricardo Liberace and I will prevail.