Melodramatic Moment

I am a trashy romance action hero.

You’ve seen me at your local bookstore in a hairy-chested, hunky picture on the cover of those dreadful books. I spend a great deal of time posing shirtless, while cameras flash away and pouf-y photographers beg me to pout more for the camera. (Topless gets chilly in December.)

One day, as I flexed for the mirror and applied more oil to my pectorals, there came a cry from outside my window:

“Help! Help help!”

Peering out, I saw a classic D’n’D (damsel in distress) moment. Sweet Penelope! Getting shoved into an open cab by a sinister-looking fellow in a tall, black hat. He looked up my way and twirled a finger in his handlebar mustache, before climbing into the cab himself.

“Villain! I will smite thee!” I cried, pausing to give my biceps one last regretful kiss.

I rushed to the basement of my parking deck, where my noble steed Alfonzo calmly munched his oats.

“Tally ho, Alfonzo! Time to save the day!” I vaulted the Ford in the next parking space, and leapt into the saddle. Time for action!

Alfonzo only turned his head and looked at me blankly.

“That means giddy-up.”

Several minutes later, Alfonzo ambled his way slowly out of the parking deck. Alfonzo was the archetypal hero’s steed; a blaze of speed, a cloud of dust, and hearty hi-ho…

The police cruiser tripped its siren, pulling in front of us.

“Get off the horse, buddy.” Blared the loudspeaker.


After an hour or so, I returned to my apartment with my traffic citation. Apparently, it’s illegal to drive a noble steed in downtown Brooklyn. Who knew? Poor Alfonzo, impounded. Poor Penelope, surely in mortal peril!

On my phone, I had a message waiting. My agent. I’d missed another photo shoot and stood in default of contract, again. He told me not to bother calling, he wouldn’t have any more work for me.

And then the phone rang.

“Seymour,” it was Penelope! “I’ve only called to tell you goodbye. Snidely and I are on a flight to Hollywood right now, he has a choice role for me.”

“But Penelope!” I cried in anguish.

“Oh Seymour, stop being so dramatic. You never had any time for me anyway, as long as you have your mirror.” *click*

She’s right. I do look good.

parkinkspot sq logo