I consolidated the stories about Fred.


...long live, Hill Blocks View. I miss writing. But the thought of one more round of "welcome backs", or obsessing over stats, or thinking of the clever response to a comment, or the obligation to read everyone else's blog... not so much. So I'll try and write. No pressure. If you feel the need to respond, you can email me. I like email. flipaul@yahoo.com

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Snake The Rebel Gets All The Chicks.

There was just something about Snake. For some odd reason women were unaccountably attracted to him. Perhaps it was his unconventional handsomeness. With his brilliant blue eyes, perfectly straight teeth, tanned skin, swimmer's build and movie star hair. Maybe it was because he was rebellious and wild; he sometimes paired white wine with beef, he ran an underground poetry club out of the back of his mechanic's shop, and he hardly ever drank his required eight class of water per day.
   Surely, some women were drawn to the taboo of the boy from the other side of the tracks, and although Snake Vanderbilt-Carnegie-Rockefeller was always too ashamed to let anyone know where he lived, everyone in town knew he went home to the embarrassingly unobtrusive, forty room mansion on the hill. No, nobody could exactly put their finger on what was so attractive about Snake. 
   He had appeared mysteriously at the hospital maternity ward nearly thirty years ago, and had been spreading his brand of danger and trouble ever since. As a child he ran wild in the streets, staying out until until all hours of the early afternoon, wreaking havoc on the litter beside the highway, hanging out in alleys serving meals to homeless families and engaging in wanton violence at the local MMA gym. As a teenager, he was constantly at odds with his classmates for wrecking the curve in both math and P.E.
   After barely graduating high school as Valedictorian in three excruciatingly short years, Snake took his traveling mayhem to MIT. In short order they decided they had had enough of Snake's antics, and they sent him, his doctorate, his wild theories on quantum mechanics, and his modeling contract, packing.
   Once home, Snake formed a ruthlessly well run business called Diesel Dogs. He almost exclusively hired dangerous men and women, who previously had made their living with guns in their hands, viciously spreading freedom and democracy to other parts of the world. Now this band of miscreants, led by Snake, spread their near anarchy across the region by repairing big rigs for profit during the day and repairing and distributing bicycles to orphans for kicks, until it got dark. 
   Yet, despite all this, women were irresistibly drawn to Snake. The female mind is an inscrutable and complex organism, and we may never understand it. Why are women always drawn to the rebel?