They were having sex on Main Street. In broad daylight. Neked as jay birds--only they were not jays. They weren't my Neked dog either. I wouldn't have had problems with seeing that--well, except I wouldn't want to see it happening in the middle of a busy street where they might get hurt. But here these two yahoos were. Neked and doing IT in the middle of a busy street. They had absolutely no qualms about it either. I figured they must be drunk or high. Or exhibitionists.
Surely there was a reason for this over the top PDA. I'm not a prude--I just think what goes on in your bedroom should stay in your bedroom. I don't want to see others in The Act. And I don't want to know about it. It's private--not a spectator sport. Let's keep it that way. There ought to be laws against this kind of crap--oh wait--there are laws against it.
I started to call the authorities, but realized they might not survive the wait--oblivious to the danger they were in, they edged ever closer to the passing traffic--luckily they were in a turn lane that no one was using. I say luckily--but maybe not, maybe they planned it because it was less used and therefore "safer." Nah, they were just probably too dumb to think of safety issues. Either way, I was sure they would get hit before the police arrived, so I decided it was up to me to take matters into my own hands.
On a side note, this is one of the hallmarks of a cozy--the sleuth is an amateur, who for, what ever reason, feels she must take action. Think Angela Fletcher from Murder She Wrote. Sure that's just in books and movies, and the protagonist is usually trying to get themselves, a friend, or an innocent bystander cleared of murder charges, because they don't think the authorities can do it, and this was me, going to stop public sex on a busy street, and there has been no murder, but I trust you to understand where I'm coming from: I felt compelled to take action.
I waited until the traffic cleared a little, then I pulled my SUV into the turn lane, parked, set my emergency flashers, and got out. With every step I took, I silently berated myself. What are you thinking?! You should have just called the authorities. If this couple is drunk or high they could hurt you. They could gang up on you, attack you in a substance induced rage, and throw you into the very traffic you are attempting to protect them from. Why in the world are you acting like the dumb bimbos in the teen horror flicks of your youth?! You knew enough to advise the TV actresses against stupid behaviors, so why are you now the idiot making a grave mistake?!
As the other cars slowed and I neared the couple, they finally realized where they were, and the eminent danger they were in--presumably they felt I was the danger because they broke apart, and flew away to safety. They may not have been Jays, but they were some kind of bird. Sadly, I originally thought one was injured or too young to fly and the other was attempting to get him to safety. It was only when they both took flight that I realized they were just mating. Since I mistook sex for injury, I'm thinking I probably need to get out more.
True story.
About Me
- Loulymar
- My bags are packed and I'm always ready to seek out an adventure with Bandit and Moggy in tow. Bandit is my thirteen year old Chinese Crested, who I frequently call The Bald One or The BaldOne Boy (like he was one of the Baldwin Brothers). Moggy’s full name is Pip-Moggy. He’s my two year old gansta-resuce kitty. I couldn’t decide between Pip (which are the spots on die and domino tiles) and Moggy (or Moggie when I mistakenly thought he was a she), so I combined the two. Moggy refers to the British term for "cat of unknown parentage .” So in essence, I have an almost bald dog, and I’ve named my cat “Spot.”
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