Member-only story
Dixie
A story that’ll make you smile (and maybe cover your ears! (fiction)
The child spent thousands of hours imagining fame. The private dressing rooms scattered across America, the tinted windows of limousines, posters displayed in every theatre window. He thought through each new character at CD signing events, the old and the young, and what he would say to stun and amaze them. He had placed each cheque, personally, into bank account after account; knew exactly who would share his stinking wealth and who would not; all this so easily attained — it would shock people for generations.
No raging beauty, not strong or athletic, or even funny, he had but one, spectacular, personal asset, a talent which he took pride in exercising at every opportunity: public or private. Nothing was fleeting about this dream. He had spent no less than six of his ten years in its pursuit. And although he had chosen not to share this dream, in so many words, with anyone dear to him, everyone knew (instinctively?) that his lips were his passion.
His lips. He thanked God mightily for their fullness, their enormity, their tautness, and their purse-ability. Yes, purse-ability. And if there wasn’t such a word, he knew it would be invented to describe his lips, and even that alone would bring him into every household in the world that had a dictionary! Surely, there is no language barrier in existence which could…
