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I look back over my shoulder, see Moose watching me through the windshield, attentive. I hope he can read my mind as well as Morgan.Help me, Moose.
To my shock, he can. He gives me a look in return that clearly says, "Hold on, pretty lady in overalls. I got your back. Just sit tight and let big Moose handle this."
It's very detailed. Maybe he can read minds.
With shocking ease for his size, Moose slips out of the semi like a ballerina, even landing on his tiptoes. His face lights up with a smile as he struts toward the guard.
At first, all the guard can do is watch in awe at the big man's nimble grace, but then he realizes his job and aims his rifle when Moose is just feet away. "Hold on. Who the fuck are you?"
"My name's Moose, Mr. Sexy Suit. Love the lines on that thing. It looks like it was tailored just for you. Really makes your arms and shoulders pop. And your chest, oh my. You must work out."
The man smiles, his chest puffing just a little. It doesn't matter the time, place, or circumstances, if you pay a man a compliment about him looking buff, he will accept it with all the grace of a drunken chimpanzee. "Yeah, I hit the gym from time to time. Do free weights, mostly, but a little bench press, too."
"Whatever it is, man, keep it up. You are looking fierce."
"Thanks. I try," he says. Then he shakes his head. "Hold on. Just what the fuck are you two doing here for real? Why is one of the supposed bridesmaids getting dropped off here at the gates by some big-ass trucker at fucking early-ass in the morning?"
"It's a story," Moose says with elegant ease. "You sure you got time to hear it?"
"I got time."
Moose gives me a quick look over his shoulder.Be ready.
"You really sure?"
I can see his muscles tense. His shoulders and biceps flex. Is this it? Is he going to take on a man with an assault rifle?
"I'm sure," the guard says, keeping his grip on the weapon loose, but still aimed right at Moose and me. "Tell me your story, big guy. Tell it like your lives depend on it, because they do."
"Well, Mr. Suit, to really understand the why of the how that Ms. Green got here, I need to tell you about my time in Jacksonville a few years ago. Spring break."
"Wait, what?" The guard tries to interrupt, but Moose doesn't seem to hear him. Moose is on a roll.
"Okay, so there I am, right in the heart of Jacksonville, Florida, Spring Break central. The air's thick with the scent of saltwater and sunscreen, and the beach is just buzzing with life. Now, I'm not usually one for big crowds, but this was a scene I couldn't miss."
"Hold on…"
"As I'm walking along the boardwalk, I spot this guy. He's tall, dark, and handsome, sure, kind of reminds me of you, but obviously, you're sexier. Man, what I would do with you, if only you could keep up. Doubt you could, though..."
"I'm sure I could," the guard insists, then shakes his head. "But I'm not..."
"I'm not, either. Homosexual, bisexual, I don't take labels, Mr. Suit. I'm justsexual. Now, like I was saying, this guy, I spot him, handsome, everything I could want, but it's his mustache that really catches my eye. I mean, this thing was magnificent — so big and bushy you could've swept the floor with it. Like someone locked Tom Selleck in a cave for a hundred years and what emerged from that earthly cocoon was pure man with a mustache made to ride..."
"Where the fuck is this going...."
"Hush, dear. As I was saying, I sidle up to him, trying to play it cool, and strike up a conversation. Turns out, he's got this deep, smooth voice that's as captivating as his facial hair. Like Barry White, but ten, fifteen percent sexier. He introduces himself — let's call him 'Mister Mustache' because I've forgotten his name — and we start chatting about everything under the sun. A real soul connection. It's like I've found my unicorn, and I am ready to just put a ring on it and ride that mustache all night, friction burns be damned. Of course, I wouldn't actually do that so early in a relationship, and I know I'd still have to do some vetting, because I did meet this man in Florida. 'Florida Man' is a thing for a reason, right?"
"I guess..." the guard says. He's looking so increasingly confused, his grip on the gun wavers, his eyes a mixture of pure, enraptured attention and befuddled sleepiness.
"The night starts to blur as we hop from bar to bar, laughing and sharing stories. Mister Mustache then tells me he's got something special, a 'magic pill' he calls it. Says it will make the night unforgettable. I've taken magic pills before and they usually lead to a lot of fun dancing, or, at the very least, they make the other people at Burning Man tolerable. And, sometimes, of course, they give you fantastic erections that'll never let you down, or they make you see things that aren't there. Sometimes both. Those are the really good ones. But this pill… this pill..."
"What about it?" The guard's gun is pointed flat at the ground. Moose could tackle the man before he even has a chance to react.
"So, I take the pill, and the next thing I know, the world's spinning, colors are brighter, and every sound is like music to my ears. It's like Ecstasy times five. Mister Mustache and I are dancing in the streets, laughing like we've known each other for years. Oh, and he was such a kisser, too. I know people say that all the time, but it was like I hadn't kissed anyone until I kissed him. This man's lips... oh, and that mustache. I had a tickling fetish for a year because of that thing. Just couldn't get off unless someone was working me with that bristly magic. And every time I saw a broom? Oh, I got so hard... anyway, where was I? Oh, that pill. Just a gateway to heaven and that man's mustache was the escalator I rode to get there."
Moose takes a breath. Then continues. "But here's the kicker — I wake up the next morning, not on the beach in Jacksonville, but on some sandy shore in New Orleans. All I've got on are these tighty whities, and I'm thinking, 'How the heck did I get here and what happened to my underwear, because these tighty whities definitely aren't mine?'"
"But where did the underwear come from?" The guard says. He's forgotten everything except Moose's underwear. I could walk right past him and he'd still be standing there, captured by the big man's story.
