If That Dress Could Talk

“So what’s your story, morning glory?” he asked her, staring into her big brown eyes. They were like two magnets pulling him in. Of all the juke joints in town, he had to walk into this one. Where he would see this exotic gold skinned beauty in a dress that could cure cancer. It was a red dress. One that had seen its share of blood and lives fucked up beyond redemption. If dresses could talk, this one could write an encyclopedia of misery. He hadn’t given any of this the slightest thought. He just wanted to wet his whistle (and something else) that night. Seeing this exotic beauty in a place like this had to be a fluke of some sort. “Maybe she’s married or just feeling lonely tonight and just needs to get laid” he thought. “Why else would she be in a place like this? This is one classy woman!”

Joseph couldn’t break eye contact with the woman. She had him under her spell, whatever sort of who-doo it was. She never uttered a word, just looked into his eyes and then down & away occasionally and with a hint of sorrow for decoration. This only added to her mystique and beauty. Joseph wanted her more each time her gaze shifted away. What does a wolf always do to an injured deer?

“Hey, it’s alright… I don’t bite dear” he claimed, taking her hand.

With a disturbed expression, the scarlet covered beauty pulled away and clanked her high heels on the dark wooden floor & out of the sleazy bar. It would seem bars, sin, nightlife and questionable men were all bottom spanking new to her. Do you think this deterred our dashing heroin with the impressive stubble? Yes it did.

However, the Gods of Love would smile down on him in that moment as she forgot her black handbag if front of Joseph. The former boy-scout in him was all about helping damsels in distress, especially if they needed help crossing the street or forgotten their purse in a shady bar. Joseph put out his cigarette and followed after her. “Hey sweetie, you forgot your purse!” he called out to her as  the door closed behind her. Laughing echoed throughout the bar at the sight of this man with the black handbag running. In his pursuit of this enigma, Joseph focused on her ruby red dress flowing on the other side of the glass as she turned to walk down the street. He could see her pacing. He could catch up to her. He would tell her that he’s not there to hurt her, just returning her purse. It all seemed so cliché to him.

As he pushed open the door and hurried through, the woman in the beautiful red dress was nowhere to be found. Puzzled and maybe a little spooked, Joseph looked all around, in every direction. It was as if she was never there. When he looked back at the bar, another shock…. All the lights were off, no music blaring and an ancient ‘For Sale’ sign was taped to the inside of the glass window. The ‘Cool Arrows’ bar sign was no longer lit up in bright neon. There wasn’t even a sign anymore. He rushed over and peered inside the darkness. All he could see was an empty room.

He looked down and was still holding the black handbag and had good-ish intentions with the lady and her purse.

“What… the…. fuck?!?” he questioned himself. Not a soul could be seen on the street, not a car on along the sidewalks…. He was all alone. He reached into his pants pocket for his cell phone to check the time and day. It was dead. Now he was officially acared. He began to walk down the street just wanting to get out of there, purse still in hand. Just then, Joseph could hear faint music down the alley to his left next to the bar. Unsure of just what the fuck was happening. His curiosity got the best of his capacities. He began to seek out the source. As he came in closer proximity, he heard a familiar old 80's song,

“Lady in red, Is dancing with me, cheek to cheek There’s nobody here, It’s just you and me It’s where I want to be.”

“Ok… time to get the fuck out of here!!” he said as he turned around and dropped the black purse as his eyes widened, seeing the horrifying sight in front of him. All he could do was scream.

“What do you think his problem was?” asked the scruffy old man sitting next to his buddy at the bar.

“Ahh, who the fuck knows… hey uh, Clarence I’ll have another Whisky! Bring down that top shelf stuff. We’re burnin’ the midnight oil here.” Said the old man to the barkeep.

“Hey Clarence, did you get a load of that broad in the red dress?” asked the first wino.

“Yeah, if only that dress could talk.” Said the barkeep.

“I do believe it did.” The pals burst into laughter.