Scratch Fiction Tag: Who you calling a mud flap?!

“I’ll tell you a little secret,” she said while exhaling a long drag off her Virginia Slim Ultra Light. Her voice had gotten deeper over the years. I looked on anxious, yet with hesitation.

“You see, I really wanted to be one of those Hula girls.” She laughed, blowing smoke in my direction and looking away. “You know, dancing on the dash, looking them in the eye, gliding along on the open road. I loved wiggling my hips and swaying back and forth in sync with the bumps and swerves in the road, all the time playing my Ukulele. I bet you didn’t know I was musically inclined." She paused here for just a few seconds.
"Anyway, it just seemed so… so exotic, ya know?"

“But then one day someone told me I looked like Anne Margaret. The thin waist, large breasts, long flowing hair. And my profile. There was just something about my god damned profile, he told me. And, well, I suppose I believed him.
“Just sit here, like this for a minute. Just one minute, won’t ya darling? And take off that ungodly grass skirt.”

“Ann Margaret, I thought to myself. Huh. Well, I suppose I could think of worse comparisons. So, I downed my PBR, dropped the skirt, lei and the only instrument I ever learned and took my place on the black rubber. I arched my back, pushed out my breasts as far as they would go and never looked back. Or forward for that matter.”

"Did I settle? some have asked over the years. I don't know. But there is one thing I do know for sure... Yosemite Sam's got nothin' on me."

She laughed her smokers laught after that, and lit another Slim.