This complication of short stories and poetry relate to experiences of hooking Carp in the plural form as with sheep, moose, and deer. Short stories such as Peas and Carrots, A Carpet Cleaner is Not a Sex Toy and Jack the Hammer Meets Betty Crocker will have you laughing with tears since you may have had similar experiences. Poetry including, Dull, Interesting, and Six Plus Four Equals Zero provide an understanding that there is no one genre when it comes to describing a Carp encounter. An evening with bottom feeders always lends itself to spontaneous combustion since a gal never knows what will come flapping from his big rubbery lips.
Carp line of introduction: I like oral and I am not referring to hygiene.
Do these sound familiar?
Carp: Take off your glasses so that I can see what you look like.
Cindy Lucy: Well then, you take off your pants so I can see what you look like.
Cindy Lucy: Why did I bother to shave my legs? This Carp has more hair sprouting out of the top of his shirt collar, the inside of his nose and his ears than I have on my entire body. I wonder if first dates should come with a razor.
Cindy Lucy: Men and Pavlov's dog are related. Both of them are trained to salivate.
Carp: Who's Pavlov? Is he a member of the rock group Kiss?
Cindy Lucy: How come your picture with your bio shows you thirty years younger and fifty pounds lighter? Is that your baby picture you have on file?
Cindy Lucy: I have faith in tulips and you will too when you read my escapades, or it may be charades, with Carp. They all come with baggage packed in a tackle box with lures that do not match the female rod and reel. I have learned that Carp mutate, therefore understanding the species provides no baseline and too many variables for problem solving. I am sure none of them come with exponential value.
|Product dimensions:||6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.38(d)|
Plenty of CarpA Fishing Guide for Dating Singles
By Cindy Lucy
iUniverse, Inc.Copyright © 2010 Cindy Lucy
All right reserved.
Chapter OnePeas and Carrots
Incoming Carp E-mail: I am a fabulous companion on holidays and known for my charming personality, washboard six-pack stomach muscles, stalking, and spending time sorting peas and carrots. My passion is writing pornographic novels.
My brain is my second favorite organ. —Woody Allen
Introduction: How can something that looks and feels so good hurt so much? I am past the pain but must admit this particular Carp left me wounded and crippled for some time. "Once bitten, twice shy babe" is not only true with Ian Hunter and rock and roll but also resonated with this particular Carp. The more contemporary summation of what Peas and Carrots did to me can be found in the lyrics sung by Lady Gaga: "He ate my heart and then he ate my brain." Due to his dishonest behavior, Peas and Carrots is now in my "no memory" folder.
The Novella: For the most part, Peas and Carrots did not appear to be the type to hide in a closet and sort vegetables. I met him on a beach vacation, and what happens on the beach, stays on the beach. I did not know our meeting was going to be as hard as Nine Inch Nails, due to my thinking that beach vacations become real-life relationships.
Meeting Peas and Carrots, who is no relation to Forrest Gump, was surreal and magical. The week was filled with smiles and the feeling of warmth coming from the depths of my womanly parts. It was a feat for me to even walk to the beach without convulsing with spasms of delight. Everything was glorious, and the end of vacation was nowhere in sight. We walked into this adventure with our Eyes Wide Shut. Even though I was able to make a connection to the movie with Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, I would have made the same mistake. If big-time movie stars have Eyes Wide Shut, then the rest of the regular population should also be included.
Peas and Carrots and I had our Eyes Wide Shut regularly, since we kept bumping into each other. He would be returning from a golf game and see me on the beach, and we would mostly just look at each other. In passing, he commented that I looked nice in a bikini, slathered in suntan oil. Then there was the nightly visit to the beach bar, which included tequila shots. I never had a shot of tequila before, and I have no idea why I waited so long. One shot of tequila equals forty-five minutes of nonstop laughter. There is no better way to spend a vacation than yucking it up. Two shots of tequila guarantee success, with more yucking. Three shots of tequila guarantee up-chucking with no yucking, unless you count dry heaves as the prerequisite laughter. So I stuck with two shots. We had a daily and nightly routine of sunning, yucking, and bumping into each other, thus "Are you stalking me?" became our personal joke. This, of course, is only while vacationing; it should be a Dating Rule: Keep your Eyes Wide Shut while on vacation, but remember your eyes must be wide open when you return to the real world.
The first mistake with Peas and Carrots was not realizing that he was only out of the closet and not sorting vegetables when he was on vacation. He was charming and affectionate, said wonderful things, and made me feel like I could love him for the rest of my life. I loved that feeling of butterflies in my stomach. It had been so long since the last time, I thought my butterflies had been netted and stick-pinned within a frame for display. We smiled, spent time in the sun, and walked hand-in-hand for the better parts of the day. There were even better times at night, and they did not involve sorting vegetables. I wish these adventures could be bottled and put on a shelf in the pantry. Then when it is cold, miserable, and lonely, I would just have to pick up this jar, open the lid, and experience all of the warmth all over again. I wonder if I can find this deal on e-Bay.
Vacations are whirlwinds. Before they begin, they come to an end. Peas and Carrots shared his e-mail address, even though he lived a couple of thousand miles away. What is a couple of thousand miles when there is warmth in the loins? Warmth has driven couples crazy mad, and this energy allows them to conquer anything in leaps and bounds. Peas and Carrots became my vision of Superman and I would be his Lois Lane. Science fiction is something I am able to completely accept.
Alas, this first was also to be my last with Peas and Carrots. Learning was a curve with this particular species, and mistakes may make me smarter. The operative word is "may." With Carp, I just didn't know if smarter was a variable that solved the equation with matters of the heart. With many miles between us, Peas and Carrots added my notch to his belt, and he wasn't even Mexican. Hopefully, Mexican men are not insulted since my intent is pure. I learned from a Mexican soap opera that notches on a belt are the marks of the number of female conquests. Referencing this connection to Peas and Carrots, who incidentally is not Mexican but a Carp, made the point I was a conquest and not to be considered seriously.
Once Peas and Carrots had completed his holiday, he returned to his closet to count his notches and resume cleaning closets and sorting vegetables. Maybe he was flossing his teeth with his belt since the gaps between them were large enough to emit deadly lies. He only acknowledged a few e-mails and did not return my phone calls. Once the holiday was over, so was Peas and Carrots. This is what I thought.
I spoke with Peas and Carrots' good traveling friend, who was also on the same holiday; I will refer to him as Lover Boy. This reference is not due to indiscretions but because he is genuine and so easy to love. Lover Boy explained that Peas and Carrots would be cleaning closets and sorting vegetables for quite some time. His past was full of run-ins with the local police due to his indiscretions. His offenses involved publishing advertisements in the local Buyer's Guide, advertising himself as a "prime fillet-o-fish sandwich," using this tactic as a front for finding available women and producing offspring. The sandwich ad had women drooling at his door. Once inside the Castle of Fish, which is the name of his establishment, his victims lose control of their womanly parts, and like the parting of the Red Sea, Peas and Carrots parts their most important part. Thus, he has impregnated dozens of women, producing numerous children, but has never married. After learning this information, I was certainly glad I had already been through menopause.
Lover Boy continued to tell me that Peas and Carrots was a real piece of work (and he was not referring to art). It seemed he was very confused with who he was sexually and relied on sorting peas and carrots to figure out his sexual tendencies for the day. Dazed and Confused (and with no help from Matthew McConaughey), he finds himself in the closet trying to figure out who he is. Armed with a bag of frozen peas and carrots, he opens the bag and separates the peas from the carrots. If peas win the number count, then he chases women for the day. If carrots win, then he chases men for the day. I wonder what would happen if there were a tie in the number of peas and carrots. I guess he would have both sexual preferences and just keep track by saying, "Eenie meenie miney mo." With this information from Lover Boy, I now understood it must have been peas the day he met me. Funny, I never saw any carrot fellas on the in-between days.
Peas and Carrots would leave the country several times a year due to his closet phobia and mania for sorting vegetables. It seemed he had become notorious and had been compared to the likes of Baby Face Nelson, since both of them are cleaner-uppers of sorts. Baby Face Nelson cleaned banks, while Peas and Carrots cleaned women's uteruses with his spermacide, formaldehyde, or maybe it is pesticide. Any Carp making it a practice to create litters with no consciousness or restitution is stinky chum.
Before Peas and Carrots decided to do another sorting of the vegetables, he communicated with me by writing a very long pornographic letter. At first, I mistook this for a love note, since he detailed multiple acrobatic acts, describing all his body parts with appropriate adjectives. I believe Woody Allen equated this with the most important male organ, which comes first before the brain. His note was a detailed description of multiple uses of a swinging thing and his balls, and I am not referring to the kind that makes baskets, drop into holes, or goes rolling down the alley.
At first, I was shocked, repulsed, and emotionally hurt that he would show such lack of thought for my feelings and how I would respond. After the second and third read, I decided he had a lot of passion for his balls. Peas are tiny balls, so he must have been fixated with round shapes. Also, I have learned that the things we are the closest to become our expressions of passion, but in Peas and Carrots' case, his balls became delusions of grandeur.
I think the intent of his letter was to morally shock me; maybe he hoped I would send it to Adam and Eve for publication. In reality, he may be a starving writer desiring to be a part of the lucrative world of pornographic publications. He also may have lots of palimony bills, since he chose to be a so-called "pal" to lots of children. I am not sure any of them refer to him as Papa. Maybe the ones he shared peas and carrots with would consider referencing him with this name since he made sure they ate healthy from one of the four food groups. Whatever; I have nothing else profound to say at this time (or ever) with regard to a guy who goes by the name of Peas and Carrots.
Lover Boy has been my e-mail friend for the past several years. He is no longer friends with Peas and Carrots, nor will he be doing future travels with him. Lover Boy calls him "psycho vegetable." He doesn't know from one day to the next whether he will be a pea or a carrot and considers him a pea brain and next in line for life as a chicken. Bestowed as chicken, he no longer will sort peas and carrots but will be poking his beak around in a fenced-in area scavenging bits of corn. I wonder what sexual preference corn is.
An update from Lover Boy tells me Peas and Carrots admitted himself to the Institute of Sexual Anomalies and agreed to let the staff use his mind for research. The goal of Project Corn is to gather data with regard to corn and the sexual tendencies when compared to the control groups of peas and carrots. The only time he is allowed off the premises is for his daily visit to the optometrist and the health club hot tub. The optometrist is necessary since his vision has become impaired due to counting peas and carrots in the dark recesses of his closet. The hot tub is physical therapy. Warm balls fire blanks, and this keeps him safe from the female population. He is allowed to chase them but not to catch and impregnate. The same goes for the fella carrots (but impregnation is not an issue).
Lover Boy chooses not to associate with Peas and Carrots any longer since he is truly a whole lot of ass instead of just being an asshole, which is much smaller in comparison. Also, Peas and Carrots blamed Lover Boy for some of the offspring, and this is unconscionable. To this day, he chooses not to eat mixed vegetables.
This holiday with Peas and Carrots was nice on the surface, but in reality it was really quite scary. My eyes were definitely wide shut then, but they are wide open now. Today, I find it hard to believe I could be so enamored with such a Carp. With regard to the Kingdom of Carp, I have to count him below zero on the number line, which qualifies him as "feces." He certainly is below chum.
Epilogue: Lover Boy heard from Peas and Carrots that he had been dismissed from the Institute of Sexual Anomalies. The data accumulated from Project Corn indicated that he was schizophrenic and not a reliable source for study since he confused corn with chick peas. Harold and His Purple Crayon may be back to the drawing board, but Peas and Carrots is back to sorting round and square frozen vegetables.
It's bizarre that the produce manager is more important to my children's health than the pediatrician. —Meryl Streep
is always fun for me.
I love to play dress up,
actually do dress up,
and totally am about dress up
is not an effort for me.
Getting ready for fishing
love the squeaky clean,
makeup and accessories,
first impressions are a must be.
Getting ready for fishing
in general may be in vain.
For the meeting on the dock
may deliver a Carp without a brain.
Two hours to get ready
and what does it bring,
Carp of every species
who do not maintain.
There are Carp with nose hairs, ear hairs,
and those who have more hair
sprouting from the top of their shirts.
There are Carp with wide bellies,
handlebar bellies, short bellies, and
jelly in their bellies.
There are Carp with no butts,
and wear pants that reveal butts.
There are Carp with some teeth,
very few teeth,
and yellow teeth with matching eyes.
getting ready for fishing is still fun for me
regardless of what the fishing brings, you see
it may be the best two hours I spent on me
and for that, I smile happily.
Dancing with Woodcock
Incoming Carp E-mail: Looking for anyone who does not wear glasses and does not like to dance. Gals responding must be able to listen to unsavory conversation including bouts of diarrhea, jail house rock, and travels with lost luggage.
This is my dance space. This is your dance space. I don't go into yours, you don't go into mine. —Patrick Swayze (Johnny Lee), Dirty Dancing, 1987
Introduction: Four years ago, I met two single gals from Nebraska in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. I was shocked to learn they were from Nebraska, since I thought the state was owned and operated by corn manufacturers and the only inhabitants were cows. Needless to say, we had a great week together and decided to spend another week in the summer at my house as a gals' week of single fun. I considered myself newly single, and they had been single for several years. They helped me to feel better about my single self and with being comfortable around single men.
The Novella: During this week of vacation, I entertained the gals by taking them to singles clubs, dances, festivals, and other sites in Michigan. This was not a difficult charge, and even Kid Rock knows best with references from his song, "Summertime in Northern Michigan." The lyrics closest to my Michigan heart include "splashing on the sandbar, talking by the campfire, catching walleye by the dock, and watching waves roll off the rocks." With all these exciting things on the agenda, I also understood they had to include meeting single men.
The first few nights the Ya Yas (my nickname for my corn-on-the-cob sisters) spent in Michigan were just that: nights. We stopped at the Lake Pub Karaoke Bar, took a drive to Lake Michigan, and ate dinner at a bar and grill. None of these events elicited single men. I next mentioned the Saturday Night Singles Dance, and the Ya Yas chorused "Alleluia" (and attending church wasn't even a part of the agenda). They agreed it would be fun to get dressed up and strut on the dance floor. At my age, the closest comparison would be to a cougar, and I have never seen a cougar strut. I guess my stance is to prowl and snarl. At fifty-plus years, most of the men would probably be much younger than me, and the ones who weren't were probably just terribly old, couldn't dance, and were just looking for younger gals as a substitute for a big plasma TV. So if some of them were grazing, I'd just take a look at what brings the steers out of their corrals or the Fish out of their schools.
Excerpted from Plenty of Carp by Cindy Lucy Copyright © 2010 by Cindy Lucy. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Part I Elementary School: Beginning Fishing....................1
Peas and Carrots....................3
Dancing with Woodcock....................11
Regular Jail Carp—"Now if You Know the Rest of the Story"—Paul Harvey....................17
A Carpet Cleaner Is Not a Sex Toy....................22
Money Trumps Compassion....................28
The Lazy Days of Dukes with Carp Dukey....................33
My Life's in Jeopardy, Baby....................38
Part II Intermediate School: The Marathon Phase....................49
Please Squeeze the Charmin....................51
Bucky the Tooth....................59
Shame, Shame, Shame ... Shame of Fools....................71
Jack the Hammer Meets Betty Crocker....................95
Part III Middle School: Adolescent Fishing....................101
Time and Mathematics....................109
Part IV High School Fishing....................119
Part V Higher Education....................139
Al Minus the Family....................142
Al and the Family....................147
Part VI Quotables for a Dollar: My Life's in Jeopardy, Baby....................157
Cindy Lucy and Carp....................159