Kissing Her And Making Up

“There was always a time when we argued about the dumbest things,” Mr. Bushwhacker sat at a rolltop quill in hand and wrote a letter before being distracted when youthful innocence enjoying a recreation activity got too aggressive. They were classmates inside the one room that was called a schoolhouse located a walk down the dusty path and a misunderstanding stirred a brewing pot.

“Millie, you asked me,” the author continued to pen, “to take a break from my creativity and fetch something you needed. I said ‘no’ in the most rudest way. I am truly regretful to of carried on with that embarrassing childish action.”

Suddenly, shouting broke out, and Mr. Bushwhacker peered out the window before cracking it a tad, “boys, what is the skirmish all about?”

“He started it,” the athletic one said.

“He asked me to kiss his sister,” the theatrical character defended himself, “and I said yuck!”

“So, I gave him a sandwich the form of my knuckles,”

“Now my face hurts and I cannot exchange slubbering spit even if I wanted to,”

“That is a shame,” Mr. Bushwhacker concluded hearing both sides of the argument, “I must get back to what I been tending to, so no more dueling, okay.”

As the kids went back to having fun the writer unsealed an envelope and inserted the apology note. Leaving the apartment, he headed downstairs approaching his love’s residence. After knocking he waited a second before slipping the correspondence through the bottom gap and watched it slide into her possession.

Taking a stroll, having nothing to do, Mr. Bushwhacker decided to go over to the food supply store and proceeded to enter, “good day, Mrs. Kugelis, how are you doing on this delightful afternoon,” he asked.

“Just weathering another rejection in my long marriage,” she smirked.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“I made a delicious breakfast, and my husband was not interested,” she answered, “too busy, had to get back upstairs to work.”

“That is a shame,” Mr. Bushwacker picked up a bread loaf and other important necessities.

“How about you?”

“I am fine, just got some personal stuff off my chest,”

“That will be thirty-eight cents all together,”

After handing the proprietor change Mr. Bushwacker continued the happy hour journey and upon exiting the angry youngsters ran into him, “have you resolved your differences?”

“About challenging my sister in tongue fencing?” Troy asked.

“Sort of,” Donahue honestly expressed.

“Now tell me, why didn’t you want to show emotional affection to his sister?”

Taking a few seconds, Donahue shrugged his shoulders while Troy insisted on knowing, “well, why don’t you want to carefully open mouth sword lick my sister?” Laughing Mr. Bushwacker told the pair not to allow a female to get in the middle of a companionship. That is when he headed back to his private writing confines.

Looking up he saw a beautiful lady standing holding a mailer, “my dear, poet,” she started, “I edited your sorry filled plea and forgot about our fight that we had, can you remind me? My dedicated storyteller,”

Stopping in his tracks Mr. Bushwacker had nothing to say, “oh no, that devotion declaration, I slid under your door was for my publisher, new idea for a stage play about independence in the city called, 1776.”

“I thought it was for me, such lovely words for some one sitting behind a desk,”

Reaching the top steps both displayed joyous performing grins, Millie flung her hands around his neck, “I truly love you,” she stated politely applying the wedding vow commitment gesture, “I do, I do, I do,”

While they both enjoyed the intimate moment the romantic couple could see the two preadolescent curious onlookers staring with eyes bulging and read their lips, ‘wow!’ This friendly interaction instigated Mr. Kugelis to appear from his literary duties taking them by the ear whispering, “you see, growing gentlemen, that is what makes the world go around.”