Environmental Romance: Part Two

WARNING:  Don't even think about reading this installment

without reading installment numero uno.  

 A challenging intellectual piece of romantic literature 

such as this will leave you hopelessly lost 

without the proper framework.

Flora:  An Environmental Love Story

By Laraine F. Eddington
(Best read aloud with expression - by candlelight)

Installment numero dos:  (That's number two to you gringos) 

He stood there with his hands on his hips, a look of displeasure on his forehead. He was a scrawny man, only 5’ 4” from the top of his graying mullet to his paint-spattered Payless sneakers. “What’s the hurry cutie?” His voice cawed at her like the cry of a raven.

Flora squared her shoulders and took a deep steadying breath. “Sir, I am not your “cutie” her slender fingers made elegant quotation marks in the air. “I am a duly sworn officer of the United States Forest Service, and have made a promise to defend and protect it and every woodland creature that calls it home.” Her green eyes glinted with passion as she continued. “And you sir, are illegally discharging a firearm.”


The disgusting man chuckled, and spat a sloppy stream of tobacco juice, coating what had been a pristine stalk of Indian paintbrush. Flora stepped back, and wrinkled her finely chiseled nose in disgust. 

Shaking his grizzled mullet the man said, “Do you see a gun in my hands little lady? I mean, other than these two I’m a packin’ right here?” He pushed back the sleeves of his grimy t-shirt and flexed his unimpressive biceps.


Flora looked away in confusion. She was not used to biceps being flourished at her, unimpressive or otherwise. “Well, then who…I heard a gun—I…”


Another blast echoed through the twilight. Flora jumped involuntarily, a flush spreading across the porcelain skin of her high cheekbones.


The unattractive specimen before her slapped his filthy jeans and hooted with unkind laughter. “Whoooeee, that was fun seein’ you jump like a carp on a fishin’ line. Yes siree, that was a sight to see.” A puff of dust wafted from the jeans toward Flora’s sensitive nose and she coughed delicately, trying to regain control of the situation like she had been taught in the rigorous hours at the Forest Ranger Training Academy where she had been first in her class and had also earned the prestigious “Al Gore: Most Likely to Stop Global Warming” award.


She whipped a paper pad out of her back pocket. The 3x5 citation book made of recycled paper was slightly curved; molded to the curvature of her shapely buttocks. She pressed down with a firm hand. “I am citing you sir, for the discharging of noxious poisons on a protected forest fauna aka spitting tobacco juice on a flower."  She scribbled furiously, then neatly tore out the ticket bearing a $285 fine.  He reached for it with a reluctant chapped paw.


“My twin brother is not a goin’ like this”. The voice was malevolent and menacing.


“Your brother?” Flora’s mellifluous voice trembled a little in spite of herself.


“Yup, he’s the one a shootin’ yonder over that there ridge.”


And then she saw him.


                           To be continued...