Lawrence L'Amour

I found a scribbler in the glove compartment of my car from my days working in the motel industry.  It was full of gems, some that I had been wondering where they'd gotten to, some that I had completely forgotten about.  One of the forgotten ones was this amazing story:

"Who's that loser?"

"Who?  Jimmy?"

"No, that guys."  Carlos pointed at a tall, overweight man dressed in a red toga and wearing a tattered heart-shaped foam hat twice the size of his considerable head.

"Oh, him," Janice said.  "He calls himself Lawrence L'Amour.  He's harmless."

Lawrence pranced across the street and pulled Carlos and Janice into a flabby embrace that smelled like pizza and roses.

"I am love!" Lawrence announced in a grotesque falsetto.  He slapped felt hearts onto their chests.  "Young love blooms again!"  He turned and tip-toed down the sidewalk.

Carlos took the heart off of his chest and dropped it in the gutter.  "Anyway," he said.  "I'll see you later, sis.  Tell Mom I'll be home for supper."

Lawrence saw two young men talking on a corner.  He fluttered towards them and enfolded them in his arms.  "Fear not, young fancy lads," he twittered.  "Love knows no boundaries!  You don't need the government to acknowledge your love as legitimate!"

"Dude," one of the young men said.  "Are you calling us queer?"

"I have special hearts for you!"  Lawrence bestowed rainbow-coloured hearts on the boys and twirled away.  A chihuahua crossed his path, and he scooped it up, holding it high.

"Happy Valentine's Day, little puppy-dog!" he crooned.  "I wuv you!  Yes I do!"  He kissed the dog's nose and danced down the street.

"Put some clothes on, you hippy!" an old man called from a bus stop.  His wife sat beside him.

Lawrence pressed his hands together above his heart as he gazed upon the elderly couple.  "Squeee!" he squeed.  "True love conquers all and lasts until the end of life!  Tell me, ancient one, how long have -- OOF!"

Lawrence L'Amour doubled over as the meaty fist drove into his gut.  His hat fell to the curb and was stomped on by a dirty worn work boot.

"Shut yer wang hole!" the newcomer said.

Lawrence shrieked at the sight of his ruined hat.  "My Chapeau De L'Amour!" he screamed.  He looked up and saw the scarred, bristly face of his adversary.

"I'm sicka you and everting youse stands fer," Raging Randolph said.  He pulled out a pistol and shot Lawrence L'Amour in the throat.

And that's the story of the first Valentine's Day.



I friggin' love this story.  I laughed out loud at the last sentence both when I originally wrote it and when I reread it last night.

Le Chapeau De L'Amour is, of course, a blatant rip-off of Bob The Angry Flower.

 (Image taken from Bob The Angry Flower)