Famous for the Pink Flamingo Motel and???? OK, that’s about all Fantasy is famous for, well maybe not famous but someone knows it’s there.
A place where Romance is in the air on a dirt road in Texas.
Welcome to Fantasy.
Fantasy is a small town in west Texas, where jack rabbits and rattlesnakes far outnumber the two legged inhabitants. It exists somewhere south of Interstate 40 and east of “damn it’s hot out here”. Don’t expect any tropical breezes to blow through this Fantasy.
This is where Dr. Richard Ells found himself, shortly after graduating from college with a degree in Veterinary Science.
He was tall, with curly brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. He looked right at home in jeans, and alligator cowboy boots and a T Shirt that boasted “Body by Adonis”. Looking at him, it would be hard to believe that he was still single. But as one of his latest girl friends had said, she wanted nothing to do with a man, who would spend most of his time looking up the ass of large animals. So out the door she went. This abrupt end to his romantic life, left Dr. Ells wondering about his chosen profession.
Dr. Ells was staring dejectedly at the phone, when it started ringing, proving that it was still working. So far he had seen only Miss Margaret Ann McCauley’s cat, Jethro, and Mr. Dufford S. Westgate III’s boa constrictor, Dolly. Two patients doesn’t exactly pay the rent.
He grabbed the phone only to hear the screams of a woman in full rhino mode with a French accent.
“Where are you? You miserable excuse for a vet.” She wailed.
“Excuse me?” he replied.
“Doc Martin?”
“No Doctor Ells.”
“Where is that stupide senile old man?”
“He died.”
“Oh mon dieu. (My God) I am sorry for your loss.”
“His loss was my gain.”
“What? Oh never mind. I am Rebecca Force. I NEED A VET! Immediament!”(Now)
“You can make an appointment.”
“Do not mock me! Listen to me! I have a gun pointed at ze phone and I have no more patience.”
“Sounds like a great reason to come.” He drawled.
When she screamed “breech”, he felt a stab of fear and jumped out of his chair. Holding the phone away from his ear, he yelled “Calvary’s on the way, sugar!” He ran for his truck.
Following the directions given by the irate young woman, who was undoubtedly French, he headed toward Le Long chemin de terre (The Long dirt road), that goes to La ferme du grand cheval (The Big Horse Farm). He drove out State road 64 and turned right at the Pink Flamingo Motel onto the long dirt road. Having spent several days as a guest there after he first arrived, he was familiar with the 100 pink flamingos that graced the front lawn. Now he noticed that they had been joined by 25 more pink with purple polka dots and one Neon Flamingo doing a leg lifting, demented dance. A Neon Open sign flashed on and off. Passing the Pepsi machine, he sped down the road leaving a rooster tail a NASCAR driver would have been proud of.
He slammed the brakes on when a horse trailer loomed up in front of him. The trailer was blocking the right lane of the dirt road. Grabbing his bag, Dr. Ells jogged around the back-end of the trailer, literally running into the back end of a young woman. He looked down as he tried to stop her from falling, and was immediately transfixed by her remarkable derrière. (Ass)
She pulled loose and turned to glare at him. Here was a woman who could haunt his dreams or fantasies, if you will. She was just the right height, with long legs and a wealth of curves. He was immediately lost in bright blue eyes, framed by soft blond curls. The lights went out in Texas, as his brain short circuited under the onslaught of those intense blue eyes.
“Wow.” It wasn’t what he meant to say, but with his brain not completely back on track, that’s all he could verbalize.
“Dr. Ells?”
“Yes.”
“Down there.” She said, pointing to a large horse laying in the middle of the road.
The sight of the suffering mare restored Dr. Ells’ faculties. He knelt down and did what he was trained to do. He lifted the mare’s tail and verified that she was indeed giving birth and that the foal was presenting breeched. Pulling on gloves, he pushed the foal back and struggled to reverse its body so the tiny hooves and head were positioned for a normal birth. He pulled his arm out and let nature take its course. It wasn’t long before a front foot popped out and the birth continued until a small, steaming, wet, bedraggled baby was trying to stand on shaky legs.
Rebecca looked at the foal then looked at Dr. Ells, who was pulling off his gloves. Apparently she liked what she saw. She was so overcome with gratitude, she walked over to him and reaching both hands around his neck, pulled his head down and kissed him. Under her onslaught he lost his ability to move or speak, so he moaned. When he did, she kissed him with much more intensity.
Dr. Ells pulled back and caught his breath, looking into her blue eyes. He was now very aware that Rebecca Force was, as everyone in Fantasy knows, a force to be reckoned with. He was inclined to think that reckoning might just be what he was prepared to do.
Dr. Ell’s took Rebecca’s hand and they started walking up the long dirt road. They didn’t stop until they got to the Pepsi machine. Then he pulled Rebecca to him, and he kissed her. His kiss was soft and left plenty of promise.
They shared a Pepsi and were soon alone, except for the 100 pink and 25 purple dotted Flamingos and the one Neon Flamingo doing its demented dance above their heads.
To preserve their modesty, I must stop the story here, except to say that they greatly enjoyed each other’s company.
Mary Clayton Writing 