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Flam 03
Jason ran his fingers through his thick, black, Mediterranean hair
as he entered the lodge for lunch. This was the highlight of the
day: Cheeseburer time! He couldn't wait to taste that melted
cheddar. He shed his hat and Burton snowboarding jacket, though
he didn't really snowboard. He just sat in the lodge and pretended
he was an expert snowboarder. He dubbed himself Herc, short for
Hercules. The girls swooned at the sight of him and those muscles,
and that deep bronze tan. His parents were Intell magnates and
could afford all the top-of-the-line equipment, though Jason failed
to teel them that during the day at the slopes, he didn't even
sit his butt down on a chairlift. They were too scary. Ever since
Jason was a wee lad, he had all sorts of phobias: spiders, cats,
ladders, forks, knives, you name it, he was scared, but one thing
he wasn't scared of was fine girls. They came in plenty.
Jason, or Herc, would smile his devishly handsome grin, to those
wee babes. They would toss their hair back and swing their hips
as they neared his table. "Hey, handsome," they would whisper
breathlessly.
"Hi!" he squeaked. They ignored his squeaky voice, for they were
mesmerized by his handsome face and figure. Despite all the
burgers, Jason remained lean and strong.
The girl took a pen out of her snowbib and said, "God, I have to
have your number!"
Jason screamed, "Get that pen away from me! 911, call 911, this
girl's gonna sexually harass me! I don't have to take it! HELP!
