Tommie Lyn

Blue Jeans and White Stetsons

This writing prompt story had to be 500 or fewer words and had to include the following words:  pine tree, ball of yarn, pink, ocean and cloud. It was a fun story to write.

Jerry squatted, stood, shook one leg, then the other. The blue jeans still felt stiff. He scowled. He hated giving up the soft, faded comfort of a well-worn pair for the vivid blue of pants off the rack at the mercantile.

"Guess I'll take 'em," he told Marge. 

She glanced up at him when he paid her and smiled.

Still as pretty as a speckled pup, he thought. Even after all these years.

He cleared his throat. "You seen the nostalgia festival down at the Rialto Theater?"

"No."

"'Member when we used to go to the picture show and watch Gene Autry when we was kids?"

"Sure do. That was a long time ago, though."

He scraped the toe of his boot across the tile floor, hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the stiff new jeans, leaned backward onto the counter, and knocked a ball of yarn off a knitting display. He scrambled to pick it up and replace it.

"Aw, shucks," he said in a low voice. "Hey, wanna go with me? To the cowboy serials tonight?"

"Sure." Marge's face turned a bright pink, and she looked away from him.

"Starts at six. Can I pick you up?"

"Yeah. You can come by here. I get off work at five-thirty."

* * *

"That was fun," Marge said as they left the theater. "And I liked seeing the good guys wearing their white stetsons. Nowadays, you cain't hardly tell who the good guys are anymore."

The street was nearly deserted. Too late, he realized there was a group of young boys leaning against the brick wall of the building close to the alley. He positioned himself between Marge and the boys.

"Yo. Old man. You got any money on you?" said the one with a pine tree tatoo on his forearm.

"Just keep walking," Jerry said under his breath to Marge.

"That ain't nice, just ignoring us like that," another boy said. He left the wall and sauntered toward Jerry and Marge.

Jerry stepped in front of Marge and faced the young punk.

"Listen, son, you don't want trouble with me. Just walk away."

The boy laughed. "You mean, you don't want trouble with us. Ooo, Mama," he said, leering at Marge. "You tired of this oldster? 'Cause he gonna be gone."

Jerry reached out, grabbed the boy by the arm, slung him down, around and shoved him into a parking meter, head first before his companions could react. The boy collapsed onto the pavement, and the others backed away.

"How'd you do that, old man?"

Jerry said nothing. He walked slowly toward them, then, suddenly jumped at them and said, "Boo!"

The punks ran.

Marge looked up at Jerry, an ocean of emotion showing in her eyes. "You're still the hero in the white hat, aren't you? You always were." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

"Darlin', I'm only a beat up ol' cowboy that your kiss just put on cloud nine."