California Girl
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California Girls free porn video
Tales Of Dinjinnar: California Girls (In Memory Of Carl Wilson)
By Cabinessence
"You are so pathetic Tom. I bet you couldn't get laid, even if you were
the last man on earth!!!"
Does that sound familiar? Well that's exactly how my last date with
Lois ended. I know now, and probably knew even before I asked her,
although I didn't allow myself to admit it, that she really only went out with
me because I was able to obtain second row seats for a Barry Manilow
concert. It was because I had this connection to get really great seats, that I
could at least get attractive women to at least go out with me. But at the end of
the night I would always run into the same inevitable scenario. Hell, I felt that
I should be getting kickbacks from Excedrin for all the headaches I had
brought on. Most attractive women won't even acknowledge that I exist on
the same physical plane as they do unless they want something from me.
Their eyes seemed to avoid me like the plague, as if unattractiveness was
something that they could catch.
I do know why Lois didn't want to get physical with me that night,
well who besides some unrealistically optimistic Hollywood scriptwriters
could blame her. She was, after all, one of the prettiest girls at work,
and I'm a slightly overweight, slightly balding, four eyed geek. All the
time that we were at the concert and even earlier at dinner, she couldn't
help reminding anyone she knew or ever hoped to know better that we ran
into that I was only just a friend. Still, I wanted to keep some fragment
of the fantasy alive until at least the final encore. I knew that nothing
carnal was ever going to happen, but I figured I'd try for it anyway. Hey,
if the government wants to spend 40 million dollars to find out if Clinton
got a blow job in the oval orifice, er office, I could spend a hundred
dollars to find out if I could invoke some kind of sexual response from
Lois. (Of course I don't believe Clinton could have done it, after all
Hillary is the one with balls in the family)
So I made this slightly suggestive remark to her as I brought her
back to her apartment. I didn't want to give her time to feign some lame
excuse. That is what provoked the response you read above. She then
slammed the car door in disgust and I watched her disappear in the doorway
along with my hopes for another chance. And for those that are wondering, I
have tried to date women on my own attractiveness scale, but this too seemed
doomed to failure. It seems that these women only wanted to date men who
would increase their standing in the dating hierarchy, not merely reaffirm
it.
I had a rough time trying to get to bed after that, feeling sorry
for myself, but I finally fell asleep about three AM. I was later awakened
by the sound of the mailman dropping mail into the slot of my front door.
In my daze I got out of bed and went to retrieve it. There on the floor was
the new Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the annual catalogue of women
who would never in a million years go out with me. That is unless I
suddenly became rich or handsome. Yeah, I wish. As I flipped through the
magazine, I noticed this beautiful blonde clad in a thousand dollar bikini.
I took the magazine into the bathroom and masturbated to the picture,
accidentally spraying my sperm all over the picture. Well hey, might as
well let those doomed buggers share in the fantasy too.
At least it was Saturday, I had a whole two days to prepare myself for
what would be said behind my back at the office on Monday. I figured that
maybe I could gain some shred of mercy and lessen the barbs she would fling
at my expense by getting her a small gift. I knew that she liked antiques,
so I went over to a new antique's shop that had just opened a few miles
away from me. I noticed that the owner was Arabic, the turban was a dead
giveaway. There were a lot of nice items there, I noticed a pile of very
ornate rugs rolled up in a corner.
"Do any of them fly?" I asked jokingly.
"Sorry sir no, the FAA has banned the sale and importation of flying
carpets in America since they cannot be picked up on radar and may cause
problems with commercial aircraft."
Ask a silly question, I thought. Then I saw this beautiful bead
embroidered bottle on a shelf. It wasn't that big, it was perhaps some kind
of ancient perfume bottle. I wondered if Cleopatra had her own line of
fragrances like Elizabeth Taylor, probably called something like "Nile
Morning" or even the suggestive "Bite Me". The sixty dollar price tag I
felt was a mere penance to pay to keep my ass from turning into grass on
Monday morning. So I picked it up and brought it to the counter.
"Ah saheeb, maybe you have picked up a lucky bottle"
"Why is there a message under the cap that I have won a bottle of
Pepsi or maybe a trip to Mecca?"
"No sir, there is a legend that certain of these bottles may contain
members of the Djinn, a type of genie that can grant your every wish."
"Yeah sure, and which of these bottles have you been drinking out of?
After what happened to me last night I wouldn't mind a swig or two of it
myself."
"I am not drunk, sir. No, many years ago members of the djinn were
imprisoned in just these type of bottles and they are bound to grant wishes
to those persons who free them from the bottle."
"Look I was going to buy it anyway without the Aladdin tie in. This is
a gift for an adult. If I were interested in an Aladdin souvenir, I would
have gone to the Disney Store. "
"This has nothing to do with Aladdin, that was just a cartoon, this is
real I assure you. This is a legend that has been passed down through
centuries. We even carry the book "Everything You Wanted To Know About
The Djinn, But Were Afraid To Ask" as well as "Secrets Of The Djinn Of The
Rich And Famous: How To Live Right And Wish Right " here in the store if
you need more proof."
"No, just the bottle will be fine."
"Well the second book does have a forward by Barbara Eden as well as
outtake pictures of her navel. Now will that be cash, Visa, or
Mastercard?"
"Visa".
I took the bottle back home to my apartment. I sat it down on the
table. It was really quite beautiful, the perfect thing for Lois. I
wondered if it actually once contained perfume, so I removed the cap to
take a sniff. A foul smelling smoke came streaming out almost choking me.
I sat the bottle down as the smoke continued to flow and take shape.
"That smells awful!"
"I am sorry master, but with being stuck in this bottle it has been hard
to obtain an air freshener for the past four hundred years."
"Who are you?" I said as the disembodied voice suddenly had a body. It
looked a lot like MC Hammer with pale green sweat pants and vest. Hmm so
that's where he ended up.
"I am Manasha of the teal djinn."
"The teal djinn?"
'Well master, all of the really impressive colors were already taken
before I could choose. And of course everyone wanted to be the black djinn
and when they couldn't be that they became the ebony djinn or the indigo
djinn. Who are they trying to kid, really? But hell, even those colors were
gone when it was my turn. You may wonder, so how did I get here? Well, I
was sealed inside my bottle by an angry member of the pink djinn over four
hundred years ago. Well you'd be angry too if you were stuck being the pink
djinn for all eternity. Who would take you seriously? Okay, now here's the
bottom line, for freeing me from my bottle I will grant you one wish."
"I thought that was three wishes."
"I am trying to cut down. The granting of wishes can become very
addictive. I just finished the three step program over at Grantaholics
Anonymous. Besides every time I am summoned out of that bottle I create all
this smoke and we all know what your scientists have found about the
effects of second hand smoke on humans. And it is against Djinn law to
consciously cause harm to your master unless he wishes it so."
"This is just too weird."
"What is really weird are those djinn who suffer from claustrophobia.
They go completely crazy being cooped up in that small bottle for
centuries. I'm sure they would kill themselves if they weren't already
immortal."
"Well what can I wish for?" I figured I'd change the subject before
this turned into a lecture on genie psychology.
"First you can't wish for more wishes, everyone tries that. Secondly, I
cannot do physical harm to anyone. Thirdly I cannot make someone fall in
love with you, but I can make her horny enough to want to jump your bones,
so it makes that condition a bit less painful. Hey, I am a genie not a
matchmaker. And finally I cannot hand over to you any information from
Ken Starr's office."
"Why is that?"
"Well Newsweek's genie already has exclusive rights to that. Don't look
surprised, a lot of media outlets use various djinn to help them out. The
Weekly World News has employed a whole staff of investigative djinn to
create all kinds of wild stuff for them. You don't think all those mermaids
and half dog, half babies and Elvis and JFK simulations were false do you?"
"I guess I did. Well since I have only one wish I'd better take my
time and think it over. Can I get back to you later?"
"After four hundred years, a few moments are but a trifle. I will be in
my bottle listening for your wish, Master". And with that the djinn turned
back into smoke and was sucked back into it's bottle.
Trying to relax and clear my head in order to word my wish for optimum
performance, I laid down on my bed and turned on some soothing music. I
really like to listen to oldies in the background while I relax, so I
turned on the local oldies station here in Berenger. It was one of those
stations that mix the hits of the 50's, 60's, 70's and 80's without a clue
as to what they are doing.
"Hi this is WDJN, your oldies source in Berenger Nebraska, and we are
sad to announce the death last night of Beach Boy Carl Wilson from lung
cancer. Carl Wilson had been the Beach Boys lead guitarist and often took
over the lead vocals on many of the Beach Boy hits. While undergoing
chemotherapy for both lung and brain cancer last summer, he still was able
to tour with the Beach Boys. We broadcast one of their concerts live last
June from the Yanni Cultural Arts Center. In the memory of this true legend
of Rock N' Roll, we are pleased to bring you a rebroadcast of that
concert."
The Beach Boys were one of my favorite groups and I felt sad that Carl
Wilson had passed away. As I relaxed in bed trying to figure out what my
wish would be I found myself singing along with the very well
known and infectious lyrics.
"We'll have fun, fun, fun til' our daddy takes the T-Bird away."
"Round, round get around, I get around."
"My little surfer girl, my little surfer girl"
Then Mike Love launched into California Girls and as he does in
concert changed the "they" to "you" in a gesture towards the audience.
Trouble is I never realized what trouble that lyric change would do until
after I sang it.
"I wish you all could be California, I wish you all could be
California Girls"
I barely had time to realize what I had done when a voice came
booming out.
"Your wish has been granted. Noted that all our affairs are done in
full."
"What wish has been granted? I was just singing along with the music."
"You wished that they all could be California Girls, so now everyone
but you is. If you had said I wish we all could be California Girls, you
would have become a beautiful blonde bikinied teenage girl as well as every
other human being on the planet. But hey it's your wish, I don't know why
should I be explaining it to you. Hope you enjoy it ex-master."
As the djinn and the bottle vanished I noticed that the music had
stopped for the news. The newscaster sounded like a young girl speaking in
a kind of dialect that I had heard once on a Frank Zappa record.
"The President has called for like further sanctions against Iran for
cosmetic rights violations. The Aitollah Sherry has been ordering her
people to only use green toenail polish. Gross! I mean gag me with a spoon
and a fork. So the Sweet and Low embargo that began last month is now set
to include Secret deodorant, Kotex Maxi Pads, and Summer's Eve douches.
Sock it to em' Ms. C. And final testing has begun on a new bikini that will
not leave tan lines and will protect against those naughty ultra violet
rays. Boy, that sounds real bitchin'."
I turned off the radio and decided to go outside to see what the
total effect of my wish had been. I didn't seem to notice any of my usual
neighbors, just a group of very sexy blonde bikini clad teenagers hanging
out and giggling on the corner. I didn't see anyone looking even remotely
male or over the age of twenty. I decided to get into my car and drive
around to see what the extent was of the damage that my wish had caused.
I soon noticed that a steady stream of traffic was headed straight
for the mall, so I decided to follow them. When I got there, I noticed that
the only people there were beautiful blue eyed blonde women with curvy
figures dressed only in bikinis. There were no males to be found anywhere
here either. Even all the shops that catered to men such as clothing stores
were now tanning and bikini waxing salons. The women's clothing stores
seem to only sell bikinis. Not all of the women were completely identical, but
they all seemed to be of college or high school age and they all had long
blonde hair. They were all distinguished only by their height, bust size,
and amount of freckles spread over their bodies. And yet none of them
seemed to notice me, the only male in their midst, as their eyes kept
averting mine.
Was this all real, the result of my wish, or had I unknowingly
stepped on the set of "Night Of The Living Barbie's? If it was real, how
far had it spread? I noticed the headline in the USA Today that showed a
picture of a conference of African leaders. They too were all blondes in
bikinis, what distinguished them as being African was that their hair was
done in braids, ala Bo Derek in "Ten". As I continued walking through the
mall, none of the women still seemed to notice me even if I stared right at
them. It was becoming more apparent that I was in a world where I didn't
belong, a world of the beautiful people. The words of an old Melaine song
swirled in my mind. Horrors!! Perhaps if I were more physically attractive
this would be heaven, but as it was, it was becoming more like hell. I felt like
I would always be left standing outside the Studio 54 of life.
I felt defeated, if only I had one more wish so that I could join them
too. Even if it meant losing myself to attain the norm. Like all beautiful
women I had known before, they ignored my existence even though I
thought that now I was probably the last man on earth. They were all
searching for something that they felt I couldn't provide them, ignoring the
futility and ultimate consequences of their course of action. Had their own
ideals gotten so inflexible and selfish to threaten the very future of humanity?
Would the artificial standards of beauty that we had set up as a society
lead us to the final apocalypse?
Surrounded by the crowds, I felt alone. I shouted "Someone notice
me, somebody love me" but the words were only left echoing into silence.
Then suddenly I realized that Lois was right. I was the last man on earth
and I still couldn't get laid.
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