by Harold N. Walters
Harry had lusted after Jennifer Aniston since he first saw her on Friends. Then one lucky day in a busy airport he saw her step onto the Down escalator from the passenger lounge, a Bluetooth phone clipped to her left ear. Enchanted, Harry leapt like Lochinvar onto the Up escalator, his Bluetooth fastened to his left ear. When they met at midpoint their phone signals mingled, and as if experiencing a Vulcan mind-meld, Harry and Jennifer saw into each other's head. Harry saw Jennifer’s luscious silken underwear and leered. Startled, Jennifer scowled, but then she smirked, and Harry, crestfallen, knew the reason why — she’d seen his moth-eaten, threadbare, baggy boxers.
Harold N. Walters lives in Newfoundland, the Canadian province that contains the remnants of the Appalachian Mountain Range; the Canadian province fondly called "The Rock."