Frank Crosses Over

His journey begins

Frank Tripping’s mortal soul met its match on the sun-splashed Saturday morning his neighbor, Daria Faloni, unaware Frank was watching from a small, wooded area between their houses, removed the top of her string bikini and lay down on a chaise to sunbathe. Frank, a good Christian man, wasn’t lurking. He was on a mission at the time, an investigation, and Daria was part of his prey, she being a member of a houseful of godless villains.

When, a few minutes earlier, Frank had left his own lawn and rustled through some dense bushes, he hadn’t expected anyone to be in the neighboring backyard. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of the goings-on in the house through the back windows. So when Daria came out of the house Frank froze, surprised. And when she let the sun caress her breasts unimpeded, the calm and luscious half-nudity, along with the bursting life of the late spring foliage and the brilliance of the blue sky above, was all a potentially confusing counterpoint to Frank’s certainty he was spying on the Devil incarnate. Frank had been saved for years, so, as Daria clicked back the top half of the chaise and pulled up her short, smooth legs, there was no question continuing to partake of this forbidden image would ruin his chance to go to heaven. The tumescence that grew all by itself under his tighty-whities was the work of the Devil, to be sure, but since he had the assurance of salvation, continuing to stare at the prone, welcoming body could do Frank no harm, as in long-term, as in eternity. Or so he thought.

Salvation doesn’t necessarily come bundled with wisdom or clairvoyance. As parts of him below the navel swelled like fruit ripening in fast forward, Frank’s bland and regimented universe was taking a major hit. But, blinded by his mission, Frank couldn’t see this.

Notes:

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