Nothing to Worry About

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

Two lovably wicked old ladies find a bewildered young man sitting in his underwear at a bus stop on a cold night. they think of ways in which the situation might be turned to their advantage.

Nothing to Worry About

Dennis knew the movie must be nearing its end. All the bad guys had been killed except the evil boss who was currently slugging it out with the hero in a final battle to the death. Experience told Dennis that the fight would go on for a long time. He couldn’t wait to see how it would end; he was busting for the loo!

‘Aw man!’ he muttered. ‘I gotta go!’ He lurched to his feet and stumbled toward the aisle, leaving in his wake a row of bruised feet and angry expletives. From there, he had a clear run to the nearest convenience. He dashed inside and saw a row of cubicles along one wall and a row of wash basins along another. But where were the urinals? ‘Aw man!’ he cried. ‘This is the ladies’ room!’

Common sense told him to get out of there pretty damned quick, but the call of nature was not to be denied. He dashed into the nearest cubicle, slammed the door and relieved himself without taking time to raise the toilet seat. If he had done that at home … oh my! But he wasn’t at home, so it wasn’t his problem.

Having taken care of his immediate need, he zipped himself up and reached for the door. The movie would surely be ending by now, and the convenience would soon be swarming with patrons bent on making a comfort stop before heading home. Whoa! That was a scary thought. What if he were caught lurking in the ladies’ loo like a … a … Wait! The door was stuck!! AW MAN! The lock must have broken when he slammed the door.

Dennis struggled with the door but the lock was firmly jammed. A piece had broken right off. He was trapped. This can’t be happening. Panic got the better of him. He started beating upon the door with his fists. ‘Get me out of here!’ he yelled.

Almost at once, the outer door burst open and women and girls began clattering and chattering their way into the room. Dennis clammed up. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! He retreated to the back of the cubicle and cringed there in anticipation of discovery. But by sheer good luck, he had stopped making a noise moments before the door opened. If anyone had heard the commotion, they had no idea where it came from.

Now Dennis was glad that the lock was broken. He couldn’t get out, but nor could anyone get in. Even so, he was a nervous wreck by the time the chattering and clattering diminished and finally ceased. He waited a while longer before he thought it would be safe to leave the cubicle.

His only way out was over the partition into the next cubicle. He climbed up using various wall mounted fixtures as steps. But as he clambered down the other side, a toilet roll holder broke under his weight. He fell down the rest of the way, bounced off the toilet pan, and ended up in an undignified heap on the floor. ‘Aw man!’ he groaned. He climbed to his feet and headed for the exit. As he passed by the jammed door, he gave it one more angry punch. Perversely, the door popped open. ‘Aargh!’

Dennis stomped back to the auditorium. It was empty now. He must have been locked in the loo for longer than he thought, but that was okay. He knew where the nearest fire exit was. A push on the panic bar was all it took to open the door. Dennis stepped into an alley that led down the side of the theatre to the street. It was dimly lit and disturbingly spooky. About half-way down the alley, a disembodied voice brought him to a halt.

‘Hey, bro!’ called the voice. ‘You got any money?’

Dennis froze for a moment, and then relaxed. It was just a girl, and a young one from the sound of her voice. He turned round to see where she was. ‘Can’t help you,’ he said. ‘I’m flat broke.’ That was almost true. He had a little cash on him, but he needed that for his bus fare.

‘Wrong answer,’ whispered a new voice from behind him.

‘Aw man!’ said Dennis. ‘She’s not alone.’

Then he felt a blow—and everything went black.


Dennis Blatt was a sixteen-year-old misogynist. He hadn’t always been that way. Up to the age of five years, he had been a normal well adjusted little boy who loved his mother dearly. But then his mother died and his father had remarried so that his son wouldn’t have to grow up without a mother.

That turned out to be a dreadful mistake. Dennis’ stepmother hated boys. She tolerated Dennis because she wanted his father’s money. But she didn’t have to like him. She brought two daughters into the marriage. They were bone-lazy girls who conspired with their mother to burden Dennis with an endless list of household chores. They kept him in hand-me-down rags and punished him often. It was small wonder that Dennis grew up to hate and fear anyone who had the misfortune to be borne female.

Dennis’ dad didn’t like the way they treated his son, but he was a wimp. One glare from his wife was enough to make him wilt like a weed in a waterless wilderness. He ought to have left her and taken Dennis with him, but he had foolishly signed a prenuptial agreement that would leave him penniless if he left her. All he could do was wait for a time when he could help Dennis without getting him in worse trouble.

That time arrived on Dennis’ sixteenth birthday—the age at which he could leave home legally without parental consent. Only three things stopped him. He had nowhere to go, he had no money, and he had no respectable clothes.

Mr Blatt took care of those needs by setting Dennis up with a place of his own, buying him some decent clothes, and opening a bank account with enough money to tide him over until he could get a job. Thus prepared, Dennis disappeared from the family home on the day after his sixteenth birthday.

Mrs Blatt was furious. The young scoundrel had run off without even starting his daily chores. ‘I’m calling the police,’ she declared.

‘That would be unwise,’ said Mr Blatt. ‘You can still see the marks of the last beating you gave him.’

‘Humph. Who’s going to do his chores then?’

‘You have two daughters to help you with those.’

‘Aargh!’ wailed Mrs Blatt. ‘What did I do to deserve this?’

‘Quite a lot, actually,’ said Mr Blatt, and nimbly ducked the coffee mug that she threw at him.


Dennis woke up disoriented. He knew he wasn’t in his bed because whatever he was lying on was much too hard—and his head hurt. He groaned. His senses returned slowly. The last thing he remembered was leaving the theatre and walking toward the street. And then…and then…yes, a girl asked him for money. He refused…and then he heard a voice behind him, and everything went blank. The little cow must have had an accomplice. Maybe a boyfriend. Maybe a girlfriend. Maybe a whole gang of ‘em.

He felt chilly lying on the cold surface of the alley. The crooks had left him in nothing but his underwear and socks. His shirt, jacket, designer jeans and shoes were all gone—and all of them brand new that day. And with them went everything that he had in his pockets. He climbed unsteadily to his feet and waited for the alley to stop spinning. The rough paving hurt the tender soles of his feet. ‘Aw man!’ he said.

He walked gingerly to the street, taking care to avoid the roughest ground, and sank onto a bench by a bus stop. There weren’t many people about. Just a couple of old ladies.

Mabel and Clara were lovable old dears who earned their living kidnapping wealthy men and taking some of the weight out of their wallets. They never stole much. The victim would wonder what he had spent his money on, but he never suspected that it had been stolen. Nor did he remember spending time with the two charming old ladies. Clara was a skilled alchemist who took care of that with one of her potions. It gave the victim just a short term loss of memory. Nothing to worry about, really.

Tonight, the ladies had been out of luck. There were few men alone on the streets, and none of them looked wealthy enough to be worth kidnapping. Then Mabel spied the strange boy sitting at the bus stop in his muddy underpants.

‘Oh look, Clara,’ said Mabel. ‘There’s a young man sitting on that bench. He doesn’t look very well.’

‘Do you think he’s rich?’ enquired Clara.

‘It’s hard to tell. He’s not wearing any clothes.’

‘He must be a pervert,’ said Clara, reaching into her bag for a can of pepper spray.

‘No, I think he’s been mugged.’

‘Mugged?’ Clara reluctantly released her grip on the pepper spray.

‘Yes. I think someone hit him on the head and stole all his things.’

‘What makes you think that, love?’

‘It’s hardly the time or place for the young man to be sunbathing, dear.’

‘Oh, the poor lad. We should take him home.’

‘Whatever for? He’s got no money, and nobody would want to buy his socks and underpants.’

‘Perhaps not, but we could sell him.’

‘Clara! How could you think of doing such a thing?’

‘We’ve done it before.’

‘Yes, but that one was such a horrible man. We did the world a favour.’

‘True … but this one’s such a fine looking boy. He should be worth something to somebody.’ She paused and took another look at Dennis, taking in his slim, well proportioned body. ‘Maybe we should take him home anyway and have a wee think about it.’

‘No, not for ransom. That’s much too risky.’

‘How about a finder’s fee then? The Hunk-i-Tonk Club is always looking for young dancers. Madam DeVine would pay us a handsome finder’s fee for such a fine looking boy.’

‘But we don’t know a thing about him. He might not want to be a dancer.’

‘Then let’s take him home and find out, shall we? If it doesn’t work out, a drop of potion will make him forget all about us.’

Dennis heard them chatting, and looked up. The old bats were staring at him in a most disturbing manner. ‘What are you staring at?’ he demanded.

‘Are you feeling alright, dear?’ asked Mabel.

‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘You look lost, sitting there in nothing but your muddy underpants.’

‘Go away! I’m just having a rest before heading home.’

‘I really think you should let us take you home in our car. You’ll catch your death of cold if you stay here like that.’

Dennis didn’t want any help from these old trout. They were women, weren’t they? Oh god how he hated them all! On the other hand, he was a long way from home, and he had no hope of walking all that way in what was left of his socks. Perhaps he would be wise to swallow his pride and accept their help. Just a ride home in their car. Nothing to worry about, really.

‘Well, okay,’ he muttered. ‘I guess I could use a bit of help. Is your car parked near here?’

‘Not far, dear,’ said Clara. ‘Just down the street a little way.’

Dennis stood up, swayed, and almost fell. Mabel and Clara each grabbed an arm and half carried him to their car. Clara climbed into the driving seat. Mabel rode shotgun. Dennis sat jammed between the two of them. ‘There would be more room for me in the back,’ he said, embarrassed by their proximity to his unclothed body.

‘You’ll be warmer here in front with us,’ said Mabel, resting a cold bony hand on his thigh. Dennis shuddered.

‘What is your name, dear?’

‘Dennis. Dennis Blatt.’

‘Denise? How strange. But it’s a lovely name.’

‘Not Denise—Dennis!’

‘Of course. Silly of me. And how old are you, Dennis?’

‘Six…’ He stopped. Should I be telling them my name and my age?

‘You look a lot older than six, dear,’ said Mabel. ‘More like sixteen I think.’

Ah, what the hell … ‘Yeah, since yesterday,’ he said. ‘Look, I’m not a kid any more. I can look after myself.’

‘Those marks on your body. They were made by a cane or riding crop, weren’t they?

Dennis said nothing.

‘Was it your father? Your mother?

Dennis said nothing.

You know you are old enough to leave your family home. Don’t you?’

‘I already did! Please, I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘You ran away from home?’

‘Yeah, I suppose I did. But it’s legal now that I’m sixteen.’

‘So … nobody in the whole world knows where you are right now?’

Dennis looked at Mabel and frowned. ‘What are you getting at?’

‘Nothing really. Clara and I just wondered if someone might be worrying about you.’

‘I doubt that,’ said Dennis.

‘Was it your father?’

‘How did you know?’

‘Only a man would beat his son like that. He must be terribly cruel.’

‘No, no! You’ve got it all wrong. He didn’t beat me. He helped me run away. He’s a good man but he’s terrified of my stepmother. The only way he could protect me was to get me away from her.’

‘Oh, goodness me!’ exclaimed Clara. ‘It was your stepmother who beat you? That is just awful.’

‘And my stepsisters,’ Dennis added. ‘They took turns with a riding crop.’

‘Oh dear me,’ said Mabel. ‘When did this happen?’


They drove on in silence for a while. Then Dennis looked up and said, ‘You’re going the wrong way!’

‘Oh no, dear.’ said Clara. This is the way we always go.’

‘But I live in the other direction. You said you would take me home!’

‘Not your home, you silly boy,’ said Mabel. ‘I meant to our home. You’ve been hurt and you need someone to look after you.’

‘No!’ said Dennis. ‘I don’t want to go to your place. Turn around!’ Clara drove straight on. Dennis lunged for the steering wheel. The car swerved and might have crashed if Clara hadn’t stepped hard on the brake pedal. She glanced across at Mabel. ‘My bag!’ she said. Mabel nodded and reached for Clara’s bag. She withdrew what looked like a dart gun and shot Dennis in the arm. Dennis went to sleep.


Dennis woke up next morning in a comfortable bed in a room that he did not recognise. I’ve been kidnapped! He jumped out of bed and promptly jumped back in again. He was naked! Aw man.

‘What are the old biddies hoping to get out of this?’ he asked the empty room.

Just then, the door opened and Mabel breezed in. ‘Ah, you are awake!’ she said as she flung the drapes open and let the morning sun flood the bedroom. ‘You can come and join us in the kitchen for breakfast now.’

‘I can’t’

‘Why not?’

‘I’m naked.’

‘Goodness me, dear. That won’t worry us. Clara and I are old enough to be your grandmothers.’

‘What have you done with my underpants?’

‘They were all muddy. I put them in the wash.’

‘Are you going to beat me?’

‘Why do you think we would do such a thing?’

‘Because I nearly crashed the car last night.’

‘Yes, you deserve a good spanking for that, but Clara and I abhor violence, so let’s just forget it, shall we? We want to help you.’

‘I don’t need help.’

‘Of course you do. I’ll lend you a dressing gown so you can join us for breakfast and we’ll have a talk about it.’

The meal of bacon and eggs was excellent. Dennis hadn’t realised how hungry he was. Perhaps the old girls really did mean well.

‘Tell me, Denise—’


‘Ah yes, Dennis, what do you do for a living—or do you still go to school?’

‘I’ve left school. I haven’t got a job yet but I’ll get one. My dad gave me money to tide me over until I can pay my own way.’

‘Have you ever thought of going into show business?’

‘No chance of that. I didn’t even get a part in the school play. The girls got all the best parts, including parts that were meant for boys. I hate girls.’

‘What if you could get into a show that doesn’t have any girls?’

‘You mean … like a boys’ choir or something? I’m not much of a singer.’

‘Can you dance?’

‘Jeez no!’

‘Have you ever tried?’


‘You ought to give it a go. You have the physique of a ballerino.’

Dennis choked on a piece of bacon. ‘A ballerina??

‘No, dear,’ said Clara. ‘She said ballerino. A leading male ballet dancer.’

‘Well, said Mabel. ‘He’s a bit skinny for a ballerino. Perhaps a flat chested ballerina.’

‘Aw, you’re just putting me on, right?’ Dennis protested. ‘Even if I liked ballet, it takes years and years of training. And the guys have to wear those poncey tights.’

‘It doesn’t have to be ballet,’ said Mabel. ‘And I agree with you. Ballet wouldn’t be best for you, but you would make a fine poser.’

‘What’s a poser?

‘Someone who poses. It’s like dancing, but without all the leaping and jumping about. When I saw you in your underwear last night, I thought to myself, you ought to be on stage. The audience will go gaga over a body like yours. And you have such a handsome face.’

‘Nah. My stepmother says I’ve got a face like the bum of a baboon.’

‘Rubbish,’ said Mabel. ‘A boy like you belongs on stage.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘It’s more than right. You are just the kind of performer that Madam Delicia DeVine needs. She puts on a regular show at the Hunk-i-Tonk Club.’

‘That sounds sleazy. Why would people pay to come and see me posing in my underwear?’

‘Well, for starters, you wouldn’t be in your underwear. You’d have a decent costume to wear. And you wouldn’t be just posing. You’d have to move to the beat of the music. And pretend to sing.’


‘Lip sync.’

‘Lip sink?’ Dennis grinned. ‘Like when you lose your dentures?’

‘Please be serious, Denise.’


‘Dennis. It means you look like you are singing, but the voice is recorded.’

‘Yeah, well, that’s not for me. I’ll find myself a proper job, one where I don’t have to look like a belly dancer.’



‘So … you’re not interested in a stage career? Not even a tiny bit?’

‘Nah.’ Dennis glanced at Mabel and then at Clara. ‘You seem disappointed.’

‘It’s just that Madam DeVine is offering a finder’s fee for talented young men like you—and we’d be helping you get a good job.’

‘So that’s it. You think you can make a few bucks selling me to some sleazy club.’

‘Oh, come now Dennis,’ said Mabel. ‘Yes, we could make a little money on the side, but you’d be getting a good job too. This could be the start of a great career for you. You could be famous. And the girls would—’.

‘Don’t go there!’ interrupted Dennis stiffly. ‘Thank you for breakfast, but I’d like to go home now.’

‘Now let’s not be hasty about this,’ said Clara, pouring Dennis a glass of milk.

‘No, Clara,’ said Mabel. ‘He’s right. We have no right to push him into a job that he doesn’t want. We’ll just have to ring Delicia and tell her that we aren’t coming.’

‘You’ve already spoken to her?’ asked Dennis.

‘I rang her last night and told her about you. She was most enthusiastic. But never mind. Drink up your milk, and then you can go.’

‘You won’t stop me?’

‘Of course not. You’re our guest, not our prisoner. The front door’s that way, and it’s not locked. Leave my dressing gown in the hall when you go, and close the door behind you.’

‘What? I … but … can’t you … Aw jeez, lady. I can’t walk home in my underpants. I don’t even know where home is from here … and without shoes….’

‘That’s your choice, dear.’ said Clara. ‘But do drink up your milk before you go. We don’t want to waste it.’

Dennis sipped at his milk while he pondered the impossible pickle he was in. ‘Okay,’ he said at last. ‘Suppose I meet this DeVine woman. Could I go home then?’

‘You’d have to stay with her for assessment or we’d lose our finder’s fee. After that, you could leave. She might not want you anyway.’

Dennis took another sip of milk. ‘How long would that take?’

‘Just a week.’

‘A week!!’

‘That’s not very long, dear. What else would you have been doing for the next week?’

‘How much will you get?’

‘That’s not very important—’

‘How much?’

‘$1000,’ said Mabel.

‘Cor! That’s a lot.’

Mabel said nothing.

Clara said nothing.

They waited.

‘No,’ said Dennis at last. ‘I can see why you want to do this, but I have a bit of a problem with women.’

‘We’re not all like your stepmother and stepsisters, you know,’ said Clara.

‘Yeah, but Madam DeVine would be my boss, and there’s bound to be girls in the cast. I couldn’t face that.’

‘No,’ said Mabel. ‘No girls. It’s an all-male cast’.

Dennis thought about that. ‘Then I suppose the audience will be mostly female,’ he said.

‘You’ll perform on a stage. You won’t have to go down into the audience.’

‘You can’t be sure of that. No, I’m sorry about your fee, but I’d just as soon face a cage of lions. If you won’t take me home, will you please at least lend me money for a taxi.’

Mabel looked at Dennis in silence for a while. Then she said, ‘Of course, dear. But there’s no need to rush off. You finish your milk and I’ll see what I can find for you to wear home.’

Relieved, Dennis sat back and drained the rest of his milk. Everything would be okay now. A feeling of euphoria washed over him. That was nice, but the milk made him feel sleepy. His mind wandered. Such nice old ladies … maybe … maybe I could … Then he slept.

‘I think we’ve got him,’ smiled Clara, removing his dirty plate from under his face and replacing it with a folded towel.

‘What did you put in his milk?’ asked Mabel.

‘It’s a new potion I’ve been working on. When he wakes up, he’ll feel compelled to please everyone. We’ll get our finder’s fee alright—if Delicia likes him.’

‘She will, but I don’t want the boy to come to any harm.’

‘He’ll be fine. Delicia will take good care of him.’

Two hours later, Dennis woke up. ‘Uh … sorry,’ he said. ‘I must have dozed off.’

‘That’s fine,’ said Mabel. ‘I found you a raincoat and a pair of gumboots that should fit. You’ll look weird but we won’t make you walk home. We’ll drive you—and you don’t have to pay for the ride. ’

‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Dennis.

‘Oh?’ said Mabel.

‘Maybe we ought to go and see Madam DeVine. It’s just for a week, and you deserve your finder’s fee after all you’ve done for me. As long as you’re sure there are no girls in her show. I couldn’t cope with that.’


‘Okay then. I’ll give it a go—but if Madam DeVine gets rough, I’m out of there’.

Mabel fetched the raincoat. It was unisex, but the gumboots were lime green and decorated with daisies. ‘I’m going to look like a weird flasher,’ groaned Dennis.

‘One of the cast will lend you something decent to wear,’ said Clara, ‘till you can get more clothes of your own.’


A matinee performance was under way when they arrived at the club. Delicia liked the look of Dennis from the moment she saw him. He did his best to please everybody. Contracts were signed, a fee changed hands, and everyone smiled.

Then the potion that Dennis had taken began to wear off. Aw man! He had just signed on to Delicia’s dance troupe for a whole year!! What on earth made me do that? He turned to Mabel. ‘I think I’ve just made a dreadful mistake.’

‘Why is that, dear?’

‘All this … glitzy fluffiness. It’s all a bit too much for me. I can’t do it. We need to tell Madam DeVine that I’ve changed my mind.’

‘I’m afraid it’s too late for that, dear. It was your idea to sign on for a whole year. We only wanted you to stay for a week.’

‘But I didn’t know what I was doing. I …’

A bevy of chorus girls suddenly burst from a dressing room and headed for the stage. They were gorgeously adorned in feathers, frills and itty-bitty little skirts.

Dennis was aghast. He glared at Mabel. ‘You said there wouldn’t be girls!’

Mabel looked back at him in surprise. ‘They aren’t girls, dear.’

‘What?? You mean …’

‘Oh dear. Didn’t we tell you?’


Dennis was not happy at finding himself signed up as an apprentice drag queen. He had no idea how that happened. The last thing he could remember was waking up in the alley with a sore head. He thought at first that he had been shanghaied, but Delicia seemed quite nice—for a woman—and managed to convince him otherwise. She would not release him from his contract however.

It took Dennis a while to get used to performing in frills, feathers, and fishnet stockings, but the applause was intoxicating, and he responded well to training. When his contract came up for renewal, he surprised Delicia by signing on for another year. But he didn’t do it for her. He did it because he was falling in love with the makeup girl and hadn’t yet found the courage to tell her.

Mabel and Clara became regular patrons. They would smile and give Dennis little waves whenever they caught his eye. He wondered what made the old girls so interested in him. Clara’s potion had wiped his memory of them, so he was unaware of having appointed them as his theatrical agents. The crafty old birds were now collecting 10% of everything he earned as a drag queen.

This was the best con that Mabel and Clara had ever pulled. But it was good for Dennis too. He was all but cured of his misogyny, he was well on the road to fame and fortune, and he was falling in love with the girl he would marry. And for all that, Clara’s potion had caused him no greater harm than a short term loss of memory.

Nothing to worry about, really. 

The End



Submitted: December 19, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Vance Currie. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:


Donald Harry Roberts

Good one

Sat, December 19th, 2020 10:13pm


Thanks for giving this a read, Donald. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Sat, December 19th, 2020 2:28pm

JE Falcon aka JEF

Ha, a new twist to an old story. Two thumbs up Joe.

Sat, December 19th, 2020 10:50pm


Thanks, JE. I wrote a story that started out a bit like this one a while ago, but didn't like it so I deleted it. I'm glad you like the new twist I have given this version. Mabel and Clara have featured in several of my stories now.

Sat, December 19th, 2020 3:00pm


It's good he found a career he is happy with and to think he didn't want to do it at first, one doesn't always know what will make us happy.

Sun, December 20th, 2020 8:27am


Thank you for reading and commenting, Niah. I was feeling a bit sorry for Dennis, so I decided that his story should have a happy ending--or rather, continuation. A story never really ends.

Sun, December 20th, 2020 12:43am


Poor Dennis. Everyone seemed intent on taking advantage of him.
Very well told.

Sun, December 20th, 2020 6:54pm


Thank you, Hully. Yes, I like to write humour, and it so often happens that the best source of humour is someone's else's misfortune. But at least I left Dennis with a career (of sorts) and a potential girlfriend.

Sun, December 20th, 2020 12:08pm

Mark A George

Good one, Joe! I enjoy your storytelling talent. I was wondering if the word "girl" in the last paragraph should have quotes around it? Or was that girl a girl. :)

Sun, December 20th, 2020 7:23pm


Thanks, Mark. The girl was, in fact, a real girl. One might wonder about that in a drag queen environment, but not all drag queens are gay. I tossed the love interest in to show that Dennis was straight, but I don't mind if readers prefer to think otherwise.

Sun, December 20th, 2020 12:21pm

moa rider

Well Joe, those old biddies knew how to turn a shilling. Usianguke

Sun, December 20th, 2020 8:35pm


Thanks for reading, Moa. The ladies are two of my favourite characters, so I don't let them physically hurt anyone--unless they deserve it.

Sun, December 20th, 2020 12:50pm

Ian D. Mooby

Great story Joe. I think Denise ... I mean Dennis might want to make sure the make-up girl is really a girl because otherwise it might be a little awkward on their wedding night.

Sun, January 24th, 2021 3:17pm


Great guns, Ian. I never thought of that. I popped the love interest into the story to show that Dennis was straight. It never occurred to me that the girl of his dreams might not be what she seems. I tried hard to give Dennis a happy ending to his story of misfortune too.

Sun, January 24th, 2021 11:57am

Sharief Hendricks

Mabel and Clara are at it again, Vance !

I loved the name Delicia cracked me up for some reason.

Shame Dennis was used and abused and tricked, but all is well that ends hilariously funny !

Dennis found his true talent and who knows maybe his calling and a love interest as a bonus!

Mon, June 14th, 2021 1:03pm


Yes, Mabel and Clara are two favourite characters who have appeared in several of my stories. They are lovably wicked old dears. I gave Dennis a rough time in this story, but I'd like to think it led to a happy future, even though the old dears continue to rip him off as his unidentified 'agents'. Thanks for reviewing this story.
Thanks also for becoming my 'fan', Sharief. I already knew you are a genuine fan from the delightful reviews that you give me.

Mon, June 14th, 2021 4:09pm

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