The Perfect Woman

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
They say the perversity of the universe tends toward a maximum.

Submitted: April 12, 2015

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Submitted: April 12, 2015

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She took my breath away as surely as if I had been punched in the gut. Her beauty exceeded anything I had seen in real life or in the mind's eye of my grandest imaginations. I felt an electric jolt course through my loins, leaving a tingling sensation. I was in love. Better yet, I was at the crossroads where love and lust intersect in the perfect storm of desire.

I was randomly surfing the Internet, and I had stumbled across an album of steampunk pictures. I was delighted because the genre is a favorite of mine. I've been into steam ever since my dad took me to an enthusiasts' gathering one summer where I saw a Union Pacific Challenger do a run-by. It thundered across the plains of Kansas, highballing it, belching smoke and shaking the ground like an iron dinosaur in full charge, but that's another story for another time.

The picture was obviously photoshopped. It was made to look as if it were something from the distant past. It was basically black and white, but it was overlain with a pastel wash of colors, with cobalt blue eyes, cornsilk blond hair and ruby lips. I realized it was exaggerated for artistic effect, but no amount of fakery could disguise the raw, divine beauty of the woman herself.

I had to know who she was. I tried a tineye search, but that proved fruitless. Then, I reverse engineered the HTML. I wasn't able to make sense out of the URL, however, I was able to determine that the name of the file was Heidi_H_26.jpg.

If I had been at home on my iMac, the research would have been a piece of cake, but I was at my cousin's house. It was a couple years back when I was forced to flee north on I-59, evacuating for Hurricane Isaac. Unfortunately, she (my cousin) had one of those friggin' Windows PCs, the kind that are, and always will be, mysterious black boxes to me.

"Whatcha doin'?" my cousin asked as she stuck her head in the door.

"I'm trying to track down this picture." I replied.

"Oh, you mean Heidi Hinkel?" she asked, glancing at the computer screen.

"Wait! What? You know this woman?"

Cousin Boo rolled her eyes. "Well, duh, of course I know her, Charlie. That's my photo album that you're scanning."

"Does she live around here? Can I meet her?"

Boo felt my forehead to see if I might be feverish. "Charlie!" she exclaimed, "That's your great-grandmother. She's been dead 100 years or more."

Sheepishly embarrassed, I managed to squeak out a little, "Oh."

Meanwhile, internally, my mind screamed, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

They say the perversity of the universe tends toward a maximum. It sure seemed that way to me the day Hurricane Isaac roared ashore back home, the day that I learned that the universe had denied me the chance to meet the perfect woman.

Copyright © 2015 W.C. Bell; All rights reserved.


© Copyright 2020 Whiskey Charlie. All rights reserved.

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