C.M. Amidon

Date the Squid

A thin, bald man walked to the podium. "Good evening," he said in his squeaky voice. "I would like to welcome you to Tapioca, Oregon, home of Squid Fest 2005!"

The crowd of about two hundred cheered.

"My name is George Pantherton, chair of the Squid fest 2005 committee, and I'll be your host throughout the most glamorous of squid festivities. I know you're as excited as I am," George continued, "because this years Squid Fest will be the best yet!"

More cheering.

"We have all the usual festivities, the Squid Toss, the Streaking Squid, the Three Tentacled Race, the Ink Squirt, the Miss Squid Contest, plus many, many more. In addition to all the usual festivities, I'm pleased to announce a new addition to this year. This is a very exciting addition. This year, we're offering the Date the Squid Raffle!"

More cheering.

"This year, three very lucky people will have a chance to win a romantic dinner with this year's top three Miss Squid champions! I've already purchased five tickets. Just two dollars a ticket! For more information, see Iris Greeble in booth 17."

"More cheering."

"All right! This will be positively fantastic! I’m giddy with excitement. As official host of the 2005 Squid Fest, I now squirt this festival into full swing! Go out and squirt all night you squiddie kiddies"

More cheering, and people mingled with the games, rides, and booths.

George carefully turned off the microphone, waved officiously to a group of school children, and made his way behind stage. Once carefully hidden behind stage, he sighed audibly and mopped his brow with a handkerchief. "Thank goodness that's over," he muttered to himself. Thank goodness."

#

George Pantherton liked pornography. No, he loved pornography. He couldn't help himself. In the absence of anything else to love, he chose to love himself as much as possible and the easiest way to do that was through pornography. He mainly read stories, though occasionally he slipped into one of his many picture or video library bookmarked sites. He had even been daring and submitted some of his own erotic fiction to mild acclaim; other's had fun with it, and that made George Pantherton happy.

For thirty years George Pantherton had sold insurance in the drowsy town of Tapioca. He had been a member of the school board for twelve years, winning three terms before retiring to run for town council which he lost by six votes. Those six votes haunted him still. He would never forgive his own mother for not voting for him.

Instead of the town council, George Pantherton was left with too many evenings alone, and so his love for pornography intensified.

All George had left besides insurance, a two-bedroom house, and a mother who voted against him was his weekly Squid Festival planning committee meetings. For sixteen years, he had diligently volunteered for this important task.

The newly elected town council did not hold George's bitter town council campaign against him. When the current Squid Festival chair of thirteen years died suddenly from a high-speed golf-cart crash on hole number eleven (warning signs have now been erected at this dangerous golf-cart crossing), the town council called on George Pantherton to take charge. Geroge Pantherton diligently accepted.

So George Pantherton took over as chair of the Squid Festival planning committee. His years of service to the squid had finally paid off.

The Date the Squid Raffle had been his idea, and the entire Squid Festival planning committee had wholeheartedly embraced the idea.

Now George Pantherton had a means to make his loves come true.

#

George Pantherton wore his best suit, a blue pinstripe affair. Iris Greeble, his secretary said it made him look distinguished. Iris Greeble had always had a thing for bald men, but George appreciated the flattery. If she hadn't been happily married. . . Iris was but one of his many fantasies that would never come true, but now one of those fantasies would indeed come true.

". . .and the winner of this years Miss Squid Contest is," pause for dramatic silence, "Krissie McGunk!"

A bathing-suit clad woman pranced onto stage excitedly blowing kisses to the crowd. She gave a ferocious hug to Daniel Bellaire, the host of the Miss Squid Contest and fellow planning committee member. He handed her a crown and sash which she excepted with another hug.

Krissie McGunk! Krissie McGunk! Geroge Pantherton salivated at the beauty standing on the stage in front of him. She had gorgeous long legs--very squid like, beautiful black hair the color of ink, and eyes that took you to the bottom of the sea. He was instantly in love.

George Pantherton did wonder where she was from as he had never seen Krissie McGunk in town. Nevertheless, his plan was proceeding perfectly.

#

George Pantherton happily rotated the plastic tumbler. The Date the Squid raffle was in its final stages. The tickets slid up the sides, then tumbled over and over again. He could rotate the tumbler for hours. The crank felt sensual in his hand.

The crowd of about fifty, mostly lonely older men, watched the tumbler eagerly, almost with a hunger. On his left, stood the third and second prize runner ups, John Glumbella stood arm in arm with Cynthia Cancun, second runner-up. Theodore Trimble stood arm in arm with Kelsey Laughlin.

Oh, how delicious. This was all going so well. His brief jaunt as the local card shark had trained him perfectly for this occasion, only this time, he didn't have an ace up his sleeve, he had something much better.

George Pantherton halted rotating the tumbler. "Drum roll, please!" he commanded cheerfully. "The grand prize goes to. . ." dramatic pause. "Oh, my goodness. This is unbelievable! It's. . . It's. . . It's me!"

Half-hearted cheering.

"I--I--I can't believe it!" George Pantherton continued in his best shocked voice. He was convincing even himself.

Krissie McGunk ran from the side stage and grabbed George Pantherton's hand. "It's you and me!" she chirped.

George Pantherton turned radish red. It had worked. It really had worked. No one suspected a thing.

#

The evening progressed beautifully, from the candlelight, to the merlot, to the flank of lamb, to the Lemon cheesecake with blood oranges. They had each had bites off the other's fork. George Pantherton was very excited about the dinner, very excited.

Before he new it, they were standing outside Krissie McGunk's apartment.

"George," I've had a wonderful evening."

"Me too, Krissie.

"George," Krissie McGunk said, taking George Pantherton's hand. "I haven't been truthful."

"Really?" George Pantherton said, starting to sweat.

"Yes," Krissie McGunk said, turning aside. "You see, I've had my eye on you for a while. I had Iris rig the contest. We had special tickets constructed that would say the original entrants on the first and second pulls, but then, on your pull, we pressed a button, the ink faded, replaced by your name. For the final draw, all the names would have been yours."

George Pantherton was speechless. Krissie McGunk had rigged the contest. But he had rigged it so he would win Krissie McGunk?. Yet, she wanted him. And, he wanted her. For once in his life, things were going as they should. The divine plan was favoring him!

Yet, he didn't want to appear to eager. "H-how--how did you convince Iris to help you rig the contest?" He had always trusted Iris Greeble. What did this mean if she rigged the contest? Was it a betrayal or was it fate?

"You see, George, I've loved you for a long time. I had to find a way to tell you. . . "You see, George, Iris Greeble is my mother."

"Your mother!" George Pantherton gasped. "Iris Greeble doesn't have any daughters only. . ." No. It couldn't be. He couldn't have been fooled like this. Was she really a. . .

"Yes, George, my real name is Christian Greeble."

"Christian Greeble!" No wonder he had never seen her around. No wonder this was to good to be true.

"But you can still call be Krissie McGunk; that's who I really am now."

Sighing, Geroge Pantherton took Krisse McGunk's hand. What did it matter now? He would just have to make do. This was his chance. This was it. How could he pass this up? If it was meant to be, it was meant to be regardless of societal standards.

Stifling his nerves, George Pantherton kissed Krissie McGunk

THE END