Mr. Butterscotch

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I once knew a man with an unusual bearing. His filth stretched far and wide. No one liked his debacle of everything sacrosanct but I still admire his quasi- smile. Going around besmirching everything in his obloquy was his Sunday ritual. I would watch from afar and study this man’s imperative absence of manners. It fascinated me to see his facetious demeanor as he would buy bread or the way he shook his head with such obloquy at Mrs. Tiddleywink’s baroque front lawn.
Mr. Butterscotch was his name and ruining everything revered to people was his game. Never in my 15 years have I been so fortuitous to see such a man as him. When I first set my eyes upon his perfunctory, little petty-coat and the knickers to his knee’s I realized his actions spoke his dress and his dress spoke “How Dreadful!” yet in my judgment I did not realize that my thoughts were spoken allowed as I looked up to see him loom above me.
“ To recapitulate my dear I simply cannot hear those words you spoke so softly.” Was the first thing I was to ever hear fall so slovenly from his mouth.
“I hold it so dear those words you cheer as I mumble so besmirching about you!” I say with a whole smile giving the rhyme back at him.
“To summarize Mr. Butterscotch I was simply admiring the debacle of your quasi-sadistic demeanor.” Smiling as I say because I loved the way his cheeks got so roseate as I looked him in the eye.
“Good day Ms. Lawley, I have enjoyed our debacle of a first impression.” He said so soundly as he glided away from my sight.
“You walk exactly as you talk you Halibut!” I exclaimed in my anger.
“What’s that young Miss? You no longer want to be celibate?” he said facetiously.
“You hedon!” I yelled after.
As he walked away from my sight I could hear his laughter drifting off. I cannot wait for our next encounter for it shall be ornate. I hope..





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