NormanKnudleman.htm

The Ballad of Norman Knudleman

"If you really love me all that much, then you'll show up at the party naked," Lisa told him. "I'll be happy to introduce you to my parents," she smiled with that sly little smile like this was somewhere between a trick question and a genuine opportunity to prove his words. But her soft and charming voice was magical in the ears of Norman Knudleman, and she could have talked him into anything as long as she was talking with that voice. He watched her lips as she was speaking those words that led him to the precipice. Lips are a dangerous thing to watch when listening to a woman, and yet he watched them nonetheless, and their seductive cherry-colored dance led him onward.

At the age of forty, a man's body can leave so much to be desired. But it was desire that led him to the doorstep. He'd already loved a time or two in life, and this time with Lisa it was certain. She was the one. He looked at all the other people in the crowd; they were dressed and talking with each other in little cliques, little clusters. Smiling, laughing, cajoling with one another. Hardly anyone acted like they noticed him, but he was certain that they did. Who wouldn't notice a naked man, he wondered. Here they are covering themselves with colors, and weaves, and patterns, while I have to completely expose myself. Here they are with all their jewelry and their expensive fashions, while I have to be the man who has nothing. They're not talking to me. Of course, they simply put it off as pretending to not notice me, but they do. They simply don't want to be seen with the naked man. No one wants to be seen with me. They don't know what to say. They just turn away when I walk by, and then stare at me down their noses after I've walked away. Everyone's hoping someone else will say something to me, so they can watch. Where are you, Lisa? You're somewhere in this crowd.

The party continued on unhindered, and so did Norman's elbow-bumping meandering through the crowds and he walked about in search of Lisa. It was a beautiful house, lots of space, high ceilings; a mansion. So many rooms to wander about in, but they were all full of everyone but Lisa. Everyone talking to everyone but him.

He sung himself a song. A mumbling kind of hum as he tried to act nonchalant. Something to ease the worries of his thoughts. He was learning that it was best to not focus on the airy feeling down there, and his bare feet were acclimatizing themselves to the cold marble floor.

But eventually he had to succumb to the fact that Lisa simply was not there. He'd woven a path between every group of men and women all cleverly entwined in their own meaningful conversations in spite of him. He'd wandered in and out of the living room, the study, the smoking room, the patio, the kitchen, and even back to the foyer a time or two. All while completely exposing every fault of his aging body, and failing to be able to muster up intelligent conversation of his own. He sighed, and he gave up. And with his head hung low, he shuffled and dragged his feet over to Lisa's room, where he sat down beside the nightstand. And with his bare bottom resting on the carpet, he sat there on his haunches like a puppy dog, and patiently awaited her return.

Passion for one woman is what drove him to enter forth into the crowd, albeit completely naked, and passion for the promise of her voice empowered Norman to patiently endure.

The Ballad of Norman Knudleman

My hobbies include writing poetry about the faeries, elves, gnomes, mermaids and magic of the Sebastopol, Bodega Bay, Sonoma County area.

Like to read?

I wrote Nude Tea which is available at online bookstores like Barnes and Nobles.

My 44 Summer Stories are available at WildChildPublishing.com