ROY and JONI (Chapter 2)

Roy and Joni: When Dreams and Hearts Collide

      (After Several Months of Not Writing Fiction, Here’s My Latest Effort)

                                               

                                                CHAPTER 2

Roy Wilson was a novice, a neophyte, a newbie in all matters of expressive adult love.

From his open upstairs window, he could not feel much of a breeze to the humid, hot summer nights. Living in the country had more than a few hardships; but, there were sounds and smells the urban environment could never duplicate. The katydids played a nightly staccato concert just outside his bedroom. In the woods just south of his home the mournful call of whippoorwills punctuated the dreamy night air. Occasionally, a hoot owl, sitting alone on an unknown tree, came forth with a bass note of emphasis which completed the nocturnal orchestra. The intoxicating heavy aroma of honeysuckle blooms, located just across the graveled lane, served as a welcomed consolation to the stale air in his bedroom that was too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. Roy often told himself, all things considered, that his country location was as close to Heaven a fellow of 19 could get without dying. Nightly sleep would have gently occurred much sooner had he not always been thinking about her---Joni Marlow.

Joni lived closer to the city and  her home was air conditioned and the only nightly sounds she heard at night was the DJ from a Rock n’ Roll radio station located in the state capitol. “Mr. Action Jackson” was like most DJ’s on her AM radio, he talked too much---“Honey child, I’m your man with my plan!” Joni knew his 11 pm sign on phrase by heart: ”AJ the DJ is feeling fine and sharing my time playing the big records with the little holes and the little records with the big holes!” Joni, like most female radio listeners, had a mental image of her favorite DJ as a tall, Honor Graduate of the Charles Atlas Body Building course. In point of fact, he was overweight and stood 5 feet 9 inches in his Chuck Taylor tennis shoes. Each night he had three or four Mars Bars near the turntable in his cramped studio. When his 57 year old producer was still in a popular watering hole, located a couple of buildings north of the radio station having just one more for the road, the deep voice DJ had to pull his own records and try to finish the poorly written commercials on time.

Joni did think a lot about Roy---he was her latest fixer-upper project.  A little work here, a little work there and Roy would be ready to venture forth into the world of his dreams.  

                                          (To Be Continued)

Glenn <><

Just West of Yesterday