Lavender Roaring Fork Clinchfield dreaded the third Wednesday of each odd-numbered month in even-numbered years and vise versa. He was no martyr to the bachelor cause: with reluctance donned burgundy cut-away tails and forest green tuxedo pants. The usual pro forma protest to the Misses Forsythia and Hydrangea: they moved to snuff out his rebellion with whispered promises. His blush matched his coat. It was very tempting especially the specific details of the ménage à trois involving whipped cream and bananas. He girded his loins. The smirking girls escorted him into the Tabernacle of Sainted Virgins in Search of Husbands.
The Daily Post prompt
Three Word Wednesday prompt
Authors note: This link Iron Hollows Fiction goes to the “Iron Hollows” category of 100-drabble fiction segments or click each drabble link below. They are not serially linked but rather vignettes set in and around the fictional town of Iron Hollows. I’ll be writing as the Muse moves, there is no time frame on posting and will depend on reader response.
“the legend of the time before”
“along the non-existent waterfront”
“gunpowder explodes, fireworks delight”
“clouds play peek-a-boo with moon”
“homemade gravy for the grits”
“unsuccessful sultry spring seduction”
“where there is snow there are complaints”
“thankfully the tavern had stocked up”
“air as crisp as a grilled McIntosh”