The Disaster Sisters

Three exquisitely diverse ladies stood on the shore of the tiny island with their arms crossed as Randy approached from the ocean.

Isn’t this just lovely? Randy thought as he waded up to the women.

“How did you get on this island?” the cinnamon colored woman asked.

“I doggy-paddled. No, bitch, I was in a fucking boat that’s at the bottom of the fucking ocean right now.”

“How did you survive after your ship crashed into the rocks?”

“What do you mean? My ship has been long gone. I’ve been drifting on a raft for three days and all of a sudden I heard Donna Summers floating on the wind. I started paddling in the direction of the voice. Was that you guys?”

“It was, honey. Did you like it?” the ebony woman batted her eyes at Randy.

“Sure, it was fabulous. Say, is that a pack of cigarettes over there? You really got a pack of smokes on this shit-sandwich?” Randy went over to the pile of what looked like trash, but as he rummaged he saw it was men’s personal effects. He kept an eye out for the shady women until he found a match and took his first drag in seventy two hours. “Oh God, that feels so good. Say, who are you ladies and what are you doing with a pile of dead men‘s belongings?”

“We’re the sirens. You’re the first man to step foot on this island and not fall at our feet.” the cream-colored girl pouted.

Randy waved a hand. “Ha! You Neapolitan ladies are scrumptious with your chocolate, vanilla and strawberry appeal, but you are barking up the wrong tree. The last vagina I touched was the day I was born, and I have not looked back. Besides, the whole sitting-on-a-desert-island-waiting-to-destroy-men-thing is so passé.”

“Are you judging us?” all three asked.

“Oh honey, no. I’ve wrecked many a man’s life. I’m just saying you could do so much better for yourselves. Live in penthouses while men below destroy themselves for you. I tell you what, you get me off this island and we’ll take New York together. I live in a dump right now, but with looks like yours we won’t need money. I’ll show you how to manipulate men, and you cut me in, deal?”

Randy and the sirens left the island that night. When they landed in New York, Randy kept his word. He and the sirens were squished in his basement apartment for only a couple weeks before Randy helped each woman land themselves a gullible fish. The sirens are actually kind of famous now. This writer is not at liberty to mention their names, but one had a reputable acting/singing career. The second purposely leaked a sex tape of her with someone famous and landed her own reality show. And the third made a moderate career of politics, despite the photographs of her holding a machine gun, wearing a skimpy bikini and a man-killing smile.

(This and 3 of my other short stories will be published in the upcoming anthology “Men In The Company of Women” by Edgar Allen Poet publishers.  More info soon!)