Bad Moon Rising

/ Diane Henders

I was sitting at the breakfast table mulling over topics for today’s post when it happened. To be honest, I wasn’t particularly shocked. I’d been half-expecting something bad.

Usually by the time I get out of the shower in the morning I’ve got some ideas for a blog post, but this week nothing funny had happened. I hadn’t fallen off an exercise ball or dropped a dumbbell on my face at the gym. I hadn’t misread anything that made me go, “Wait, what?” and I hadn’t blurted out anything incriminating or even slightly inappropriate.

That made me nervous. I figured the universe must be saving up something truly dire for me.

I was right.

I’d made it all the way to the breakfast table without inspiration, and I was staring blankly out the window when the woman from several doors down emerged from her house with her little dog. Nothing unusual about that, but apparently there was something on her driveway this morning. So she bent over to pick it up.

Bent deeply at the waist.

She was wearing a short nightdress.

Fortunately she was too far away for me to make out details, but if she was actually wearing underwear, it was the exact colour of her skin.

I looked away hurriedly, thinking she’d feel the draft and realize what was happening, but either she was happily oblivious or else she’s an exhibitionist. She puttered around for a good five minutes, turning in all directions and bending over so deeply her skirt rode up far enough for everyone to see not only London and France, but also Turkey, Pakistan, and all of Oceania.

I admit it; I laughed. It reminded me of all the other times I’ve been subjected to views I really could have done without.

A few decades ago mooning was a common sport on the highway. Back then, you knew enough not to glance over if a car pulled up beside you but didn’t pass. If you did look, you were almost certain to see a bare ass hanging out the car window. (I haven’t seen that in years, though, so I guess the seatbelt laws have been good for something.)

And of course, plumber’s butt still abounds. I’ve seen ‘way too many hairy butt-cracks burgeoning out of low-slung jeans while their owners wrestle building materials into their trucks at the lumber store. But I usually assume those are accidental.

The ones I really wonder about are the guys who wear loose-fitting shorts with no underwear. Then they sit directly across from you with a smile on their face and their junk hanging out the leg of their shorts. Okay, guys, maybe it’s nice to give the boys some air, but I can’t help thinking you’re enjoying it a little too much.

I suppose I can’t exactly criticize, though. Having inadvertently done my share of mooning I pretty much have to give everybody the benefit of the doubt, including my alfresco neighbour lady.

At least there was one good thing about getting mooned: I renewed my acquaintance with one of my old-time faves, Creedence Clearwater Revival.

P.S. I saw my neighbour again about twenty minutes later, but this time she was wearing shorts. Maybe she noticed the breeze after all…

35 thoughts on “Bad Moon Rising”

    • Thanks, I’m so glad you’re getting some laughs out of The Spy Is Cast! And I’m pleased to hear you think it’s better – I work hard to improve my writing with every book. (Sometimes I succeed; sometimes not so much…) 🙂

      As to the rising moon, I’m pretty sure there’s some sort of giant force field that surrounds me and attracts oddball activity. More strange stuff happens to me than to all my friends combined!

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  4. I, myself, never mooned anyone! I was however, guilty by association and even my parents didn’t believe me when I protested my innocence. High school, walking to school, had to pass a huge Catholic church/convent/school. A disgruntled student of said school along with some buddies that had been suspended or expelled or whatever they did at that institution, decided to moon the silent Sisters one morning when they were going from the school area to the front of the chapel. Myself and 2 others that went to the public school further down the boulevard happened to be in the middle of the mix. The moment the students hollered, turned and dropped their drawers someone started taking pictures (planned I’m sure) and sure enough that’s when my friends and I started laughing about something totally separated from what they were doing. When the picture made its rounds of the neighborhood and my parents caught sight of it there was no way they believed that I didn’t have knowledge of what was planned. Even tho’ we weren’t Catholic, doing anything, anywhere at anytime that was disrespectful of another faith was considered Heresy and punishment was swift and thorough! I have always tried to be respectful of all religions, no need not to be after all, they all have good stuff in there, 🙂 but each time I pass a church and people are standing around outside I have to look around for anyone acting suspicious and/or reaching for the waistband/hem of their skirt or trousers. Yep, some of the good memories still come back! LOL

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    • Oh, that’s hilarious! I can only imagine how much trouble came your way! And you being innocent and all (that time, anyway). The rural community where I grew up had a very high percentage of devout, conservative Mennonites, so something like that would never have happened… and if it had, I think the entire community would probably have self-combusted. 😉

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  7. Years ago, a guy I worked with had a set of neighbors who sounded like yours. The guy worked all day, and the wife stayed home and worked in the yard. Or whatever…

    Her usual attire for yard work was a tight tank top and short shorts. And yes, she was built for the outfit. Or so I hear. I got all this second hand, you understand.

    The kicker was the peace sign patch she sewed to the crotch of her shorts. And she spent all day out in the yard bent over with her legs spread apart, working in the flowerbeds or pulling weeds.

    My co-worker called her the neighborhood temptress. His wife called her that worthless slutty bitch. Apparently his wasn’t the only wife who called her that. The general goings on in that neighborhood kept more than one divorce lawyer busy for a year or two.

    She had a great looking, er, yard, I hear. 🙂

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    • LOL! Well, considering the number of times it was getting plowed, I would hope her yard was in great shape. And I guess it’s no surprise that she did a booming business. Most guys seem to be attracted to women with huge t… tracts of land. 😉

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      • I get that! Too bad the guy lived in Swamp Castle. Or perhaps he’d been spending too much time in Castle Anthrax. All those nubile young women with nothing to do all day but bathe and try on lingerie…

        That left poor wifey with nothing to do all day but stay at home and slave thanklessly over a hot neighb, er, gardening implement. Yeah, we’ll go with that.

        Sounds like grounds for divorce to me, right? 🙂

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    • Ha! It’s so funny you should mention that! I got the lyrics right the first time I heard the song, but I laughed my head off when I discovered that “There’s a bathroom on the right” was a common misinterpretation. Now my brain automatically fills it in every time the song plays!

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  9. Diane,
    I’m always inappropriate, and I half the time I don’t even know what I said. OH well…I’m in Phoenix at my daughters home so I’m trying really hard to be good. Did I say really hard? I don’t think that quite describes how much I’m working on being appropriate. She often does not approve of what comes out of my mouth, but then again she really shouldn’t.

    Now Creedence Clearwater Revival, oh that brought back memories. When I was a kid I saw a lot of bands in the Bay Area of San Francisco. The summers were spent at Bill Graham’s Day on the Green. Fun times, but I never was able to see CCR.

    Thanks for your post. Of all of the blogs I subscribe to, your, and yours alone, is the one I read faithfully.

    Be Blessed,
    Cait

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    • Aw, thanks, Cait! I’m so flattered to hear that! And I’m chuckling over your effort to be appropriate – I completely understand. When my nieces and nephews were young and impressionable I just about sprained myself trying to control my mouth. I stopped myself so many times I’m pretty sure they thought I had a speech impediment for the first eighteen years of their lives.

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  10. Intentional mooning really does seem to be a thing of the past. On the other hand, the types of selfies people post online to live on in eternity may be worse than the mooning. In fact, makes one kind of long for the mooning. Who would think we’d grow nostalgic for butt cheeks pressed against a car window?…

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  12. Dear Diane,Great post!! Yuk!! Being an old fart myself, who was a useless youth in the 1960’s I wonder if you have heard of all the numerous named variations of the 1960s moon? Like the “pressed ham” or the “power drop”? My personal favorite was the “power drop” i.e. a pair of suspenders were worn inside the pants. The were connected at the top to the places suspenders normally attach. The elastic was then run down each leg on the inside and the end of the suspenders were the attached to the sock tops. When the belt was undone the effect was virtually instantaneous !!Keep smilin’,Uncle Dewey 

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    • ‘Powder Drop’! Bahahaha!!!! That’s hilarious! And the accompanying mental image makes me laugh even harder. I’m guessing ‘pressed ham’ would be when you don’t roll the car window down but instead press up against it…?

      Thanks for my belly laugh of the day – that’ll definitely keep me smiling! 😀

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