Flipped

I saw this bike on the side of the road this morning. It peaked my interest so much that I had to turn around and go back to take a picture. It's not the bike but the boots that sparked my imagination. There has to be a story here. Since I will never know what it is I've decided to make one up. 

If you asked him he'd tell you he didn't believe in silly things like magic and fairies. Then he'd tell you to leave him alone. He was a very gruff man. A loner. He was a man's man. The kind of man who wrestles alligators for fun. Who learned how to spit tobacco expertly and accurately in the cradle. Who was happier with a hammer in his hand than a dung beetle hanging out with an elephant herd.

He was riding down the country highway on an unseasonably cool July morning, heading to his construction job. Wearing his typical uniform of worn jeans, black t-shirt, and boots. Deep in thought about what he would be doing on the weekend. Camping and fishing, but not that silly campsite camping that was all the rage now. No he would be doing some real camping, deep in the woods, just him and his tent. No one would know where he was or even that he was gone.

He lived alone. No way was he going to put up with some silly woman who thought that she belonged anywhere but in the home doing women's work. He hadn't been able to find a woman that would put up with his misogynistic views.

Suddenly he was hit in the face. Hard! It had to be a huge bug because it was still there and he couldn't see! Using the skills born of long practice he pulled his bike to the side of the road and put down the kickstand. Reaching up he grabbed the thing clinging to his face and pulled it off. He looked down at his hand and gave a scream that would make Janet Leigh gasp with envy.

There in his hand was a perfectly shaped miniature person. Except...it had wings! And it looked just like him!  But it was barefoot. What in the world was going on? His miniature looked at him and said "It literally took a slap in the face for you to notice. Alright buddy lets go" With a snap of his tiny fingers they both disappeared.  Or so it seemed. In reality they had merged into one tiny barefoot fairy standing on the side of the highway.

He looked up. Way up at his boots and even further beyond to his motorcycle. Then he fainted.

When he came to he was looking into the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had perfect features, ebony long flowing hair, and tobacco juice rolling down her chin. He jerked his head back in surprise and it slammed against the ground. The dirt ground....he had fainted on pavement. "Where am I?" he demanded.

The tobacco stained winged creature said, "Look buddy you need to change your tone. We don't allow our menfolk to talk back. Now I'd suggest you get off your lazy butt and start cooking."

The big bad mysognistic biker wasn't in Kansas anymore.....