Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works from Elan.Works, a designer and editor at GenderAvenger, and a speaker who has spoken across North America. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.

A Flasher, A Middle-Aged Man, Me, And Definitely No Snail Mail Today

The weirdest thing just happened, and I have to write it down while it is still fresh in my head. I was walking down the alley to my apartment building on my way home from work a few minutes ago, and everything seemed strangely calm. Before I had gotten on my bus, the wind had been gusting up to ninety kilometres an hour, and on my walk from the bus stop to the alley, there seemed barely a breeze. Even the sky was suddenly quite still, its rare mix of clouds ranging from the dark and foreboding kind to the light and fluffy type all hanging stationary for a few minutes. My concentration was broken by sudden hyena-like laughter, and when I looked ahead of me to see what was going on, there was this tall, thin, young man undoing his pants in full view of a middle-aged man about twenty feet ahead of him who did not seem to be enjoying the event. The young man dropped his pants to around his knees, and although I was directly behind him and was unable to see the full effect, the style of his butt-waggling made it obvious that he was shaking his penis around for the other man to see, all the while wailing this high-pitched laughter. For a second, I thought that maybe this was some kind of weird pick-up, but when the young man ran and ducked behind a car, and the middle-aged man turned and ran away(he really ran!), I knew that I might be subjected to some sort of unwanted flashing. I tried to walk as intentionally and aggressively as I could past the young man, who was by now leaning out from behind the car to see whether the other man was coming back, but my gait did not deter him from falling into step behind me. I was just about up at my building’s back door when the middle-aged man started clomping back down the alley and yelling stuff like “who do you think you are?!” I was starting to enter into Full Panic Mode at this point, when the young man hurried by my left side to the door and took out his keys.
“You probably don’t believe I live here,” he said, and I noticed that his overly open eyes make him look like an excited rabbit.
- I said nothing.
“I do. You probably think that my key won’t fit in this lock,” he said much too calmly as the other man continued stomping towards us, closing in.
His key did fit into the lock, and we both ducked in just before the middle-aged man met up with us.
“You don’t have to worry that I live in the same building,” he said.
“No, that’s okay,” I actually replied. ‘That’s okay’! No, it is not okay! I have some weirdo penis-waggler living downstairs from me! By the time I reached my apartment, I was starting to get that after-shock-shaky feeling, but I’m calming down now. At least he seemed more interested in harassing a middle-aged male than not-so-middle-aged female me. Needless to say, I am going to save getting my mail from the lobby downstairs for tomorrow.

Flasher Facts and Links:
There will be none of that today. Everything was too boring or too sexed up. All the facts and links I could find had information on emergency flashers, such as the blinking lights on vehicles and certain roadway signs, and young girls flashing their breasts at Mardi Gras and on spring break. Neither peaked my interest. Sorry about the lack of my usual facts and links. Although, if you are so moved, I am sure you can google your own young girl or emergency flashers if I have left you wanting.

A Blind Saint, A Possible Career Change, Shoes, A Dating Jesus, A Bad Film, And Dominatrices

A Hate Freak, NaNoWriMo, Wild Cows, A Blog List, Punky Girls, Starcat's Leaving, And Scrabble