Another post in the second round of Sheryl Gwyther's 52-Week Flash Fiction Challenge on Facebook. I had some fun with this one.
The Silver Fox (161 words)
He was the only bachelor left at the bowling club and he was a bona fide fox.
A swarm of ladies had picked up his scent and I was determined to be the one to sniff him out.
My famous pot roast and I squeezed into my hatchback and made our way to Night Owls. There was no better way to a man's heart than through my pot roast.
I was never that good at reverse parallel parking, especially in the dark. I stopped when I felt my rear bumper nudge the car behind, then, easing forward, my foot slipped from the clutch and the car lurched like a choking frog sending a flash of eyes across the bonnet.
Before he knew what had happened I'd stuffed him into the passenger seat with my pot roast on his lap and we made tracks for the hospital.
One way or another, my pot roast and I never failed to get the fox.