The Lion of Clem

At one time Jesse Brassaville was the prize catch of Clem, the Pearl of the
Tri-Pasture Area. That was back when he was on the A-string team at school, had
a full mane of glossy golden hair and could make his pecs dance with a few
judicious jerks of his hardened chest muscles. It was the apex of his young lion
period, the lovely stretch of high school upperclassman years and the entirety
of college, when he could glance in the mirror and rest assured his sidewalk
strut would be full of confidence for Clem High’s Big Man on Campus. Life was
sweet and he was the king of the jungle; the alpha male in his prime.

As the years encroached, his young lionhood roared less and less. He gradually
lost the length and abundance of his shining blonde locks and his once-firm pecs
were outpaced by a sagging belly, evidence of an increasingly sedentary
lifestyle. It was hard for Jesse to admit he was no longer the lion of his
youth. When he looked in the mirror it was harder to convince himself to speak
up for that promotion at work, or hit on the pretty Hooters waitress, or get by
passing up the gym after work again. Why, sure; he was fine as it was!

Then work promotions passed him by in favor of other, younger lions. He had to
struggle just to get the weary attention of the plain-looking girls at the Tubs
o’ Suds Bar and Grill. He was reluctant to revisit the gym ever since he split
his pants up the back seam when he sat at the butterfly press.

In his mind, he was still an alpha male. Sometimes if he brushed his hair at the
right angle and sucked in his gut and squinted a little, he could still make out
that young lion in the mirror on his closet door. That was the Jesse Brassaville
he remembered best. That was the Jesse of his heyday, the Jesse he wanted to
present to the women on and and If they
could have only met him back then in the summer of his life and caloric intake
and fatty deposits were just phrases other people used. Before Viagra
commercials were mocked and not taken seriously as a possible solution. Before
his bed pillow lost its partner and his toothpaste ran out twice as fast as it
did now.

Part of it was his stubborn nature, sure; but if Jesse was really truthful with
himself, was really plainspoken about his current state of being, it was all his
desire to cling to those glory years just a little longer, while the image in
the mirror retained a glimmer of recognition, when life on a savannah of
indulgence was for the taking by a young lion.

About jmichaeljones57

I am a writer and an avid fan of goats. The two facts are not mutually exclusive.
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