Care Bear

He cared, alright. He cared with the hot, passionate flame of a man whose loins have been set afire with the torch of a fetching, large-breasted redhead, the lady with the broken TV, and he cared HARD. HARD AND LONG. God, it was torture, caring so much, being so confined to the living room with his pliers and his raging stinger for The Love Of His Life. She was his everything, his glass tubes, his antennae, his rabbit ears. Rabbits. He could not get the vision out of his mind.

She called him because she knew he could get the job done, and done with supreme satisfaction. Come hither, she said with a delicate flip of her pale, creamy wrist. With his shy smile and bow tie, she knew.