Short Story Saturday

Virgil Smoot is an odd little man.
He'd be the first to admit it, too.

You see, Virgil Smoot came from a long line of Virgil Smoot's.
Virgil Smoot, the Viking
Virgil Smoot, the Pope
Virgil Smoot, the book seller
Virgil Smoot, Gunslinger

Yep. I said it. Gunslinger.
That particular Virgil Smoot had, at one point in time, been the fastest draw in the state of Vermont. He stayed in Vermont, because he liked to ski, and, well. He was afraid of those desperado's out west.
But I digress.

The Virgil Smoot we are concerned with is, at this writing, 94 years old.
He wasn't always 94 though. All ears, and big eyes hidden behind big glasses. Looking, sadly, like Mr. Magoo.

No, Virgil Smoot was once a young, virile young man. All the ladies wanted Virgil Smoot.
However, the Smoot was Smitten with one Leonora Van Flipperly.
He met Leonora one day, in the park, where she was arranged prettily by her lady in waiting on a park bench, all pink frilled and parasol'd, being careful that the sun did not make the slightest freckle on her perfectly peaches and cream complexion.
A stiff, spring breeze arose, however, and the pink and white polka-dotted parasol was torn from her lily white hands, and sailed merrily away.
Virgil Smoot had been walking through said park, bored with life, and the universe, and wanting something new and exiting. Little did he know, when that pink and white parasol hit him in the head, that his life would be changing forever.
Catching the parasol, he cast his gaze, looking for the owner. On a park bench, there she sat, sun lighting her pale blond hair to perfection. She looked distressed, until she saw him, with her parasol
"Silly man" she thought, "Pink is not his color."
"You there, bring me back my parasol" she commanded in her high pitched, uppity tone. For Virgil Smoot, it was love at first sound. Hastily, he made his way to her, delicate parasol clutched in his big, meaty hand.
Leonora was far sighted, and as Virgil Smoot came closer, she noted how handsome he was. "Oh my" she thought. Smiling prettily, she accepted her parasol, and, shockingly, the offer of a walk through the park, on his arm.
Together, the handsome couple promenaded through the park, aware only of each other. They walked, ignoring all others, gazing into each others eyes, until, quite suddenly, the sun began to sink. Leonora's lady in waiting, trailing behind them the whole time, gently reminded her mistress that they needed to seek their home.
"But I don't even know your name!" wailed Leonora, as Virgil Smoot bowed, to take his leave.
"Virgil Smoot" he answered "at your service"
"Smoot?" she said
"Unnaceptable, I cannot be 'Leonora Smoot'. I shall never see you again. Begone"
Hearbroken, Virgil Smoot did as she asked. He left the park, and the snooty Leonora who would not be a Smoot.
He joined the Merchant Marines, and entertained all variety of young ladies, but never forgot the rejection of Leonora. He vowed one day, to find one worthy of the Smoot name. And he did. Gert Smoot. And they lived, happily ever after.
And Leonora, you ask?
Still on the park bench, under her pink parasol, wishing she hadn't been too snooty to marry a Smoot.