The graffiti man was from another world. He liked to hang out on Earth, inconspicuously blending in with his surroundings. He was here for the girls. On his two-dimensional planet his line-lady was completely flat and angular. She walked like a slide rule, which was fairly unsexy. There had to be more to carnal pleasure than just sliding back and forth. You could fold his female up like a piece of paper and put her in an envelope, which is what he longed to do. It was the curves and protrusions that made the Earth girls so exhilarating. He watched them go by, shaping his lips in a sly smile, whistling ultrasonically with sounds that gave an itch without being heard. That always got them. They'd stop, look around, see nothing but the graffiti, then walk on, puzzled. He was certain if his tones could tickle one of these women just right, she'd lean up against him on the wall and scratch her back on him. Then he and she would be one. When she moved on he would move on with her, as her permanent tattoo.

Story #129