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The Misadventures of Doc and Dirk, Volume IV
The Misadventures of Doc and Dirk, Volume IV
The Misadventures of Doc and Dirk, Volume IV
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The Misadventures of Doc and Dirk, Volume IV

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He's a middle-aged, newly single, gay photographer starting life over. Along comes a freshly out nineteen-year-old, irreverent free spirit who wants to be his apprentice. Mismatched by more than a generation, what could possibly go wrong? Everything! And it's AWESOME!
King Dirk the Duck: Sometimes talent can surprise you... even when it's right under your feet.
Your Brain On Disney: Doc grew up on Bugs Bunny and Looney Tunes... Dirk grew up on Disney. Who knew that damned mouse was a prick tease?
Grey Poupon: We've all smoked grass. We've all made an ass of ourselves doing it at one time or another. It's the herb of a thousand embarrassments.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherDan Skinner
Release dateMar 1, 2017
ISBN9781370834471
The Misadventures of Doc and Dirk, Volume IV
Author

Dan Skinner

I'm a single gay man living in the Midwest... I write because I consider myself to be an old-fashioned story teller. I've been a photographer for half my life specializing in male romance cover art. My dream is to one day live on the beach with my dog and continue to tell tales that inspire and entertain.

Read more from Dan Skinner

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    Book preview

    The Misadventures of Doc and Dirk, Volume IV - Dan Skinner

    THAT DARN MUSE

    (The Episodic Misadventures of Doc and Dirk)

    BY DAN DOC SKINNER

    That Darn Muse, Volume Four

    Smashwords Edition

    * * * * *

    Published By Dan Skinner at Smashwords

    Copyright © March 2017

    All Rights Reserved

    Edited and Formatted By Ally Editorial Services

    Cover Art By Gri Clover

    That Darn Muse, Volume Three is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any Resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

    All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright

    Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, Dan Skinner.

    No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without permission from Dan Skinner. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

    Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights and livelihood is appreciated.

    Table of Contents:

    The Nutshell …and the Nut

    Dirkisms

    Episode Eight: King Dirk, The Duck

    Random Dirkisms

    Episode Nine: Your Brain on Disney

    More Random Dirkisms

    Episode Ten: Grey Poupon

    Bonus Dirkisms

    Also by Dan Skinner

    Connect with Dan

    The Nutshell… and the Nut

    He’s nineteen years old, taller than me by four inches and less heavy by about fifteen pounds – even though I’m an avid runner. I figure it’s my middle-age curse. It takes a lot more effort to be that lean. His hair is longish, rust-colored and will fall down into a classic set of bangs when the slightest breeze blows. He’ll absently brush this back a half dozen times in the course of a conversation. Determining his eye color is impossible. They seem to change with whatever he’s wearing but if I had to guess, I’d say closer to brown, maybe hazel. He’s hardcore ADHD and moves as quickly as he talks. I’ve often compared our discussions to watching hummingbirds’ wings. His leg provides a constant drumbeat to a conversation beneath the table.

    This is Dirk. I call him my muse.

    He and I have come a long way to eventually become photographer/teacher and apprentice/muse, but I still remember distinctly the day I first saw him. It was winter. I was in a new gym right after I moved back to the city; I was lying on a mat facing a row of treadmills, doing my abs when he walked in with two of his buddies. They were all college-aged. He was hard to miss. His buddies were in workout clothes and he was in a pair of the baggiest sweats I’d ever seen – two sizes too big for him but cinched tightly at the waist, a sweatshirt covered by a loose yellow jacket. He had a stocking cap barely pulled over the crown of his head and it had a peak as high as Mount Everest. He had a backpack on as if he’d just come from school and he didn’t bother to take it off as he climbed aboard the treadmill nearest me, plugged some ear buds in and began walking. He had a loose walk – that kind of gait that most guys get after a sudden growth spurt that makes their movements seem gangly and uncoordinated. He bobbed his head continually with what I suspected was the beat of the music but he was mouthing words I knew didn’t belong to any song.

    I hate this. I really hate this. Walking on a treadmill indoors is stupid. It didn’t sound like anything that even Lady Gaga could put to a beat, so I gathered he was really not enjoying being in a gym on a treadmill.

    Truthfully, I can’t explain to you why visuals like this strike me as interesting, but this kid did. He had one of those boy-next-door faces that was still trying to grow hair, and that I knew would soon phase out of cute into handsome with a little maturity. And he seemed continually distracted. Everything mundane held his attention for only a matter of seconds. His eyes constantly roamed for something worthwhile.

    He caught me staring at him but didn’t seem unnerved by it. He nodded, smiled and kept on plowing forward, loose-legged on the treadmill keeping the rhythm with, I hate this, I really hate this, this is stupid.

    I saw him several times after that, always dressed in heavy, disguising layers, always with a backpack and stocking cap and perpetually displeased to be in the gym, like his friends had tethered him to them like a pet needing to be walked. On one occasion, he sat on the leg machine next to me and I watched him carefully roll up the legs of his sweats just to his knees before beginning to do his presses. I was actually surprised to see that he had hairy legs and he caught me staring at them but assumed I was looking at his socks. They had a bold, garishly colored cartoon print on them, but I hadn’t noticed that until he told me they were a Christmas gift. Those were actually the first words he spoke to me and I remember this because it saved me the embarrassment of having been caught in a gym staring at a guy’s legs. Yes, I’m gay, but I normally don’t stare at people like they’re quarry. I prefer to say that at that time I was newly single and had finally reached the psychological maturity inclined to stay that way.

    My first impression of Dirk was how unlike his buddies he was. They were fairly typical jocks or jock wannabes, and he came across as the bookish, cerebral-type. Maybe that was because of the glasses he occasionally wore. I think we all mentally assess people by how they look and Dirk had a nerdy feel to him. But a cute nerdy feel. He didn’t stand around looking in the mirrors like most guys do in a gym. In fact, it appeared he avoided them. When he worked out his gaze traveled. I think that’s how he noticed me. I had that rage in me of a middle-aged man cast back into the pond with the young fish. My anger displayed itself in the obsessive zeal of my workouts. That’s a nice way of saying I probably looked nuts. At that time I was. When I caught him staring at me it was with curiosity, probably wondering where I got the inspiration he didn’t seem

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