Risk of the day

—“Could you please do me a favor?” I asked the girl manning the self-checkout at my supermarket.
Her name was the same as my deceased sister, which l so noted, after which she walked away.
“Could you please turn around and look at me again?” I asked.
“WOW!” I said, eye-contact reestablished. “Your eyes are gorgeous!”
“Why thank you!” she gushed.
I haven’t been smacked yet, and I’ve told many ladies that.
“I can do that,” I told her. “I’m 76 years old. It’s one of the perks of old age.”
We laughed and she smiled. “Ya don’t look it,” she said.
“I do too!” I said. “I’m way over the hill, although I don’t remember any hill.”
We laughed some more. A little overweight, but gorgeous eyes.
And not a Harley-mama. No smokers, no drinkers, no gamblers, no slatterns. Only the classy ladies, especially if they have gorgeous eyes.
“It's these masks,” I told her. “I can’t get outta this supermarket without noticing eyes. And many are gorgeous; pretty blue eyes, pretty brown eyes. I see yours are brown.
Don’t do that!” I shouted. “Yer twinklin’ yer eyes at me again!”
“How am I supposed to be a good boy when you keep hittin’ me with them eyes?”
My childhood calls that FLIRTING; EVIL and disgusting.
But it sure is fun!
Striking sparks with women is fun. They smile or laugh.
“Go to Hell, Bobby! Do you not pass Go! Do not collect $200! Go DIRECTLY to Hell!”