178 — Dear Star Registry...

Dear Registrars,

Lovely exotic dancer, Ursula North, my “little dipper,” my “little bear,” is my unrequited love. I know she cares, even if she doesn't treat me like she does all those ogling men with their dollar bills. I need to impress her in an “astronomical” way. Imagine my presenting, instead of dollars or purchasing lap dances, an entire constellation deeded to her (in your registry, copyrighted with the Patent and Trademark Office!).

I'm just three stars short--ŋ, and Ɵ, and Polaris ("α")--of owning the entire naked-eye constellation, Ursa Minor--the "Little Dipper." As explained previously, I use the Bayer system of star magnitudes, which counts the most when it comes to the affairs of the heart.

Ursa Minor wasn't cheap; I had to buy stars from previous owners; but where money's no object, the stars can be had! (I've made offers for ŋ and Ɵ; their registrees should capitulate.)

Yet, Polaris' owner remains anonymous. Couldn't you forward my generous offer? After my letters, your lack of response is concerning.

Might Ursa Major be better? Ursula's svelte and might take offense at the implication. Ursa Minor is no slouch, though; any whole constellation's impressive, even one spanning 256 square degrees of sky! (Although Andromeda's lovely on stage, thank God I didn’t fall for her!)

The North Star, Polaris, means that anyone surnamed, North (my Ursula North), should really own it. (It's not lost on me that it's also called the Pole Star!)

I plan to confront her outside of the dance club after work, registration-in-hand.

Consider the Big Bang, setting into motion machinations that would one day produce the loveliest heavenly body to ever rotate around a pole, my Ursula. I don't know if Ursula knows much astronomy, but imagine falling three stars short in her eyes! Her starry eyes.

It's constellational manifest destiny! I must impress and have Ursula. Like Mother said when she cooked my breakfast this morning, "They're other fish/stars in the sea/sky."

But there's only one Ursula North on Earth and only one Ursa Minor in the sky. Please make them mine. My future generations depend on it!

Yours,

Bubber Tant, Ursa Minor enthusiast

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

For Wednesday, June 26, Day 178 of the Story-a-Day Challenge

366 WORDS (without A/N)

Title-accompaniment photo was AI-generated but lap dance fantasies were not!

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ABOUT THIS STORY:

Inspired by two scams:

1. That whole testosterone-blinding "game" played by exotic dancers (i.e., strippers) who act like they truly care for chumps who give them dollar bills while they dance.

2. The self-appointed "owners" of the stars who sell certificates of registration for individual stars, which they say is "copyrighted" in the US Patent Office--just like this story is copyrighted by me (2024) just by my saying it! By the way, © Gerard DiLeo, 2024 All Rights Reserved

And putting the two together comes up with poor double-scammed Bubber Tant, Ursa Minor enthusiast, Ursula North-stalker, looking to complete his ownership of an entire naked-eye constellation to bequeath to his love-object, the lovely exotic dancer, who rotates on her own pole nightly from 11-4 at the gentlemen's club, "Frustrations," 110 Highland Ave, Hull, MA.

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There are currently three surviving Vocal writers still participating in the insane 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge and approaching only its halfway mark:

• L.C. Schäfer, challenge originator

• Rachel Deeming

• Gerard DiLeo (some other guy)

Read them. Support them. Pray for them. And I don't know about L.C. and Rachel, but--invoking the Beatles' "Helter Skelter"--they "may be lovers, but I ain't no dancer!"