Werefox Vaquero--Waddie

   
   "Werefox Vaquero--Waddie"
   
   Ela and Max were hanging out, here and there--no kissing or heavy petting, just getting to know each other.  Max was enjoying the synergy he shared with Ela, having always been a wondering waddie in the past, never sticking around, kinda fancying himself a Han Solo type minus the spaceship.  
   Was he getting too comfortable?  Falling in love?  Was it wrong for him to make an alliance?  Maybe he should just be a bronco-buster and take hot showers to release the tension.  Yet Ela's entire presence was shimmering honesty.  That chipped front tooth--she never fixed it cosmetically.  Said plenty about her.  We all got besmirched by trying to be cool and fancy in our younger days; next, you remember the simplicity of being all-too-human.  That we'll have to answer when we take the dirt nap.
   Max knew Ela was sincerely fond of him; moreover, that he would never take advantage of her.  Why?  Because he actually liked her.  She hadn't roped him in, thinking:  Mine, all mine.  Nah, she was just a singular soul herself, waiting for love.  Hoping a knight in shining armor would show up, though she could take care of herself.  Thus, why not break bread with someone you genuinely admire and love.?  Money can take care of a woman.  Security.  Some go there.  Others for the sport sex.  Others tend to follow their hearts.
   Max didn't place one style above the rest, yet he knew what his instincts told him.  Ela was a pretty cool cowgirl.  Clean, chipped, looked you in the eye, and gave a damn--not just about people, but the animals and Earth.  Why should he denounce himself?  Not ever smile?  There Ela was, chipped tooth and all--her smile as bright as the Daystar Itself.