Francisco's Thoughts (eBook)
272 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3178-1330-7 (ISBN)
David Felchner was born and raised in Cincinnati, Ohio, and has always gravitated more toward the written word than the spoken one. From an early age, he found joy in letting his thoughts escape onto paper. As he grew older, that passion only deepened-whether he was writing emails, crafting college essays, composing poems, or marveling at the invention of text messaging (which he still considers the best thing since sliced bread). David served in both the U.S. Navy and Coast Guard, where his writing skills truly came to life. After years in the field of marine electronics, he transitioned into instruction-teaching courses in electrical theory, instructor development, course development, instructional design, and professional development. He eventually became a speechwriter, creating everything from formal event speeches and retirement tributes to dinner toasts and comedic roasts. Today, David continues to embrace writing in all its forms and recently fulfilled a lifelong dream by publishing his debut novel, Francisco's Thoughts-a blend of adventure, comedy, and romance inspired by his own real-life adventures, misadventures, and the poetic chaos of everyday life. His goal is simple: to entertain, uplift, and deliver a few well-earned laughs along the way. Outside of writing, David enjoys salsa and bachata dancing, pickleball, fitness, finance, reading, lifelong learning, traveling, and exploring all that life has to offer.
Francisco's Thoughts is a hilarious and heartwarming tale that follows Francisco, a Spanish immigrant fresh out of grad school, as he navigates the unpredictable terrain of life in the United States. The story blends adventure, comedy, romance, and personal growth in a whirlwind of absurd situations and touching moments. Whether he's spending his birthday with a homeless street performer named Alligator, suffering through an insufferable date at a Vanilla Ice-inspired sushi joint called Rice Rice Baby, surviving a white-water tubing trip gone hilariously wrong, getting "e;pickled"e; in pickleball by grumpy grandpas Marty and Wilbur, or watching his bizarre co-worker Bill eat sushi with tweezers and consume his Subway sandwiches sideways instead of vertically, Francisco's misadventures offer nonstop laughs and unforgettable scenes. At the heart of the story is Francisco's blossoming romance with Olivia, an American with sharp wit and infectious charm. Together with occasional appearances from her lovable pug, Elvis Pugsley Francisco embarks on a series of outrageous yet meaningful adventures throughout Seattle. Their journey will have readers laughing out loud and rooting for the couple as they explore the hidden gems and unexpected corners of the Emerald City. What makes Francisco's Thoughts truly unique is the way Francisco's inner monologue comes to life. His deepest thoughts appear on the page in spontaneous bursts of poetic reflection, adding unexpected depth and emotional resonance to the story's satirical humor. More than just a comedic romp, Francisco's Thoughts offers a fresh and honest look at the immigrant experience, exploring the challenges of identity, romance, and reinvention with sincerity and wit. It's a perfect escape for readers craving a blend of absurdity and authenticity a story that's as heartfelt as it is hilarious.
Chapter Two
Olivia
The move to the new apartment was relatively easy, as the room came furnished and was a short train ride from campus, so Francisco dropped off his luggage and decided to explore his new neighborhood on foot. After a few minutes of walking, he stumbled upon an urban coffee shop that would make any new-age hipster feel at home. Upon ordering some shade-grown fair-trade single-origin organic coffee recommended by the barista, he navigated through a sea of dreadlocks, fedoras, vegetarians, yoga pants, tie-dye shirts, and a few holistic healers before finding a seat in the corner.
Sipping on his coffee and pondering his next steps in life, he had a sudden urge to use the restroom that only a single-origin fair-trade Ethiopian and Columbian blend could bring upon someone. After an intense bathroom break, Francisco headed back to his corner seat by circumventing his way around man-buns, long beards, fisherman beanies, feminists, and oval sunglasses, when he heard the jingle of the coffee shop door open, and upon looking up, there she stood. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty, reminiscent of the classic California girl-next-door look from the American movies, he’d watched growing up. They were face to face, frozen, staring at one another, and she was the most beautiful being he had ever seen. His thoughts took over as time stopped, his imaginary pen pressed against a fictional notepad, and in that silence, words flowed onto the page - unbeknownst to him, that would mark the beginning of a love story…
The Greyish Hue
I look into her blue eyes.
I see my reflection.
I see my eyes staring deeply into her eyes, and she sees the same.
Hazel and blue eyes blend, creating a greyish hue.
Lustrous colors emerging as one.
As an artist meticulously mixes paint to find a perfect color, we have found ours.
Our eyes paint a picture in our minds on a canvas we call life.
A picture painted by love that tells our story.
A picture purer than Picasso, more moving than Michelangelo, vivid like Van Gogh, and as daring as Da Vinci.
The greyish hue we create paints our masterpiece.
With every look that is reflected back, another stroke of the brush is added to our canvas.
An endless painting of a greyish hue.
They both apologized for nearly bumping into each other, and Francisco found his seat while she went to order at the counter. A few minutes later, he realized she had joined a group of women seated close by his table. Listening closely, Francisco started gathering information on her that would make a cholo detective named Sherloco Homes jealous. The ladies were planning to meet on Thursday night at a local karaoke night called “Don’t Quit Your Day Job” with DJ Dying Cat and his sidekick, Chalkboard Fingernails. Like a sly stalker from Spain, Francisco knew his next move.
Thursday night came quicker than expected, and Francisco threw on his favorite pair of fitted jeans and a simple white button-up shirt (to distinguish himself from the interesting characters he was getting familiar with after hanging out all week at the coffee shop), chugged a San Miguel Light, and headed to the karaoke bar. After hearing a few mediocre attempts at singing, he started to grow anxious as he hadn’t seen her yet. As time passed, empty bottles of Modelo Especial began accumulating on his table.
He was growing impatient and thinking of leaving when suddenly he heard a familiar beat. ♫♪♬ da da da da daaa da da da da da…♪♩♬. It was one of his favorites. “Losing My Religion” by R.E.M. After a few seconds of foot tapping and finger drumming on the table, he looked up. It was her! She was the one singing. A WTF came from the alternate ego inside his head, and as she sang the last word and walked off the stage, time slowed down as he ogled her walking in slow motion. Hearing the sounds of an orchestra, his thoughts pursued…
The Orchestra
Click-Clack, Click-Clack, Click-Clack
went the sound of her stilettos.
Pound, Pound, Pound
was the sound of his chest.
With a jingle of a tambourine, his eyes locked to her musical walk.
Maracas shaking with each sway of her tight butt. As each cheek moves side to side, he hears the sounds of waves crashing in high tide.
Her shirt pressed tight against her chest, revealing large breasts, unleashing the sound of a cello.
He imagines them not covered by fabric and bouncing freely like Jello.
He hears a chime.
Everything has slowed down as if her beauty has stopped time.
Chimes erupt from a triangle.
He imagines making love to her from every angle.
The music speeds up to the strings of a violin.
He’s undressing her with his eyes as if it’s a sin.
Deep bass from a trombone and acoustic delights from a saxophone.
Oh, what a sexy tone.
Sounds erupt from an English and French horn.
Right now, in this moment…she is his porn.
In his thoughts, he has her naked in candle-lit darkness.
Massaging her ass to the orchestrated sounds of brass.
He slides his baton deep into her musical box.
The bedpost knocks, emulating the percussion sounds of wooden blocks.
In this moment he’s in the middle of an orchestra filled with fantasy as she walks by.
Symbols clash, bass vibrates, drums echo, clarinets and flutes play.
He cannot break his stare, even as she fades away.
Eventually, she fades from sight.
What a musical ecstasy tonight.
An orchestration that brought on a concocted sexual relation with pure passion… and ended in a standing ovation.
After snapping out of his daydream and realizing someone was singing karaoke to “Bohemian Rhapsody,” Francisco did a quick waistband tuck and got back to his finger drumming and foot tapping to the beat of the music. His plan was to approach her when she was away from her girlfriends because, as any smooth operator knows, the worst cockblocks come from other female friends (especially the plus-sized single ones). So, he waited…
As he saw her head to the Lady’s room, he silently said to himself, It’s go time, and he made his way toward her as if he were walking toward the Men’s bathroom.
“Weren’t you at that weird coffee shop the other day?” Francisco blurted out.
“Why yes, I was. You’re not stalking me, are you?” she replied.
Francisco responded, “Stalking? You think I’m some sly stalker from Spain?”
She laughed, and Francisco continued, “I actually just graduated from a grad program at UW and moved into a place in the neighborhood, and my neighbor suggested this spot. I have to say, I wouldn’t have taken you for an R.E.M type of girl.”
“Oh yeah, so what type did you take me as?”
“I dunno. Taylor Swift, Ariana Grande, or something like that.”
She giggled again and said, “Don’t worry, I just might get white girl wasted tonight and end up singing “Call Me Maybe” by Carly Rae Jepsen”
He chuckled and said, “Unfortunately, I can’t stick around to see that atrocity as I’m headed out.” He extended his hand and said, “By the way, my name is Francisco.”
She extended her arm to his and replied, “Nice to meet you, Francisco. I’m Olivia. Will I see you here next week?”
With a smirky smile and shrug of his shoulders, he replied with a “Maybe,” told her it was nice meeting her, wished her a good night, and turned around and walked out the door. Francisco felt relieved and at ease and slept like a baby that night. And he dreamt…
Is it her?
I can hardly see, but I think it’s her.
As the fog clears, I see her in the distance.
It’s her…It’s her…the one I long for…the one I love.
It has been so long.
Now that I see her, my heart begins to sing a song.
My heart beats like an African drum.
A beat so rhythmic…It’s a beat that brings me to my feet.
She is coming closer.
I see her beautiful face.
A sight that feels so right.
It’s her…the one that keeps me up all night.
The one that makes love feel so right.
She approaches faster, but it feels like an eternity as I long to kiss her soft lips.
How I long to feel her soft skin on my fingertips.
How I long to hold her and stare into her eyes.
It’s her…it’s her…what a surprise.
I knew it had to be her because no one else...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 11.11.2025 |
|---|---|
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen |
| ISBN-13 | 979-8-3178-1330-7 / 9798317813307 |
| Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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