"Really?"
"Well, no, not so much. Just the chips, really." Her hands did the sort of things you do with your hands after uttering a mildly embarrassing statement, even if the mildly embarrassing statement happens to be false and the correcting statement happens to be rather expected. To stop her hands from doing that she fiddled with the crocheted handle of her handbag, which didn't do a whole lot towards convincing anyone her embarrassment was gone. In fact, that was just the sort of thing some people might have done initially, if they were looking for something for their hands to do to draw their mind away from what it is they'd just said. "Good chips, still."
"I'd imagine so." He spooned some more soup towards his mouth, in a distinctively un-embarrassd manner. The bastard. He also nodded at the same time, as the soup was on the way up, as if to rub it in.
"Cherry-flavoured."
"The chips or the orgy?"
Damn. He was listening and not just auto-piloting answers. And she was definitely not listening, it turned out. Nor was she even checking things before they went over her lips and out into the public soundscape. Next thing she'd find would be her own voice telling him that she loved him and had imagined what colour dog they'd get together, as it was handy they both liked dogs, though she hated the way he sighed loudly all the time, like he was having trouble breathing or something and it always seemed like an indictment of whatever it was just preceded the sigh. She'd also probably address his massage technique, which he thought was brilliant, or at least she assumed he did due to the large stupid grin on his face after administering one, but left her feeling strangely, well, bruised. And not all that strangely, if you considered his technique consisted of pushing bits of her until they became softer, which, due to his somewhat lack of knowledge in the anatomical arena, included bones and major pieces of cartilage which she really preferred stiff and more or less not malleable. But still, anything, mostly, to keep him happy and feeling like he was helping. Or useful. Or something. That would put a brilliant cap on the evening. Ah well, at least there was still some small chance he was auto-piloting; that was one thing he'd shown considerable skill in doing, and the chips/orgy pairing might have popped up out of the swill of his subconscious. "Ehm, chips. Orgy. Not sure, really." She smiled weakly, with her mouth shut firm. Just in case.
He smiled, himself, less worried about his mouth, obviously, because he parted his lips to smile the goofy sort of smile he did which she didn't altogether mind. Some might say she sort of fancied it. Though, for the love of, oh my *!, not the big green blob in his teeth!
The big glob of green stuff, which wasn't all that big, really, but it was still quite bright green, which made her feel all right with her internal description, was still hanging from his teeth. It was sort of like a malleable stalactite, hanging from one of his upper teeth, swaying, really. A disgusting bright green globby thing, hanging there like an unsaid word, an unsaid word that looked like soggy lettuce.
Like the loved ones we all have or have had.
disclaimer:
The serial will still be back, just not this week, if you've gotten this far and didn't realise it wasn't the pub. Err, serial. The serial. Not the pub. The serial.
Meanwhile, for those of you wishing to brush up on the serial now coming to be known as the Great Untitled (and Titled) Serial, we've provided a handy navigation for it right here:
- Untitled No. 4 in Black
- Untitled No. 5 in Black-ish-Grey
- Untitled No. 6 with a Title (Attempted Seduction)
- Untitled No. 7, Untitled Again
You will note that there is no Untitled Nos. 1-3, so don't go looking. And stop asking after them.
Yer Weekly Horoscopes. Dude.