From the Floor
I had distinct impressions of color: a trail of purple, blue, red, and green bubbles in front of me. So I took a swing at them. That's what I do. Something was sizzling a few feet away, which I thought wasn't very safe of them to leave something like that going so near me. I couldn't smell anything, well, anything cooking, anyway. I could smell plenty, other than that. I was mildly surprised this crew hadn't smelled it, but then I wasn't holding out for a miracle. Which is when it happened, of course. A miracle.
At the sound of footsteps, I turned, swiveled in my seat, really, to face the oncoming person, and the non-smells of the kitchen were replaced by a veritable forest of chair and table legs and then, there it was!
I had been looking for that my whole life! And there it was, in the big man's hands!
I tried to catch his attention, but I think my jerk may have done the trick (I always jerk back when I turn quickly like that, especially when having a rush of stuff by my face opening out into a great expanse of nothingness and rug, I wish I wouldn't, but it seems to be involuntary thus far), and he bent down, the Holy Grail coming mere inches from my fingers, my damned short little fingers, just unable to reach out and grab it away!
He missed the point for a few more seconds, but must have seen my face, straining, willing my fingers to grow longer and just chance upon a touch of the thing, this thing I'd been waiting my whole life to hold!
So he gave it to me. It was cool to the touch. Cold, even, I might say. Frost skittered away from where my fingers touched its surface. I took one tentative bite. Well, so far as I could. Still cool to the touch. My mouth went slightly numb, which caused me to smile, involuntarily. And then it would have been voluntary, if I'd been able to move my mouth, because it dawned on me that I was finally holding the Holy Grail, the Thing That Gave My Life Meaning. In my hands! In my mouth! Drips of melting frost-cicles were dripping on my legs! That was cold, too! I clutched it a little closer to me. From the cold tingling sensation against the bottom of my nose I surmised that it had slipped out of my mouth at some point. I pressed my lips to the surface, and something crinkled inside.
It was... simply... precious.
I felt bad, wrestling the frozen tangy asian chicken, or whatever it was, away from the boy, he looked so happy, drooling all over the package. And looked shocked and sad when I took it up and away, and cut the top open with a steak knife out of his sight on the counter.
But he looked up at me for a few ticks, and leaned over, as if he could see the counter if he just bent over far enough, perhaps to the point of falling out of the exersaucer. And then he went back to his other baubles, as if the chicken had never existed at all.
disclaimer:
We're off to work on our plans for world domination... err, moving back to New England, hope you enjoyed the issue.
And if you couldn't identify with it, well, you've never had Trader Joe's frozen chicken dinners when you're feeling lazy. Or you have, and you're taller than 3 feet or so.
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