199
R. Linda:
There you were in the air shaft on hands and knees, slowly making your way through the dusty air ducts, when you suddenly could feel the warmth of mushed fudge on your knees.
"Aw crap!" You declared as you rolled over on your back and shoved your hands deep into your baggy pockets to retrieve what was left of the mushed fudge.
"Are you all right up there?" I shouted not knowing what you were upset over.
"Yeah, Gabe, just a lot of cobwebs, and I hate cobwebs," you said, stuffing bits and pieces of the crushed fudge bars in your mouth. I couldn't understand what you said after that because your mouth was crammed full, and I thought perhaps you had moved on, and I couldn't hear you well. But no, if I had really thought about it, I would have realised for meself you had the fudge out of sight of everyone and were indulging in a chocie feast while the rest of us were standing under the open ceiling panel, hoping you were obstruction free to the outside world and an underground candy source. Stupid us, and even worse, stupid me.
You closed your eyes in delight, relishing the smooth fudge floating softly down your throat. The ums and ahs of pleasure drifted back to us. Weasil figured it out as he sniffed the air.
"FUDGE! SHE HAZ FUDGIE, I CANNIE SMELL IT! LETTA ME UP DERE SUM ONE."
He was crawling up me, his toe caught in me waistband as he tried to haul his arse up to the open ceiling, but all the struggling and clawing of me head made me mad. I sidestepped the ceiling opening just as he made a mad reach for it, and over the top of me head he went like Jonny Fairplay and smashed to the floor. I could hear his teeth breaking and turned around, feeling very Donnie Bonaduce-like.
He lay there, sprawled out on the floor face down, one hand to his mouth. I could see the blood seeping between his fingers, and as he turned to me, I saw several broken teeth.
"Ow," he said, looking at me, his brow furled in consternation.
"Sorry," I squawked, but not really sorry at all. Why should he have the stashed fudge and me, who knew about it, have none?
Meanwhile, up in the air duct, you had swallowed the last of the creamy mushy fudge and were talking to yourself about buying a pair of clown suspenders (we call them braces where I come from) to better hold up the baggys.
"Yeah, purple tee, rainbow suspenders, and my ugly shoes," you sighed. I could hear you faintly when I realised what was about to happen.
"NO, DO NOT FALL ASLEEP!"
You mumbled on, oblivious to me shouting.
"I must look like I have change in my baggys. I always get asked, and I always give it up," you chuckled to yourself, eyes beginning to close. "The stories never change, car broke down, need bus money, have 3 kids and need to buy some food, left abusive husband, oh you have to hear this one, I was going into Walgreens, and this guy is shaking, saying he's crashing and can't check his blood sugar, his glucometer got broken. I gave the guy my gas money." (Sigh) "When I got into the car, he ran across the street to a Blockbuster. I must have the letter S on my forehead. In Spanish, it is the letter P for pendeja. There IS one guy who has a good one. He holds a cardboard sign saying that his spaceship broke down and he needs spare change to buy parts to fix it. I have given away more gas money in the last year. I could have filled up my tank 3 times over for 25 bucks. I only get a little more than a quarter of a tank. My car is a gas pig."
We all stood there listening to you rambling, wondering what was happening.
"Must be a chocie seizure. Happens to me sometimes." A woman standing near me offered as we all continued to stare at the ceiling.
"I am going to Colorado Mills Underground Mall in about 3 weeks. I don't know if the shop is still there, but they have the best fudge truffles. If the weather is hot, I'll freeze them. Ah, a little taste of heaven, oh and Gabe, I sold out again and had another Reese's Peanut Butter cup. I hid it so the kiddies wouldn't find it. It melted in my pocket. It was a mini, and I practically had to chew off the foil," and then you sighed, seemingly contented, and closed your eyes. The next thing we could hear was you snoring.
End of part 7
Copyright © 2007 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
There you were in the air shaft on hands and knees, slowly making your way through the dusty air ducts, when you suddenly could feel the warmth of mushed fudge on your knees.
"Aw crap!" You declared as you rolled over on your back and shoved your hands deep into your baggy pockets to retrieve what was left of the mushed fudge.
"Are you all right up there?" I shouted not knowing what you were upset over.
"Yeah, Gabe, just a lot of cobwebs, and I hate cobwebs," you said, stuffing bits and pieces of the crushed fudge bars in your mouth. I couldn't understand what you said after that because your mouth was crammed full, and I thought perhaps you had moved on, and I couldn't hear you well. But no, if I had really thought about it, I would have realised for meself you had the fudge out of sight of everyone and were indulging in a chocie feast while the rest of us were standing under the open ceiling panel, hoping you were obstruction free to the outside world and an underground candy source. Stupid us, and even worse, stupid me.
You closed your eyes in delight, relishing the smooth fudge floating softly down your throat. The ums and ahs of pleasure drifted back to us. Weasil figured it out as he sniffed the air.
"FUDGE! SHE HAZ FUDGIE, I CANNIE SMELL IT! LETTA ME UP DERE SUM ONE."
He was crawling up me, his toe caught in me waistband as he tried to haul his arse up to the open ceiling, but all the struggling and clawing of me head made me mad. I sidestepped the ceiling opening just as he made a mad reach for it, and over the top of me head he went like Jonny Fairplay and smashed to the floor. I could hear his teeth breaking and turned around, feeling very Donnie Bonaduce-like.
He lay there, sprawled out on the floor face down, one hand to his mouth. I could see the blood seeping between his fingers, and as he turned to me, I saw several broken teeth.
"Ow," he said, looking at me, his brow furled in consternation.
"Sorry," I squawked, but not really sorry at all. Why should he have the stashed fudge and me, who knew about it, have none?
Meanwhile, up in the air duct, you had swallowed the last of the creamy mushy fudge and were talking to yourself about buying a pair of clown suspenders (we call them braces where I come from) to better hold up the baggys.
"Yeah, purple tee, rainbow suspenders, and my ugly shoes," you sighed. I could hear you faintly when I realised what was about to happen.
"NO, DO NOT FALL ASLEEP!"
You mumbled on, oblivious to me shouting.
"I must look like I have change in my baggys. I always get asked, and I always give it up," you chuckled to yourself, eyes beginning to close. "The stories never change, car broke down, need bus money, have 3 kids and need to buy some food, left abusive husband, oh you have to hear this one, I was going into Walgreens, and this guy is shaking, saying he's crashing and can't check his blood sugar, his glucometer got broken. I gave the guy my gas money." (Sigh) "When I got into the car, he ran across the street to a Blockbuster. I must have the letter S on my forehead. In Spanish, it is the letter P for pendeja. There IS one guy who has a good one. He holds a cardboard sign saying that his spaceship broke down and he needs spare change to buy parts to fix it. I have given away more gas money in the last year. I could have filled up my tank 3 times over for 25 bucks. I only get a little more than a quarter of a tank. My car is a gas pig."
We all stood there listening to you rambling, wondering what was happening.
"Must be a chocie seizure. Happens to me sometimes." A woman standing near me offered as we all continued to stare at the ceiling.
"I am going to Colorado Mills Underground Mall in about 3 weeks. I don't know if the shop is still there, but they have the best fudge truffles. If the weather is hot, I'll freeze them. Ah, a little taste of heaven, oh and Gabe, I sold out again and had another Reese's Peanut Butter cup. I hid it so the kiddies wouldn't find it. It melted in my pocket. It was a mini, and I practically had to chew off the foil," and then you sighed, seemingly contented, and closed your eyes. The next thing we could hear was you snoring.
End of part 7
Copyright © 2007 All rights reserved
