198
R. Linda:
Your hand raised in the air at me, you said, "Hold up Gabe, I think I have an idea."
I knew you were thinking fast to keep me from revealing the stash you hid in your baggy pants. Me eyes narrowed, but I have to tell you, I, like everyone else was consumed with the need of chocolate after the singing and the shirt revealing, but I wasn't that crazed I couldn't stop meself, so I nodded still eyeing the knees of your baggys, me eyes near rolling back in me head at the thought of FUDGE.
"Look, I know we all can't get out of here, but if one of ya can get me up there," you pointed at the ceiling panel, "I have what I call an old lady motorcycle with 3 wheels, a sidecar, leather baggies and a portable air conditioner in the helmet. I can place the helmet in the sidecar for refrigeration and load it up with candy bars and the leather baggies as well and be back here before any melt occurs and the Fat Farm Police break in."
"An we can trustie yer arse to not run offie and git da bikie, fill it wit candy bars an actually cum back here?" Weasil said in a challenging tone.
"Well yes, I will do that because . . . ," you looked at me as I encouraged you with me eyes to continue, "because I uh . . . love you guys, and it takes more than one person to fight this village of Fat Farm Network fanatics."
You looked so smug and I frowned because I was sure you were going to say, "because Gabe is my best friend (not to mention my candy supplier) in the whole wide world and I'd never leave my best friend candy-less." BUT you didn't say that, you said the other and I had to wonder if you really, really could get all that candy you promised, because I knew and you knew that I knew, that you were or are, a voracious candy eater. Nothing is left including the wrappers when you get going on a chocie high.
I inched up to you and whispered out of the side of me mouth, "Don't you dare stop at that underground donut shop either. If you do, I know you won't return."
"Do you really think I'd give you the opportunity of seeming me get on my scooter when we are out of here, with by backside plunked on it without you making some remark about how the scooter makes me look fat? Guess again Gabe, I will be back!" You hissed at me, your face all red, eyes narrowed and hands jammed so far in your baggy pockets you were squishing the fudge bars.
"I will trust you now, but believe me, if you don't come back with candy, I will find that wide angle camera lens and be snapping away the next time I catch you passing by me house on that scooter."
"Like I care. My kids think I look like a circus act on it anyway. First me then the poodle," you shrugged and walked off.
The sharp eared Weasil caught some of our conversation and was quick to ask whether you were taking the three wheeled motorcycle or a scooter.
"MOTORCYCLE! I have a scooter too, but the motorcycle is parked right in that lot across the street. It was in for repair, but I didn't get to pick it up because the Fat Farm Patrol picked me up! Now that we have that out of the way, anyone wanna get that panel moved and I can get some strong men to lift me up so I can get the hell out of here and to the underground candyland before it closes?"
Weasil got himself up on a chair and then planted his feet on me shouldets and up he went. He knocked the ceiling panel up and out of the way, then an older guy put his fingers together and I remember you put your ugly neon pink croc wearing foot in his hand and with a 1 - 2 - 3 alley oop, someone else lifted you up with such force you went soaring over me head and there you were hanging for dear life, your arms wrapped around the head of the Weasil who, had his only fragile hold on not falling down, by clinging to the ceiling panels. Meanwhile his feet were planted on me shoulders and the weight of both of you was making me knees buckle from the swaying and struggling to stay aloft above me head. Some large woman came up behind me, squeezed her fat arms around me waist from the back and was trying to lift me up so the two of you above me wouldn't come crashing down. I have to tell you it was bloody awful. There I was me back being braced by the big woman, but at the same time she was squeezing me so hard the breath was being knocked out of me.
You got up somehow by climbing on the back of the Weasil and got yourself piggy-back on his shoulders, your hands reaching up into the ceiling and you shifted your weight to get a good grip to haul yourself upward, when suddenly the smell of crushed fudge bars hit the Weasil's nose.
"Gawd you've got . . . you know wot you've gottie," he whispered up at you. "Yer a pig ta keep it ta yerself! Did ya even bother ta chew, I kin see the chocie stains on yer knees!"
"Yeah I bothered to chew and ya know what Weasil, it tasted sooo gooood. Laugh my ass off Mr. W. The one fudge bar had peanut butter in it, your favorite and I savoured it and licked the wrapper to oblivion. I'm such a sellout aren't I?" You threw your head back and laughed as his eyes became slits and mean. I knew what he was going to do, he was going to bite the knees of your baggies to get a left over fudge bar, but you were too fast, you gave one good heave ho and up into the air shaft you went. The look of disappointment on the Weasil's face . . . priceless!
End part 6
Copyright © 2007 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Your hand raised in the air at me, you said, "Hold up Gabe, I think I have an idea."
I knew you were thinking fast to keep me from revealing the stash you hid in your baggy pants. Me eyes narrowed, but I have to tell you, I, like everyone else was consumed with the need of chocolate after the singing and the shirt revealing, but I wasn't that crazed I couldn't stop meself, so I nodded still eyeing the knees of your baggys, me eyes near rolling back in me head at the thought of FUDGE.
"Look, I know we all can't get out of here, but if one of ya can get me up there," you pointed at the ceiling panel, "I have what I call an old lady motorcycle with 3 wheels, a sidecar, leather baggies and a portable air conditioner in the helmet. I can place the helmet in the sidecar for refrigeration and load it up with candy bars and the leather baggies as well and be back here before any melt occurs and the Fat Farm Police break in."
"An we can trustie yer arse to not run offie and git da bikie, fill it wit candy bars an actually cum back here?" Weasil said in a challenging tone.
"Well yes, I will do that because . . . ," you looked at me as I encouraged you with me eyes to continue, "because I uh . . . love you guys, and it takes more than one person to fight this village of Fat Farm Network fanatics."
You looked so smug and I frowned because I was sure you were going to say, "because Gabe is my best friend (not to mention my candy supplier) in the whole wide world and I'd never leave my best friend candy-less." BUT you didn't say that, you said the other and I had to wonder if you really, really could get all that candy you promised, because I knew and you knew that I knew, that you were or are, a voracious candy eater. Nothing is left including the wrappers when you get going on a chocie high.
I inched up to you and whispered out of the side of me mouth, "Don't you dare stop at that underground donut shop either. If you do, I know you won't return."
"Do you really think I'd give you the opportunity of seeming me get on my scooter when we are out of here, with by backside plunked on it without you making some remark about how the scooter makes me look fat? Guess again Gabe, I will be back!" You hissed at me, your face all red, eyes narrowed and hands jammed so far in your baggy pockets you were squishing the fudge bars.
"I will trust you now, but believe me, if you don't come back with candy, I will find that wide angle camera lens and be snapping away the next time I catch you passing by me house on that scooter."
"Like I care. My kids think I look like a circus act on it anyway. First me then the poodle," you shrugged and walked off.
The sharp eared Weasil caught some of our conversation and was quick to ask whether you were taking the three wheeled motorcycle or a scooter.
"MOTORCYCLE! I have a scooter too, but the motorcycle is parked right in that lot across the street. It was in for repair, but I didn't get to pick it up because the Fat Farm Patrol picked me up! Now that we have that out of the way, anyone wanna get that panel moved and I can get some strong men to lift me up so I can get the hell out of here and to the underground candyland before it closes?"
Weasil got himself up on a chair and then planted his feet on me shouldets and up he went. He knocked the ceiling panel up and out of the way, then an older guy put his fingers together and I remember you put your ugly neon pink croc wearing foot in his hand and with a 1 - 2 - 3 alley oop, someone else lifted you up with such force you went soaring over me head and there you were hanging for dear life, your arms wrapped around the head of the Weasil who, had his only fragile hold on not falling down, by clinging to the ceiling panels. Meanwhile his feet were planted on me shoulders and the weight of both of you was making me knees buckle from the swaying and struggling to stay aloft above me head. Some large woman came up behind me, squeezed her fat arms around me waist from the back and was trying to lift me up so the two of you above me wouldn't come crashing down. I have to tell you it was bloody awful. There I was me back being braced by the big woman, but at the same time she was squeezing me so hard the breath was being knocked out of me.
You got up somehow by climbing on the back of the Weasil and got yourself piggy-back on his shoulders, your hands reaching up into the ceiling and you shifted your weight to get a good grip to haul yourself upward, when suddenly the smell of crushed fudge bars hit the Weasil's nose.
"Gawd you've got . . . you know wot you've gottie," he whispered up at you. "Yer a pig ta keep it ta yerself! Did ya even bother ta chew, I kin see the chocie stains on yer knees!"
"Yeah I bothered to chew and ya know what Weasil, it tasted sooo gooood. Laugh my ass off Mr. W. The one fudge bar had peanut butter in it, your favorite and I savoured it and licked the wrapper to oblivion. I'm such a sellout aren't I?" You threw your head back and laughed as his eyes became slits and mean. I knew what he was going to do, he was going to bite the knees of your baggies to get a left over fudge bar, but you were too fast, you gave one good heave ho and up into the air shaft you went. The look of disappointment on the Weasil's face . . . priceless!
End part 6
Copyright © 2007 All rights reserved
