Law # 95: There’s a reason they’re called bombshells. . .
I was loitering in any random supermarket parking lot when my peripheral vision detected two objects moving steadily, intentionally in my direction. A casual head turn to the left revealed to me a pair of unfathomably magnificent females intent upon arriving at my location. As that I was accompanied only by Stu I assumed (by process of elimination) that they, or one of them, had business to conduct with one or the other of us. Perhaps both. The look on their faces was that of uncertain familiarity, such as the look you give when in a social setting, somebody cracks a hilarious joke that you yourself don’t quite get. A disconcerted smile, slightly downcast eyes to disbetray the unrest within. She who led approached, hesitated, then approached again, splitting the pair of jeweled salmon lips that grace the lower third of her face – a face that, if transformed into a ninja would have jujitsu-chopped its way straight into my heart to deliver instant gratifying death – and uttered the perfect question, “Do I know you?” Addressed to me.
Think quickly, man! “I think so!” Returned I. A sly wink aimed at Stu.
“Do you know Veronica?” With a build in her confidence and energy, along with a large man-slaying smile.
Veronica?? “Sure do!” I lied.
“You’re Matt, right? ‘The Fighter?’”
Sweet! “That’s me! You wanna see some moves?” I speak while assuming a mock-kickboxer stance, hopping back and forth facing her with clenched, raised fists. Stu snickers behind me.
She backs up a step, giggling, “No, that’s alright. Besides,” reaching into her purse, “I’m carrying some mace,” she warns while she and the she that accompanied her turned to each other with appreciative smiles.
“Well, I have this one move that can both disarm and seduce you in under five seconds.” I return smoothly. “I’d love to show it to you.” This given with an intent-filled laser eye and a grin.
“Maybe some other time.” Her diamond-studded voice sounding humorously inviting, while looking me up and down. “We’re going to Veronica’s party tonight, are you going to be there?”
At this point my eye starts twitching, and I loose my composure. Stu and I nearly roll with laughter and I explain her mistake. Surprisingly, she and her friend find it a marvelous joke as well – no hard feelings that are so typical of gorgeous women when they are taken advantage of in like manner.
“I think this means you each owe us a drink!” She proclaims, and her friend agrees.
“It’s a date then!” This eagerly from Stu, with a smile.
* * * * *
Over various and assorted cola beverages, we find ourselves in cheery, lighthearted conversation at a local sushi bar. The topics of conversation have ranged from the basic get-to-know-you questionnaires to the malicious nature of refrigerator fungus. Anyone within the restaurant can tell there is an abundance of chemistry titrating in out little corner.
She goes by Kate, but her real name is Catherine. She doesn’t like her full name because, said she, “It sounds too grandmotherly. Like the kind of grandmother who has her tea and crumpets served precisely at two in the afternoon with her entertainees in the east garden. . .” This voiced in an unnatural high voice with a faux-British accent. And we all laugh merrily.
“She hates being called Catherine!” Her friend Meg reemphasizes, “If you ever want to get her angry, just call her that.”
I can tell that Stu is majorly digging on Meg, and thank god for that! Leaves Kate all to myself. Hmmmm. . . maybe I should find out if there is a psychopathic ex out there somewhere.
“I’ll make sure to remember that one.” I say in return. “Ah! Those are mine.” I say to the Japanese waitress who asked who had the South Beach Rolls. She delves out the several plates to the proper owners, asks if there is anything else she can do, and departs.
“Mmmm, I love sushi!” Meg proclaims.
“Oh, me too!” Stu replies, but I know he lies, I can see it in his eyes. Well disguised. He’s trying his best not to breathe through his nose. However, I truly do love sushi, as long as it has cream cheese in it.
Stu looks at me from the corner of his eye, slyly, then back at Meg. I know that look. “So, if you could have any superpower in the world, what would it be?” I knew a question like this would come up sometime tonight from Stu. Clever execution, though.
Meg answers, “Oh, jeez. I guess I’d like to turn invisible ‘n stuff. I guess.” She shrugs her soulders and looks at Kate, then me, then back to Stu. “Or maybe fly. Yeah, I’d like to turn invisible and fly.” Giggle giggle.
“Well, what if you had to choose only one?”
“Oh . . . I guess then . . . I’d probably want to hear what people are thinking, then. You know, like, if some hot guy wanted to ask me out, but was too shy or afraid to ask me out, you know. Or thought, ‘Well, maybe because I just met her, it would be like acting too fast to ask her out already,’ and then I could go give some subtle hints to help him make the right decision to ask me out ‘n stuff. . .”
“Hey Meg, will you go out with me?” Stu asks quickly.
“I thought you’d never ask!” Meg replies with a huge smile.
“Let’s get out of here, then.” Stu suggests. “If three’s a crowd, then four’s a crime!” He asks their leave of us and they walks out arm in arm, talking and giggling together.
“Well, that was sick and revolting!” I say right before they are out of earshot, leaving the sushi bar. Stu shoots a quick look back at that, biting his clenched fist with a furrowed brow.
Kate laughs, “Yeah, I could tell she was majorly digging on your British friend there.” She says a moment later.
“So how about you?” I ask.
“How about me, what?”
“What superpower would you have?” Now I’m curious.
“Oh, I already have a superpower,” She replies smugly.
“Yeah? What is it?” I reply, surprised.
“Its really impressive.” She sits up straight in her chair, holding her hands out prophetically, and slowly proclaims, “I have the ability to fall asleep on demand!” She demonstrates by drawing both hands back, tucked together below her tilted head and pauses for a dramatic awed silence. She peeks through one squinty eye to see if the effect has landed.
“Really?” I react in faux-stunned amazement. “So how does that work?”
“I don’t know, its something I’ve always been able to do. I just decide to fall asleep, and whammo!” She slaps the tabletop, “Instant REM. Would you like a demonstration?” Excitedly now.
“I don’t know.” I reply, slowly, unsure, “Can you really do that here as well? I mean in public?”
“Anywhere, anytime.”
“Well, how will I know you’re really asleep? That’s an easy think to fake.”
“I don’t know, just derive your own way to make sure.”
“Like what? I’m not sure how I can decently ensure that you’re asleep or not. . . short of punching you, that is. Don’t really want to do that,” I speak thoughtfully, “Are you ticklish?”
“Horrendously!”
“Where?”
“The yoozh: Armpits, ribs, feet, etcetera. Go ahead, try.” She raises her arms, offering her armpits for experimentation.
I reach over the table with one hand and suddenly sumo-pinch her across the knee with the other concealed below the table. She yelps, nearly jumping out of her seat, banging the assaulted knee on the underside of the table, overturning her glass of diet coke, spilling my direction, of course.
“Aaaah, MURPHY!” I curse, leaping out of my seat before I’m soaked too thoroughly.
“Oh, I hate him!” Kate says laughing, rubbing her assaulted knee, “You weren’t supposed to go for the knee! Shame on you!”
“Well I had to catch you unawares.” I’m laughing as well, “This is awesome! At least I now have a way to prove it. I’m pretty sure you couldn’t have faked that reaction. Don’t worry about the slacks. It’ll wash out. Eventually.”
We spend a minute cleaning up the table and my seat with napkins. She sits down once again and asks, “Okay, are we ready for this?”
“Are you wanting to do it now?”
“Oh baby yeah! Better here in public where you can’t get away with anything lewd,” with a smile that forces me to think naughty, then lowers her voice and whispers, “We just met, after all.”
“Well, sure. That’s fair, I suppose,” I say, a little disconcertedly, “Alright, bring it on!” I beckon with my fingers.
“Here we go.” She breaths in deeply, ties back her hair into a pony tail, and places her palms on the tabletop at shoulder width. Perfect posture. Fabulous rack. She looks me square in the eye for a moment, those deep hazel eyes more green than brown, hypnotically drowning me in an endless void where nothing else exists but that cherubic face, perfectly heart-shaped and longingly looking into mine, enticingly, invitingly. I could gaze forever into that deep well – but what’s this? They’re now suddenly glassing over, lids drooping with a slack jaw. An instant later her head keels over and limply falls to the table with a piercing thump.
My mouth drops open, and all eyes in the room turn to look at our table.
A little flushed, I speak loudly so all can hear, “Sorry, uh, she’s a narcoleptic. She’ll be alright.” I pat her head reassuringly, and the eyes slowly return to their business. A few quick laughs from various surprised patrons.
“Uh, Kate?” I ask.
No response.
“Kaaate.” Tapping her head.
No response.
“Catherine?” I speak, flinchingly.
No response.
“Fine, let’s try this.” I reach over and squeeze her knees repeatedly.
No response.
“Hmmm. Not quite convinced.” I say to her aloud, just in case. Tipping her head over to the side, I inspect her eyes one at a time. Dilated and dancing in random patterns.
“Hmmm.” I sit back in my seat, contemplatively. The room falls silent for an instant.
THUD
From the very edge of my vision, I see a splatter of red cross the windowpane at the same instant as the sound. I jump out of the seat as my cerebral cortex perceives the hamburgered dead face that is mushed up against the glass immediately opposite mine. A single wide glaring eye looks dead at me. The women in the room begin to scream.
“HOLY ROQUEFORT!!” I shout, “Kate get up! Don’t look out the window!” The ground begins to shake as all hell breaks loose at once.
No response.
