This week's prompts were: "Love is a many splendored thing..." or use: chicken, cheee, fiesta or "If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times..." or use any holiday or "And then he said...." or "Well, excuuuuuuuuuse me, Princess!'
Stan and Ollie continues! Last week we saw an obnoxious reporter. Now what? And don't forget to see what my fellow Briefers are up to. Their links follow my tale! Enjoy!
By the time we leave the
park, the white mouse has morphed into the ginger feline once more, a self-satisfied
smirk resting upon her catty lips. I don’t give her any credit for the ploy that
rid us of the annoying reporter. I’m sure it was Ollie’s idea, and he mentally telegraphed
it to her to carry out. Whatever. It worked and she’s gone. At least for now.
Pedestrian traffic is
definitely thinning out; one of the disadvantages of life in a small town.
After dark, the people tend to go home and keep to themselves. There probably
isn’t a whole lot to be learned tonight, but we’ll do what we can.
“We should probably get some
food into you. I bet you’re hungry.” My Ollie has a high metabolism that
requires frequent feeding. A secondary reason why I chose the diner as our hideaway
from the world at large. I have to admit that when we first opened, I wasn’t
the best chef out there. But now I think I can hold my own pretty well. And
Ollie says he prefers my food to anyone else’s, which is all that counts with
me.
Ollie turns grateful eyes my
way, nodding. “I’d like some chicken, if we can find it. Maybe something with
some cheese?”
For you, anything, my love.
Despite the fact that Ollie
seems to be craving a fiesta, I have a feeling we probably won’t find a Mexican
restaurant anywhere in this town, but maybe we can locate someplace that
specializes in down home Southern cuisine, with perhaps a slight nod to our
southern neighbor.
As if reading my mind, Ollie
pulls me in the direction of an elderly gentleman who stands on the sidewalk a
short distance ahead of us, silver head turned upward, admiring the night sky
with a rapt gaze. “Excuse me, sir…”? The man turns, favoring Ollie and Xylina
with his polite gaze, then looks at me, before replying.
‘Yes, sir? May I be of some
assistance to you?” Of course he realizes we’re not native to these parts. Our
status as strangers envelops us like a red neon light. Or an invisible caption
that hangs between us that reads, ‘careful,
they’re not from around here’.
“We’ve just arrived in
Cortez, and we wondered if you might be able to direct us to the best place to
get a good chicken dinner?”
“Why certainly, certainly.”
He graciously grins. “Aunt Hettie’s Fixin’s, over on Charleston Avenue. I can
personally vouch for the fact that they serve the best chicken you’ll find within
a hundred miles.”
He gives us detailed directions, although I’m
fairly sure that you can find anyplace in this small burg with just a bit of
walking. We thank the gentleman most graciously and continue on our way.
“Shouldn’t we stop by the
hotel first?” I pointedly ask. Ollie knows what I mean; I intend to make a
deposit. In other words, drop off the Fur Princess and make this an evening for
two. She stiffens in Ollie’s arms—it’s bad enough he has his hands full of cat
and I can’t take his hand in mine, and don’t even think that isn’t
deliberate—the fur on her back standing straight up as she hisses at me in her
native tongue. Thank goodness, I have no idea what that translates to, nor do I
care to know.
Ollie looks between me and
his pampered pet, his brow slightly furrowed, and a twinge of guilt assails me
for putting him in a position where he must choose between her and me. But only
a slight one, and I get over it, because I’m very selfish where he is
concerned, and I don’t see that changing any time in the near future.
He strokes her luxurious fur.
I watch in fascination as it swirls about his fingertips, curling about them
while her defiant hiss becomes a contented purr. No one can handle that damn
cat like he can, I’ll grant him that.
He lowers his head so that
his lips are against her ear, and I hear the whispered cadence of his gentle
voice, although the words are indistinguishable. Xylina’s tail rises and falls
in a languid motion before curling up into a question mark, then relaxing once
again.
“Thank you, Xy,” he murmurs,
setting her on her feet. She trots off
without a backward glance, although I can easily decipher her parting shot at
me as her tail takes on the shape of an arrow, aimed at a certain portion of
her anatomy. Message received, loud and clear. And I still don’t care. I’ve
gotten rid of her and that’s all that matters to me.
“Where’s her majesty off to?”
I take advantage of her absence to claim his arm once more as we stroll
leisurely in the direction of the restaurant.
“I asked her to do a little reconnaissance,
see if she can find any sign of Consuelo.”
That makes sense. Finding
her body would give us more of a starting point.
Aunt Hettie’s seems to be
the most popular place in town. Judging by the population of Cortez, at least
half of them seem to be crowded into this fine dining establishment. Still,
with Ollie’s charm, and my persistence, we find ourselves seated at the bar,
awaiting the next open table. I order a
beer for myself, a Shirley Temple for Ollie, ignoring the look my order
receives. He can’t tolerate alcohol; it’s poison to his system.
The décor seems to be a
blend of country chic and Confederate charm, Rebel flags mingling with wicker
baskets and ruffled roosters. The South is rising again.
Suddenly, a hush falls over
the diners, a silence so profound you can hear the sounds of sizzling from the
kitchen.
“Bodean, your table’s ready.”
At that moment he’s joined by a companion—a waif-like honey-blonde in a dress
so short you can see all the way to Canada without trying.
“Hello, Papa Bear,” she greets him.
to be continued
Now go visit my fellow Briefers and enjoy some more flash fiction!
Xylina is growing on me. I really like her command of body language. :) I confess being a little confused over the Bodean at the end. Another character, I think? Even without a description, he sounds interesting. :D
ReplyDeleteI'm confused over the significance of Bodean, and the little tart, myself. :P But I figure it's just to lead up to next week. Xylina is definitely great comic relief. I could just see her sashaying away in that walk cats have with her tail pointed at her ass. LOL
ReplyDeleteGreat story Julie, I need to go back and read the rest but a good starting point
ReplyDeleteArggh - I just get settled in to the story and you write - to be continued!
ReplyDelete