Trapped in Time continues with the crazy antics of three guys who find themselves trapped in prehistoric times. Today's question is - what is Charlie's idea of breakfast, and will it be edible? Stay tuned! Then be sure to check out all the other Wednesday Briefers, whose links follow my tale.
Trapped in Time #11
Vittorio continues to console me as I choke out my feelings against his
chest for what I’ve done, my negligence in leaving behind my faithful pennyfarthing.
Suddenly I’m taken by surprise by a pair of strong arms.
“Don’t be sad, Doll!” Charlie cries, throwing his arms about
me from behind, and suddenly I find myself the filling in a Doll sandwich.
Luckily Myron refrains from adding a bit of pickle to the mix.
“We’ll get it, don’t worry,” Vittorio whispers to me. He
pulls out his handkerchief from his pocket, and although it’s lost something of
its usual starch, probably due to the humidity, he dabs at my eyes, and then
tells me to blow and I obey.
Charlie kisses my cheek before returning to Myron. He takes
his hand, and leans down to him, kissing him with a great deal of passion and
enthusiasm, before he announces, “Let us get our food!” And once again he’s
leading the way, Vittorio and I bringing up the rear.
I’m not sure what I am expecting. It’s not as though we’re
likely to find an automat here, in the middle of the jungle, even though they
are very popular back home. It’s a very efficient idea; a quick and easy way to
obtain one’s food when one is not at home.
Somehow I doubt there are any of those here. In fact, I am
rather skeptical as to just what we will find when we finish this trek through
the jungle.
Which we’ve just done, apparently. I stop short of running
into Vittorio, and look around me. It looks exactly like every other bit of
jungle we’ve seen thus far—full of trees veiled with vines, large broad-leafed
plants, swampy areas, and assorted small creatures that skitter from view too
fast to ascertain what they might actually be.
“Where are we?” The question needs to be asked, so I ask it.
“Home!” Charlie proclaims proudly.
Home where? We glance around. Not as though I had expected
Charlie the monkey to possess any sort of man-made structure—according to
Darwin, we’re far too early on the evolutionary scale to expect our forebears
to put in an appearance—but I did expect… something.
“Home up there!” Charlie points up into the tree he stands
under; all our gazes rise skyward.
“What do you think about
this, Vittorio?”
“Well, I think that it
is logical that Charlie lives in a tree.”
Does this mean we have to climb the tree in order to have
breakfast? That is an idea that I
don’t particularly relish.
As if he can read my
mind, Charlie says, “I shall be right back.” He begins to shinny up the huge
tree until he is lost from sight.
While we wait, I can’t
help but stare at Myron. Is it my imagination, or does his complexion seem to
have cleared up a little? He seems fidgety, standing first on one foot, then
the other. It suddenly dawns on me why that is, and I cannot help a slightly
evil grin, knowing the cause of his discomfort. I catch his eye; he turns beet
red, and looks quickly away.
Before I can say
anything, Charlie climbs back down the tree with an armful of something—don’t
ask me how he managed that without the use of his tail. He’s positively
prehensile!
So, what have we for
breakfast, and how quickly can we eat it?
He lays his burden onto
the ground, stands back and surveys us as though he has just done something
wonderful. And perhaps he has. We all gather around to see what he’s brought
us. I see what appears to be bananas, and something else that might be another
type of fruit. As well as a mass of leaves.
Not exactly what I had
in mind.
Charlie takes one of the
bananas, peels it, and holds it out toward Myron, who blushes but accepts it,
biting off the tip. Vittorio peels one for me, and I turn my attention to my
love.
“Eat this for me, Doll,”
he croons. I open my mouth obligingly and take the banana in. It tastes okay, I
guess, and fruit is healthy. I reciprocate by sharing this piece of fruit with Vittorio.
“I have something else!”
Charlie cries. He gets on his hands and knees and starts rooting around some
plants with bifurcated leaves. “Ah ha!” he cries. He cups his hands for us to
see. In the middle of it are a number of wriggling things that I cannot
identify at first, until I realize that those are some sort of bugs. What’s he
going to do with those?
I’m sorry I asked as he
takes one and wolfs it down, then hands one to Myron. Myron doesn’t look very
excited at the prospect of adding insects to his diet.
“For you, Myron,”
Charlie says lovingly, and holds the bugs out toward his lover again. Myron’s
face turns ten shades of pale. He takes an wriggling insect from Charlie’s
grasp and opens his mouth.
I cannot watch, so I
turn away. It’s obvious to me that we need a little more… variety in our diet.
“Doll, you have to eat,”
Vittorio whispers to me.
“Not bugs I don’t,” I
insist, perhaps petulantly, but firmly. Not if I were starving and on my
deathbed. Some things are simply not meant to be ingested. Insects are one of
those things.
The next thing I know
Charlie is standing beside us, holding out his offerings and smiling at us with
the warmth of a hundred suns.
“Please eat,” he said. “We
have a long journey ahead of us.”
A what? Where?
Vittorio, ever the
diplomat, takes a couple of small bugs. I don’t even want to hazard a guess as
to what they are.
“To see the Professor.
He’s the smartest man in the jungle. He can help you.”
There’s another man in
this place? Who knew? And how did he get here?
to be continued
Nephylim m/m
MA Church m/m
Victoria Blisse m/f
Sara York m/m
Tali m/m
Until next time, take care!
♥ Julie
