Monday, June 11, 2012
Fifty Shades Effed - Chapter Two
"Top o' the morning to you, Ms. Aspinwald," I greet and bow.
"I'd like French Toast with cinnamon butter."
"Wouldn't you prefer blueberry muffins with a side of rabbit?" I sneer. I can hardly look at her since she defiled my glove.
"You do realize, Blobber, that this wedding isn't going to happen."
"It most certainly is going to happen. Didn't you get the invitation? This Saturday, Coronado Beach, noon-ish. Guests are encouraged to bring covered plates. I could sign you up for deviled eggs."
"Chris is a powerful man. I don't know if you're more brave or stupid ... I'm betting on stupid."
"You know dill-weed has a girlfriend, right? Annie, I believe, was her name. Innocent thing with horrible taste in men."
"She's insignificant," Grandma sniffs as she pushes her reading glasses up her nose and stares at printed pages. "Do you know what this is, Blobber?"
"An excerpt from my blob?"
"Five forty five."
"Ah, it's your weight analysis," I respond while dipping bread in egg batter.
"It's your credit score."
Nosy little nit.
"You're behind on mortgage payments and you have four maxed-out credit cards."
"I also have an hairy mole on my ass," I respond while glaring at her.
"My granddaughter will soon realize you're marrying her to get your hands on my money. She'll dispose of you like dryer lint."
"I'm marrying her because I love her, and I'll gladly sign a pre-nup."
"Why don't you accept the offer from Chris, pay off your debts, and find a more appropriate mate--perhaps one with four legs."
"You two will never buy me off. Stop wasting your time."
"Warm up my coffee, and flip those before they burn."
I endure breakfast with the beast as I hear the shower turn off and wait for my love to rescue me.
"I must admit, you're a decent cook. I could put in a word for you at Denny's," Grandma remarks.
"How kind of you."
As Bea emerges from the bedroom in her silk robe, Grandma rises to leave. Naturally, she places my credit report in front of Bea on her way out.
"Have a wonderful morning. Bea, your future ex isn't a bad cook at all. He'll make someone a nice housewife someday," Grandma remarks as she exits.
"You made her breakfast? You're such a sweetie," Bea compliments as she crumbles the credit report, tosses it in the garbage, and checks the pan. "Ooh, French Toast. Are these for me?"
"And, I see you found the syrup," she teases as she dangles the Mrs. Butterworth from her index finger. "I love syrup."
"Do you know what I'm going to do with that syrup later?"
I take the bottle from her, squeeze a dot on my left index finger, and place it in her mouth. She sucks the tip, teasingly. I slide my finger down her chin, over her neck, and down her chest, parting her robe as I do. Bea tips her head back. I squeeze a bit more between her breasts and let it run a bit before catching the sugary stream with my tongue and planting a sweet kiss on her soft lips.
"I'm going to coat you and lick you to nirvana."