Bottom Feeder

 “Always,” he screamed at me. “She always calls me about a body when I’m trying to eat dinner!”

I paused, holding the battered appetizer I’d lifted to taste – the perfection of deep-fry timing at the best Japanese restaurant Rumor, Wyoming has to offer — there, inches from my lips.  Beyond this perfection, his pig-red, puffing face meets my paused glance.  To respond or to bite?  This is the question considered. 

I bite the tempura shrimp in half and lower the tail away to use like a conductor’s baton, shake it with some ferocity over stemmed chardonnay and screw my head around to snap back in a nod that says Ab-soh-LUTE-ly!

“If only she had your heart, your sensibilities,” he mewls, complexion faded to a near-normal fleshy pink.

I pout my lips as if to say, Now Charles, she’s your wife and you picked her out, all on your ownsome, from a whole fleet of Wanna-Be-Mrs.-Charles-Hueter’s all docked at the Hueter Mortuary and Funeral Services Franchise Corporate Offices; I finger-feed him the next shrimp.  He takes it off at the tail, right at my fingertips, his breathing moist on my knuckles.

Without saying a word, I will maneuver this big fish into my boat.  His wife is already a “body” – they just don’t know; no one knows the notches I have on my creel.  Or how often I’ve slipped through the nets of the system.  (A wink will do wonders! And a pout has more clout than words.  Ask me!  I have tales . . . Sh-h-h – not here.)

Published in: on 1, March 13, 2008 at 5:11  Comments (1)  

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One CommentLeave a comment

  1. I love that Rumor appears here. And a different twist on the Black Widow story – she kills the wives!


    PS I found myself using Rumor as background for something also.

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