07 May Quarantine and Chill: Chapter Twelve.

This is a Science-Fiction Story and a complete work of fiction, meant entirely for entertainment. I write these stories as writing practice.

In the evening:

I had setup a table outside under the awning in our backyard for her and I to enjoy a peaceful dinner. It was raining and there’s something about dining while it rains. The sound of rain always seems to create a rhythmic atmosphere for delightful conversation. For every seven minutes of chatter, there’s always seven minutes of silence; whether that’s consecutive or sparse, but the soothing sound of rain artistically fills that void of silence.

She stuck her fork into a piece of chicken breast and used her knife to cut through as I lit two candles in the middle of the table. I’ve always admired how graceful she was when she eats. There are just some people that know how to eat; they have certain elegance in their etiquette, the way that they use their utensils is focused and attentive. I’ve always found myself to be a sloppy eater, maybe its because I’m left-handed, or maybe its because I’ve never disciplined myself to be proper in that manner. I found that there is a correlation between the way people use utensils and what their handwriting looks like. Some people have beautiful handwriting, which is also a skill that I do not have. Other than eating and handwriting though, my hand-eye coordination is pristine and damn near perfect.

She took a bite of the chicken that she cut, placed her fork and knife next to each other on the table then unfolded her napkin and wiped her lips. Like I said, some people are very routinely proper while they eat. She took a sip of red wine then pressed her lips in a way that enhanced their natural color as she looked at me and said, “Are you able to do that whenever you want?”

I stuck my fork into the chicken, raised the entire breast to my face and took a bite. I then washed it down with a few loud gulps of red wine as I wiped my lips with my sleeve. I then confusedly responded, “Do what?”

She then used her fork to scrape some rice onto her fork, as elegantly as I had ever seen while she said, “Do what you did. You know what I’m talking about. I saw it with my own eyes.”

I tried to mimic her mannerisms, but the rice just ended up going everywhere, including off of the plate. Slightly frustrated, I tried to charm her instead, “Did I mention how beautiful you look this evening?”

She took the napkin off of her lap and threw it on her plate with a mild annoyance, “Damn it. Can you answer my question?”

I let the sound of the rain play its song for a few moments before I said, “To answer your question fairly, I have no idea how I did that. Its like it just happened out of necessity.”

She swirled the wine in her glass around like she knew how to decant it, smelled it then placed the glass back on the table without taking a sip. She then promiscuously looked up at me, her eyes glistened under the illumination of the candlelight as she spoke, “Do you think that you’d be able to control it? Do you think that you’d be able to do that whenever you wanted?”

I chugged the rest of my wine, reached for the bottle and heavily poured another glass, “This is good wine, don’t you think?”

The muscles in her neck tensed like she was getting frustrated with my dodging of her direct questions, so I decided to be more attentive with my response, “I’m not sure, maybe? If I could that’d mean I’d have some sort of fictional superpower, like some sort of character that Stan Lee would create.”

She placed her elbows on the table and started to massage her temples like she was cognitively fatigued, “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously. Let me explain; you were able to take your soul and create a visual simulation that was able to rip the spine out of an apparent monster. You saved my life and all you can do is sit there and eat like you’re some sort of barbarian that has no manners? Like you were raised in the goddamn jungle?”

I took my notecard out of my coat pocket and added another tally mark to it, “Shorty, a stud is a stud, you was already knowing that from the very beginning. I don’t know what to tell you.” I then forced a burp as loud as I could.

She stood up, placed her hands on the table and leaned over so I could see her cleavage in the tight low-cut dress that she was wearing as she angrily spoke, “Can you be serious for once? We’ve got alien-like bones sitting on the living room table and all you can do is sit there and act like a fucking moron?”

I’m not sure why, but I felt like I had to continue to irk her so I condescendingly said, “Shorty, we’re not even sure if that was an alien or not. It looked more like some sort of science fictional demon. “

 She slammed her hands on the table with enough force that made her tits jiggle a bit. I’ve always found her to be sexy when she pretends to be somewhat flustered. I then heard her say, “Alien… demon, it doesn’t matter what it was! One minute you’re over there, next minute there’s two of you, then you disappear and reappear, what the hell is going on?”

I reached over to my notecard and added yet another tally mark. She abruptly stood completely upright, pointed her finger at me while she tried not to laugh and yelled, “If I see you put one more tally mark on that goddamn notecard of yours – you’re going to be in big trouble!”

I quickly responded, “Shorty, why is you decibel raising?”

She let out a loud angst of a sigh, sloppily drank the rest of her wine, threw the glass on the ground and forced herself into obvious tears, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” As she turned away from me and folded her arms like she was upset.

She has never been good at faking herself into crying so I walked over, caressed her hips and whispered into her ear, “Look woman, I’m just trying to make the best of a horrid circumstance. Close your eyes for me.”

She reluctantly closed her eyes and I gave her a romantic smooch on her lips. Moments later she opened her eyes and we were lying in the bedroom bed.

She smiled at me and said, “So you can control it.”