Saturday, May 30, 2009


“Solomon, come over here dear friend,” he said. “I want you to see this.”

With cautious steps Solomon made sure to walk along the lines so as not to disturb the boards that creaked with even the slightest pressure. When he was younger he had nightmares of his bedroom floorboards opening up and swallowing him whole. His imagination had let him be taken in by the bubbling, glaucous goop that existed beneath his floorboards and within his head. It was toxic to him – all of it.

“Dear friend, I fear that the request you have given me cannot be fulfilled,” Solomon said. “I forgot to eat lunch just this past hour.”

“Mother always told me you were a picky eater, Solomon. You should work on that I tell you. Start with the blinis if any are left over – Mumsie said they were divine.”

Solomon gradually nodded his head but his eyes remained transfixed on tangent with the voice in the chair. He turned around, walked in a hurried manner and forgot completely about the floorboards. By the time he had reached the salver on the dining room table, he realized that his dear friend had played quite the trick on him.

“Mumsie didn’t bring us blinis!” he mewled. “All that is left is that dreadful champagne and those silly little pearls of onyx salinity!”

“Oh my, little Solomon,” said the voice sitting in the chair. “You foolish little twit – I must’ve eaten the last bunch. Apologies I do say, apologies.”

1 comment:

JAY said...

Thurston Howell, III