Two Shades of Vague
The elevator doors open and I walk out. Shimper has resumed his cool and controlled self, except he has some lipstick of mine smeared on his face. Somehow this makes him look even more authoritative.
“Miss Gasm,” Mr. Vague says, his breath hitching as he says it.
“Mr. Vague,” I say, his eyes widening.
For the first time in my life I realize how much I love mentioning breath hitching and eyes widening. At the realization of this I blush. Mr. Vague’s eyes widen again at my blushing.
“What are you thinking, Miss Gasm?” he asks sternly.
“I was trying to think where I parked my car,” I reply. Then I realize I have no idea where I parked my car. That’s ironic.
I manage to find my way to my car and I drive home. This is another opportunity for me to think through things. Here’s a breakdown of my thoughts.
2.5% – This is finals week, and I better work toward that
2.5% – Various friends and family and what they’re up to
5% – More introduction to myself as a character (honestly, stuff you wouldn’t want to hear about)
45% – Hitching breath
45% – Eyes widening
I get home, and Susanna is waiting for me. Oh no!, she’s going to want to know everything about the interview!
“How’d the interview go!?,” Susanna says.
“Oh, it was fine,” I say, unsure where to start, and knowing I don’t want to mention that … kiss. Oh, that kiss. My inner goddess is making a gun with one hand and pointing at me and making “pew pew pew” noises.
“Fine? What happened? Did he take your breath away with his good looks?” I look at Susanna, shocked, how did she know! Susanna responds as though she’s read my mind, “I saw lots of pictures of him when I was looking up information about him for the interview.”
Oh of course. The internet. Although it is 2011, and I am a senior in college, I am still very unfamiliar with this thing. I thought my grandmother’s stance on the internet was the approach to take – so I have avoided having an email, and I am maintaining my staunch advocacy of obliviousness towards all things net. Lawlz, it’s so silly that I’m like this. you might think, but it’s who I am.
“He answered all your questions, and I have them on the tape recorder I left on the counter in the kitchen … I need to shower for work!” I run off before she has a chance to answer. I know she’ll be curious about the interview, and that tape will keep her occupied for a while. Even better, it’ll give me a chance to process that kiss. Oh, that kiss. My inner goddess does the cabbage patch.
I work at a place in town that’s a mom and pop shop. This reinforces my small town America good girl sweetness. I am close to the owners and the brother of the owner, who wants to bone me. No biggie. Just sayin.’ I find myself unattractive, but some good looking dudes want to bone me – so that means I’m just bashful and unaware of my hotness. Aw, shucks. I think this stuff, but in a much more verbose way.
I get to work and it gives me time to think. This is both a blessing and a curse. Part of me wants to shut off my brain and get rid of all the thoughts of Shimper. Part of me wants to curl up inside my brain and only spend time with my memories of him. Or wait, no I don’t want that. Oh wait, yeah I do. I don’t know. I think I’m in love! No wait, it’s hunger.
I have a snack. The snack is chocolate, it’s sweet, like Shimper’s kiss. Oh, what a kiss! My inner goddess does the running man. She’s really good at it. I wish you guys could see it. Oh dang!, and my inner goddess just did the splits!
I’m lost in thought, looking down, when my boss yells, “Olivia!, you have a customer in front of you!” I look up and – oh my! – it’s HIM! Shimper Vague is here, in this store, hot as the sun, wait, hotter than the sun!, and I’m melting in his presence …
“Miss Gasm,” Shimper says. The way he says my name sends shivers down to my hoo-ha. It’s neat-o mosquito. Suddenly I realize, oh, the effect he has on me is sexual! I get it now! At twenty-two years of age, memories of health class come flooding back to me. More importantly, the most poignant line of Kindergarten Cop comes back to me, “Boys have penises, and girls have vaginas.”
Shimper interrupts my revelry with a statement, “Oh, Miss Gasm, I wish I could know what you’re thinking.”
“Oh, just thinking about birds … and bees,” I realize I’m blushing, and my statement has just made me turn the color of the Communist Manifesto. Get it? Cause it’s written by a bunch of red commie bastards! I’m so clever. For once, Shimper seems at a loss for words. I take this opportunity to seize the upper hand, and coolly say, “what can I help you with, Mr. Vague?”
“Some supplies,” he’s recovered his cool so quickly!, “I need some rope, and a board.”
“Ok, the rope is on aisle four … do you need manilla rope? Or nylon? Or polypro?” Mr. Vague’s eyes simmer with heat, with each type of rope I list his eyes go to a new level of smoldering. If I had to compare it to something, I wouldn’t, because I’m bad at that.
“Lead the way …,” Shimper says huskily, quietly, hotly. I feel like Shimper, because I wish I could know what he was thinking! As though he’s reading my mind, he suddenly stops, grabs my hand (and it’s electric! boogie-woogie-woogie!), and begins to speak, “Miss Gasm … I find your knowledge of ropes very … alluring. I have apparently never encountered anyone with knowledge of ropes even though I run in kinky rope-loving circles, and … I have a proposition for you … Have dinner with me tonight at a fancy hotel?”
“I guess you’ve … roped me into dinner,” I say, as I hand Shimper some rope.
“Oh, Gasm.” He says, and something down there is all whoop-whoop!, time to go to party-town!