Thursday, September 16, 2010

"The Pansies"

by anonymous

It was a hot, sticky day. David and Montgomery lounged on the tan couch. Every three minutes, David shifted ."If I ever get out of here, I will never get a leather couch," David thought.

Montgomery looked more comfortable, presumably because he was thinking about his own couch, at home, which was not made from a cow and always covered by a clean cotton sheet.

Both boys felt suctioned into the cushions. They faced a choice: shift their weight and learn that they had cemented to the sofa, or remain where they were forever, never to know. Meanwhile, the contestants on TV sizzled, sliced and diced their way to personal salvation in “Kitchen Stadium”. There was a new mystery ingredient, one that had thrown the Japanese and Indian chef considerably: leeks. Too easy, thought Montgomery.

Ugh. "Iron Chef is not conducive to thought," thought David. Conducive? Conductive? Whatever. As the gracious host, David had allowed Monty to choose the program, something he was currently in deep regret about. After flipping at considerable length, Monty had settled on the food channel. So what if it was a Monday in august? There had to be something better on, like Nickelodeon. Or Wii. David stretched his hand towards the remote, customs be damned.

Down in the much cooler basement, David’s sister Rose was having a similar bout with temptation. The basement walls were stark navy, and there was a furry maroon carpet on the floor. Rose, a girl of unpleasant skinniness with short ink-black hair, was sitting watching Pretty in Pink.

There was a bare light on in the hall, where unfinished pine steps led up into the room of the leather couch. That was where David sat stiffly and Montgomery lounged sexily. Or so it seemed to Rose. She didn’t know what idiot inside her had prompted her to tie her hair back (it was really too short, half had come out, while the other half jutted out of her head like a blunt spike), or made her think seriously of shaving her legs for the second time that week. They were stubbly where her denim shorts ended. She looked at the sea glass vase on the low table. There was a rose in it. Surely one petal wouldn’t hurt. And it would taste so good. It was dislodged, chewed and swallowed, in rapid succession. Rose was on her third petal, chomping away, when she heard the doorknob.

“Hey,” said Monty. “Can we please go downstairs? it’s so hot.”

“Umm…” David had wanted to go down to the basement for a while, but back in Kitchen Stadium they were getting into judging (which was really more like tasting) and he just didn’t want Monty staring at Rose. Ick. David had his father’s golden wavy hair and his mother’s separated eyebrows, but no guy, much less Monty, ever looked at him. What a colossal joke.

The boys reached the basement and entered the room just in time to see the couple on screen kiss.

"Eww, it’s The Breakfast Club all over again," thought David.

"What makes her think she can be a ginger?" Montgomery asked. He mouthed the word ginger as he looked at the screen. Then he looked at David’s cute sister. And what makes her think she can have dark hair with those eyebrows?

In her mind, Rose was giggling cheekily. I think he’s into me! Her cognitive squeals and slight flush drew David’s attention to Montgomery, who was watching Roses ridiculous ponytail like he wanted to grab it.

"Here we go," he thought.

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