Pizza For Two: A Tale Of Food And Love And Food
I walked with my walkers into this store like I would any ole storey store: forwards, frontal, fully nude, with upper lip searching the corners of the room for stray wallabii to ingest.
Like a spray of playing cards against a gyrating wall, I blessed the space with my humble presence.
But what’s this? What’s this that exists for here and now in this chirpy, casually dressed food dispatch environ?
MMMMMMMM - a yummy girrrrrl!
She talked things at me with smiles and filleted pistachio nuts, all the while retaining her dazling bin-liner blue eyes of sparklement in her dutifully appointed eye-socketeers.
I tracked her eye-ball movements with my equally roundish eye blingers, blinking every now and then, every then and now.
"I’ll eat the pizza!" I spluttered out as word-gooses; it was a pizza shop.
So far, so great .
"I’ll have blonde curls and blue eyes on my gourmet pizza, thank-you very much!" This is something I did not say.
Instead, I pulled a painfully blunt fragment of possum bone from my invisible pant pocket, and violently carved my order into her forearm, to affirm my verbal request.
"That tickles! He he!" she said, whilst saying "That tickles", followed by a donkey-like "Hee hee" he-hawing.
I think I need to bone up on my bone carving skillish, as she misread my pizzerie hors d’oeuvre (as later, a gourmet pizza with baby spinach on top snatched its way into my mulletesque goolet gulletane).
In any case… Top score! Many points. Donkey delights. The food was good. BUT. You know what was better? The post-foodal-conversation. OHHHEMMPEEEE!
Flicking her flick-licious hair this way and that (like a ball-swallowing clown set to maximum speed) that juicy pixie pearl in my heart’s leather bagette saddled her serene self up and over to my platitudes of greasy remains, to take it back to the Round and White herd of fancy flats.
BLOODY HELL! More talk!
I joked (as I DOOO) about not ordering a desert as I remembered that I’d already eaten three ice-creams earlier that day, as well as a healthy slice of unhealthy cheese-cake.
THESE CLAIMS SOUNDED UNTRUE. MADE UP. DRESSED DOWN. But they are true! I ate all of those things, damn it!
She danced around my fauxish apology with understanding and professional BEAUTIFUL EYES AND SMILES OF FUN AND KINDNESS and as I walked backwards out of our love cove, bowing with the utmost polished poise of many kings and statesmen a top of divine lemon icing, I explained how we were meant to be together for the rest of our natural lives and maybe into the technological singularity where we would unceremoniously meld into one amorphous hive-mind.
She sped over to me at the speed of sweetness whilst at the same time, throwing my plate and cutlery into the kitchen worm hole to her right - like a bolt of lightning – all without losing my engazement.
Lady-of-mine lifted my lowered head with one certain index finger to my chin, guiding my face level to her own. A glorious halo of white and gold light framed her beauty. Her eyes spoke in concert with her lips:
"Never again shall we not know this and now and us."
A chill flew up my spine and burst out of the crown of my head with dizzy sparks; fear dropped from my being and disappeared into the floor.
That’s it. It was done.
Our fairytale had begun, and I was utterly melted – from the inside, out.