Fleur’s Wicked Grin Told Me She Hoped I Didn’t Eat the Cicada
uncomfortably on all fours yet unheeding his discomfort- like an illusion of the vision
- “Magnificent!” I replied, with a good imitation of enthusiasm
- exhaustively trained monozygotic twins
- Like his lips were made of chocolate
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Fleur’s wicked grin told me that she hoped I didn’t eat the cicada, that she relished picturing me as a vanquished foe uncomfortably on all fours yet unheeding his discomfort in his fervor to please her. I opened my mouth, resolved to get this ordeal over with in the least of unpleasant ways. My determination disappointed her. Ordinarily I don’t fantasize about harming other people, but the vexation creasing Fleur’s brow was like an illusion of the vision of how she’d react if I turned the tables. Stoic to the last, my wife.
I chewed, willing away any and all awareness of the taste, texture, and especially the sound within my own mouth.
“How is it?” my father-in-law asked.
“Magnificent!” I replied, with a good imitation of enthusiasm.
Fleur surprised me by providing a goblet of red wine to wash things down. I reminded myself that she wasn’t a monster. She only wanted to be a good daughter.
“Next question,” her father said. “What is the proper manner to perform our tribal anthem?” He and Fleur exchanged nasty smiles.
I smiled back. “On a barge, held in place against the current by a team of thirty-one albino goats, the melody produced by a single bagpipe played by exhaustively trained monozygotic twins.”
The warlord had been certain I couldn’t know this. He frowned deeply. Like his lips were made of chocolate and my satisfied grin was a blowtorch.
bonus points for using them in order