I Gazed at the Moose
long puffy sleeves- bees cannot live when their stings are broken
- dream about mousetraps and poison darts
- result of our extra-marital affair
- “I DESERVE this!”
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I gazed at the moose as snowy air stung the skin of my bare arms, jutting as they were from my duvet-toga. “What I wouldn’t give for some long, puffy sleeves,” I muttered.
“And some shoes?” Dr Ferguson asked, handing me a pair of slippers from the hotel’s spa.
I grunted my thanks and put them on. “Why the hell did you enter a moose raffle?” I asked.
“Everyone knows bees cannot live when their stings are broken.” She smiled the smile of a woman who has a recurring dream about mousetraps and poison darts, and, what’s more, enjoys it. Her statement would sound to many people like a coded message, but to me it sounded like a metaphor. But for what? I studied her from the corner of my eye as I stroked the moose’s velvety snout. It seemed quite docile.
“You’re trying to figure me out,” she said. “But don’t worry. The result of our extra-marital affair will be complete understanding. And maybe a little rug burn.”
“We’re not having an affair.”
“You won’t be able to say that tomorrow,” she said. “At least not honestly.”
“Lady, I don’t have time for this. I need to find my way off this island.” I held the reins out for her to take. “Your moose is ready.”
She ignored the reins. “Who do you think you are, turning me down? I worked hard to get to this desolate place to save you. I went against all of my training, and a direct order from your mother!” She stamped her foot in the snow. “I DESERVE this!”
bonus points for using them in order