Isolde Shifted The Infants On Her Hips
poetic fantasies about snowbound mountains- hostile, feathered invaders
- “Would you like some fresh towels?”
- but the same can not be said of murderers
- stylish gold shoes covering his feet
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Isolde shifted the infants on her hips, and I knew they were getting heavy. Any second she was going to just dump them in the tub with the rest of us.
Fleur used her hands to make mounds of soap suds. She shoved them my way, and soon I could barely see out from my foamy cocoon. She sing-songed, “The summit wears a crown of ice, its weather isn’t very nice, but we can sip hot wine with spice, and if you behave I’ll kiss you twice. Before the vultures come.”
With my stoned wife spouting poetic fantasies about snowbound mountains and hostile, feathered invaders, and my sister-in-law looming over us with a pair of children of uncertain provenance, and Tessa still hiding under the bubbles, I couldn’t clear my mind to determine a next move. Isolde impatiently shifted the babies again. “Would you like some fresh towels?” she asked. “Seems like there’s only one.” And with that, she plunked one child each — diapers and all — into my and Fleur’s laps, and left the bathroom.
“They are cute little things,” I said, lifting the baby up.
“Yes,” Fleur said distantly. “These tiny people are rather cute, but the same can not be said of murderers. Except, they must have been babies once too…”
I wasn’t really paying much attention to Fleur’s ramblings by then, because I’d discovered that the baby I held had stylish gold shoes covering his feet.
bonus points for using them in order