Cleopatra Didn’t Answer My Question
I’m sorry, I have a cold- obviously an impostor
- until I broke his collarbone
- — England’s far-reaching navy
- I was barely nine weeks pregnant
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Cleopatra didn’t answer my question, but instead tried to entice me into another skating trip on the frog pond.
“Ee-yow!” I yelped.
“I’m sorry, I have a cold hand because it wasn’t under the blankets. Here, is this one better?”
It was, so I never did find out where the hovercraft was taking us until we docked. In fact, not even then.
The man in the captain’s uniform seeing us off as we disembarked was obviously an impostor. His bushy white mustache was glued on, and the medals were pinned to the wrong side of his jacket. Cleopatra interposed herself as we passed him, preventing me from unmasking him and pummeling him until I broke his collarbone or he confessed and told us who put him up to it, whichever came first. (More likely both.)
“He’s a spy from the navy — England’s far-reaching navy — and he doesn’t know who I am,” Cleopatra whispered. “You, maybe. I couldn’t tell if he recognized you or not.”
“Where are we?”
“Someplace I never thought I’d return to,” she sighed. “Last time I was here, I was barely nine weeks pregnant. Pregnant with foolish dreams and naive idealism, but still in the first trimester.
bonus points for using them in order