The Blue Panda Swayed
mud of an Alabama bayou- protective layers of bubble wrap
- undergarments, sneakers
- on the right thumb
- discard his signature footwear
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The blue panda swayed from side to side, crooning “Hush Little Baby” in a southern accent thicker than the mud of an Alabama bayou. My twins, strapped to his chest, cooed and burbled. I had no idea my brother Jim had such a way with infants.
While Harry gathered up the cheese and shoved it into his toad-like mouth with a great deal of lip-smacking, Fleur snapped her fingers for the waiter. When he arrived at the table she said, “You will procure several protective layers of bubble wrap and use it to fashion carrying harnesses for these four babies.” She turned to me. “It was very foresighted of you to conceive these children. They will make splendid additions to my royal brood. Of course they are outside the line of succession, and must remain unnamed until after our twins get their names several months or years from now.”
“Of course,” I said. Having the quads raised in the Contrarian court meant they would be well-protected, which was an enormous relief to me.
Fleur finished feeding the second set of babies and handed them to a nearby busboy. She buttoned up her top and turned back to me. “Your morning suit is a disgrace.”
“It looks exactly like the one my husband wore at my wedding!” Isolde simpered, “Only dirtier and much, much damper.” Harry nearly choked on his cheese.
I thought of Isolde on her wedding night, when I’d acted as proxy husband. She’d danced for me wearing only undergarments, sneakers, and a ring on the right thumb, her left thumb as nude as the rest of her soon became.
Fleur snapped again and another waiter scurried over. “Get my husband something dry to wear,” she said. “And discard his signature footwear into the incinerator.” Once more she turned her attention to me. “Now what’s this you were bellowing about your ejaculate?”
bonus points for using them in order