-Small Quick Steps-
Such a cad, lemme explain.
Got a call from the artist Sunday morning. She wanted to cancel our get-together on grounds of being sick. The nerve! Specifically, the one in her forehead tapping out messages of pain to the rest of her.
Not a problem, necessarily, if the scientist was nearby. I felt a bit cheeky doing so, but I invited her to the same event to which I'd intended to take the other woman. And at first, things were great. We talked, listened to live music, examined fine art, and stretched out on the riverbank like twenty-something crocodiles.
A few times, my companion darted away with little warning, to return a few minutes later after the passing clown or mime had moved away. Fear of clowns is fairly common, actually.
The last time it happened, the mime was nearly on top of us when the scientist bolted. I greeted the character, who looked questioningly after my friend, and then at me.
"I think you scared her away." I stated the obvious. "She's afraid of clowns." The mime mock-pouted and left to play with a group of mountain children as loud as she was not.
The scientist was back at my elbow in a flash. "What did you say?"
And then, "You told her that!?" She was so angry she put her headphones on and spoke seldom, but loud, until the fairgrounds closed a few minutes later. I could barely keep up with her on the way home. When we came to the point of separation, I watched her small, quick steps hammer out a longer-than-usual route home, so chosen because it served to separate her from me even faster.
Perhaps that was the time for me to shout back.
"It's not as if she's going to tell anyone!
She's a mime."
Got a call from the artist Sunday morning. She wanted to cancel our get-together on grounds of being sick. The nerve! Specifically, the one in her forehead tapping out messages of pain to the rest of her.
Not a problem, necessarily, if the scientist was nearby. I felt a bit cheeky doing so, but I invited her to the same event to which I'd intended to take the other woman. And at first, things were great. We talked, listened to live music, examined fine art, and stretched out on the riverbank like twenty-something crocodiles.
A few times, my companion darted away with little warning, to return a few minutes later after the passing clown or mime had moved away. Fear of clowns is fairly common, actually.
The last time it happened, the mime was nearly on top of us when the scientist bolted. I greeted the character, who looked questioningly after my friend, and then at me.
"I think you scared her away." I stated the obvious. "She's afraid of clowns." The mime mock-pouted and left to play with a group of mountain children as loud as she was not.
The scientist was back at my elbow in a flash. "What did you say?"
And then, "You told her that!?" She was so angry she put her headphones on and spoke seldom, but loud, until the fairgrounds closed a few minutes later. I could barely keep up with her on the way home. When we came to the point of separation, I watched her small, quick steps hammer out a longer-than-usual route home, so chosen because it served to separate her from me even faster.
Perhaps that was the time for me to shout back.
"It's not as if she's going to tell anyone!
She's a mime."
posted by Benedict | 3:01 PM
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