Personal Log. Commodore's Liaison, Jean Sprat. 05.08.3001Part 2
"I would like a French Vanilla Cappuccino s'il vous plait."
"For here or to go?" asked the Pendore-bat cafe server in a very cordial tone, but unfortunately with a voice that sounded like gravel being shook up in a tin can. Pendore-bats resemble giant, hairy bats with arms, legs, and leathery wings, but are known as one of the most courteous and gentle creatures in the Universe.
Since the red-headed man – the very man who had swapped my genitalia - had entered the cafe, I went from calmly sipping vermouth mocha to boiling over with unmitigated rage. I didn't care if he was the greatest cello player that ever lived. I didn't care if he brought joy through the sound of music to millions – billions of people throughout the universe. Today, I was going to face my transgressor. Today, I was going to kill Yo-Yo Ma.
"To go," said Yo-Yo, in response to the Pendore-bat.
I slid from my chair, fork in hand and strode across the cafe. In seconds, I was standing behind Yo-Yo with the fork level with his kidney, little bits of crumb cake falling off the prongs. Standing there, noticing the little bald spot on top of his head, I reveled in the fact that I towered a head taller than the man.
"Late for a concert?" I asked in a voice that could make babies cry.
"As a matter of fact – " Yo-Yo Ma turned around and paused when he saw me. His brow knitted. "Pardonez-moi - do I know you from some where?"
"I should think so," I said.
He stared at me for a long time. The cappuccino machine went "woosh-woosh" behind him and I got the impression that the gears in his brain worked in the same, slow, lulling rhythm. I imagined a woosh-woosh as each thought of his came to light.
Then a look washed over his face that could only be described as the expression a person makes when they have just been hit over the head by a large mackerel.
"You," he said in disbelief.
I stood tall, flexed the testosterone engorged muscles I had developed ever since my vagina was turned into a penis, and glared darkly at the man.
"I mean – uh – I don't know you," he said. "Sorry, I mistook you for someone totally different. In fact you look nothing like him. He's fat and – uh – bald and his face is –uh- covered in – uh – warts."
"Here is your lovely French Vanilla Cappuccino, sir," grated the Pendore-bat.
Yo-Yo Ma turned slowly, watching me out of the corner of his eye. "Thank you," he said. He took a sip, the cup shaking in his hand. He turned to me with a layer of froth coating his upper lip and said, "It's good."
I smacked the cup with the back of my hand. It flew from his grasp, arced through the air and landed and stuck upside down on the Pendore-bat's head right between his giant bat ears. Yo-Yo Ma and I sort of forgot our own spat in unison and watched as the Vanilla coffee oozed over the Pendore-bat's fury head.
"I'm so sorry," he said as it trickled off his black nose. "It appears there is a hair in your Cappaccino. Let me make you another one."
Yo-Yo Ma and I looked at each other in one of those moments of circumstantial stupidity, both our mouths agape. He reacted first, taking the opportunity to take two quick steps around me and run out the door. For a thousand year old French-Chinese cellist, he was quite spry....
TO BE CONTINUED
"For here or to go?" asked the Pendore-bat cafe server in a very cordial tone, but unfortunately with a voice that sounded like gravel being shook up in a tin can. Pendore-bats resemble giant, hairy bats with arms, legs, and leathery wings, but are known as one of the most courteous and gentle creatures in the Universe.
Since the red-headed man – the very man who had swapped my genitalia - had entered the cafe, I went from calmly sipping vermouth mocha to boiling over with unmitigated rage. I didn't care if he was the greatest cello player that ever lived. I didn't care if he brought joy through the sound of music to millions – billions of people throughout the universe. Today, I was going to face my transgressor. Today, I was going to kill Yo-Yo Ma.
"To go," said Yo-Yo, in response to the Pendore-bat.
I slid from my chair, fork in hand and strode across the cafe. In seconds, I was standing behind Yo-Yo with the fork level with his kidney, little bits of crumb cake falling off the prongs. Standing there, noticing the little bald spot on top of his head, I reveled in the fact that I towered a head taller than the man.
"Late for a concert?" I asked in a voice that could make babies cry.
"As a matter of fact – " Yo-Yo Ma turned around and paused when he saw me. His brow knitted. "Pardonez-moi - do I know you from some where?"
"I should think so," I said.
He stared at me for a long time. The cappuccino machine went "woosh-woosh" behind him and I got the impression that the gears in his brain worked in the same, slow, lulling rhythm. I imagined a woosh-woosh as each thought of his came to light.
Then a look washed over his face that could only be described as the expression a person makes when they have just been hit over the head by a large mackerel.
"You," he said in disbelief.
I stood tall, flexed the testosterone engorged muscles I had developed ever since my vagina was turned into a penis, and glared darkly at the man.
"I mean – uh – I don't know you," he said. "Sorry, I mistook you for someone totally different. In fact you look nothing like him. He's fat and – uh – bald and his face is –uh- covered in – uh – warts."
"Here is your lovely French Vanilla Cappuccino, sir," grated the Pendore-bat.
Yo-Yo Ma turned slowly, watching me out of the corner of his eye. "Thank you," he said. He took a sip, the cup shaking in his hand. He turned to me with a layer of froth coating his upper lip and said, "It's good."
I smacked the cup with the back of my hand. It flew from his grasp, arced through the air and landed and stuck upside down on the Pendore-bat's head right between his giant bat ears. Yo-Yo Ma and I sort of forgot our own spat in unison and watched as the Vanilla coffee oozed over the Pendore-bat's fury head.
"I'm so sorry," he said as it trickled off his black nose. "It appears there is a hair in your Cappaccino. Let me make you another one."
Yo-Yo Ma and I looked at each other in one of those moments of circumstantial stupidity, both our mouths agape. He reacted first, taking the opportunity to take two quick steps around me and run out the door. For a thousand year old French-Chinese cellist, he was quite spry....
TO BE CONTINUED
1 comment:
Glad to see you are taking a break. Now, I can get caught up!
Post a Comment