"I wanted three lumps..." I said, mildly agitated but not enough to sound convincing.
"I'm appropriately apologetic," he said, and scooped in four teaspoons of sugar before I realised what was happening.
"Hey!" I looked down into my cup, "I said three."
"Terribly aggrieved," he turned, put down the sugar bowl and adjusted his bright blue turban. Then walked off.
"THOSE GENIE PANTS ARE FOR GIRLS!" I yelled. When I got no response, I shouted: "AND THEY MAKE YOUR BUM LOOK BIG!" then I looked back at my coffee, which had now accumulated six sugars and a smug expression.
I contemplated drinking it. But then again, I contemplate a lot of things when I'm staring into mugs of hot liquid.
"Excuse me; is this the take-off terminal?"
I started, because hearing voices in one's own head is never a good sign, and my eyes fell on the mug sitting innocently upon the table, apparently ready to have a chat. Well, I felt honoured.
"Have you always sounded like a Rhinoceros with two teeth missing?" I asked, basking in my honour. I might have been smirking a little, narrowing my eyes and moving my head in that 'oh, you know how it is' gesture, and perhaps even rehearsing what I would say when complimented on my years of hard effort.
"Appalling English, if I do say so."
My smirk faded and I gave the mug a look of frost and daggers, "I wish you wouldn't. I have delicate ears. See these ear-cosies? They're not just for decoration."
"They make you look like you're growing ferns out of your head!"
"I made them myself!"
The mug laughed shrilly, "Do make me some! I'll show all my friends and we'll have a grand giggle!"
I resolved on that very spot, sitting on my old three-legged stool, that I would never buy another mug again. But I wanted mugs. I wanted ten, or twenty; I wanted rows and rows, shelves and cupboards filled with different colours, sizes and horrendous patterns.
This was absolution.
"I must go shopping," I said abruptly (and very superfluously) and stood up, knocking my stool backwards without a care in the world. The time for stools was over.
"Aiighhhhh!"
I looked down to see a little mouse wearing a waistcoat and black high-tops sprawled out on the ground as if it had just attempted to bowl with an oversized ball.
"Do pardon my excessive energy," I said primly, "I have just been insulted by my coffee with too many sugars."
The mouse grunted and scrambled to a stand.
"It has six," I said to make my angst more understandable.
"Do sweet things often insult you?"
I took some time to think about this. "I think on occasion, but I'd have to go back inside a time-machine to make sure, and my beloved one doesn't have the ability to assemble machines that can travel, or even heat up spaghetti, so I'm afraid my answer is quite a lie."
The mouse wrinkled its little nose and said: "Do you know where I can find the nearest take-off terminal?"
"This isn't an airport," I said with an air of exasperation. Was this mouse one of the blind ones that lost its tail in a tragic knifing escapade?
"I'm taking my mouse friend hot-air-ballooning," and he proceeded to whip out two pairs of goggles and a handful of what looked like tiny water balloons from his back pockets. "Filled with jelly," he said as if this was entirely normal mouse behaviour.
"Um..." I was unsure how to continue.
The mouse checked his watch so I said, "I will swap you a jelly balloon for a mug of conversational coffee that compliments you every time you take a sip," and I crossed my fingers behind my back.
"Coffee and compliments?" The mouse enquired.
"Rather a thing now," I replied nonchalantly.
"Well," he checked his watch again, making me realise that the only reason I had taken him to be a male was because he had on a waistcoat, and then I wondered why I didn't associate waistcoats with females.
"I think I'll buy a red one," I said out loud and the mouse looked up and declared: "I will definitely."
"Right on."
I took hold of my aggressive mug and watched the mouse search in his handful of balloons, and I went through all my fond memories of our time together. What a time.
He held up a green one, "It's got a little knot, just here, that I find offensive."
"More offensive than an insolent mug?"
"Possibly."
So it was settled. We switched items and called it a day. I thanked him for my breakfast. He wondered if hot-air-balloons ran on good time. I told him about the time I developed a blister on my foot and had to hop on one leg all the way up to the service station to buy a carton of strawberry milk that I found out I was allergic to.
He nodded- probably because his head wasn't screwed on properly- and I felt unable to offer assistance as I had no idea how to screw a mouse head on properly.
"If you're going to throw jelly bombs while flying, please try and hit the guy walking around with a blue turban. He causes me physical angst." And he did because my stomach had just started to rumble.
The mouse stared at me in a serious manner: "It will be my absolute honour."
I gave a low nod, turned and took a bite of my breakfasty bomb goodness.
~Some days, things just work out.
^_6
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