This smells delightful.
Even better than the fried fish.
Thathasto be the champagne doing my thinking for me though. Nothing could possibly be as good as her fried fish, though her burgers come close.
I cross my eyes, and the three corn dogs become two.
“What kind of secret do you want?” Bea asks.
Tell me what you look like naked, my overactive cock and the bubbly team up on me to demand.
We dislike her, I remind them.
That makes her perfect for naked time, they remind me back.
“Simon?” Bea says.
I jerk my head back up to look at her, as I was apparently glaring at my crotch, and my head nearly floats off my neck.
Good grief, I’m plastered. “Yes?”
“Your lips are moving, but you’re not actually saying anything out loud.”
I giggle.
Giggle.
Whoops.
“Oh my god,eat the corn dog.”
I lift it as though I am a medieval knight and it is my sword. “But first, a secret!”
She laughs. “Okay. A secret. Here you go. Our last name used to beBeste. With aneon the end after thet. But no one knew if they were supposed to sayBestie—which was technically right—orBest—which was wrong—so my grandfather dropped the e when he married my grandmother.”
Thatisquite the secret. I shall have to write it down later. If I remember. “Truly?”
She nods, which my brain processes in slow motion. “I think he made the right choice. I’m very particular about who I’m besties with, but I enjoy beingthe best.”
“Is there anything about your life that’s not fascinating?”
“No. I’m even amusing when I scrub toilets. Have to make it fun or I won’t do it, and that’s not an option when you live with three boys. Well,lived. It’s just habit now. And that’s two secrets. Noweat.”
I obediently bite into the corn dog, pause to moan in utter delight, and lose my train of thought.
Do my thoughts have trains?
I think not this evening.
I’m fairly lucky my thoughts exist at all, given how light my head feels.
Being drunk is glorious. Why don’t I do this more often?
“Is that a good moan or a tortured moan?” Bea asks.
“I dislike you, so both.”
The blasted woman has the audacity to laugh at me. “You don’t like me?”
