Tell me some scientist hasn’t researched this!
We’re laying side by side as tree lights dance across the ceiling. This is the first time we’ve seriously necked on the floor, instead of side by side. It’s much more fun, not re-adjusting constantly. I store this info for later; an idea is germinating.
“You got anything to eat in the kitchen?”
[Did you seriously think I wasn’t going to play this??]
“Sure.” We start poking in cabinets, start the teapot boiling. I get cups, she gets sugar and teabags. “oooooooo!”
“What?”
“You have Jiffy Pop Popcorn!!”
[All together now: ‘Jiffy Pop, Jiffy Pop! The magic treat! As much fun to make as it is to eat!’]
“I’ve never cooked it.”
She gives me a look of incomprehension. “Oh, c’mon. A child of 10 could do it.”
“It’s not that. My father insists on doing it himself. Mom did it once and some kernels burned. The stink was fucking awful.”
“Oh Christ, yes. You gotta open windows to keep from suffocating.” [Note: many people in corporate America seem to have forgotten the hell spawn breath of burnt popcorn.] She busies herself with getting our magic treat started.
Waiting……waiting……for the silver bag to rise. Bored, we start making out. The machine gun popping stirs us and in no time, we’re back in the living room with our prize and hot tea. This in turn became to a game of tossing popcorn into each others’ mouths. Then feeding each other, and kissing fingers.
She holds my hand to her mouth, kissing each finger in turn. Gives me saucer eyes, my soul melts in capitulation. “Show me your bedroom.”
Oh God, no. I’ll take a brick suppository…Anything but my room.