Continued from yesterday:
The sales clerk frowned at Sara’s bruises, Todd’s cast, and then Logan. Something compelled him to make up a story.
“Some fuckhead broke my hand an’ she beat him up, yo,” said Todd.
“You should see the other guy,” grinned Sara.
Logan glared at them.
“What? It’s not like they’d believe the truth,” Todd muttered. “Fuhgeddaboudit. ’T'cha havin’, sweets?"
"Oh, poot, I can never decide… Death By Chocolate? Mango Mayhem? Strawberry Cheesecake[1]?"
"Yo, try the Tijuana Tilt."
"I can’t, dear, it has alcohol."
Todd remembered the fumes of her Dragon’s breath. "On purpose?"
"By genetic accident. Allergic."
"Ow…"
"Anything of me touches alcohol… it jus’ swells raht up on me,” she joked, replete with a passable imitation of Jeff Foxworthy for the latter half of her words.
“Yo, that is *scary*,” he grinned. “Anybody you can’t do?"
"Scooby Doo,” she confessed. “I wind up sounding like Marge Simpson with a speech defect."
"Hey. Treefrog. Make up yer mind, willya?"
Todd stayed to the safer flavours out of respect for Sara. "Mint Surprise? Butterscotch Brickle? Aw geez…"
"Er…” said Sara. “Neither of us made up our minds, did we?"
"Not th’ last time I checked, sweets."
"So… why is Logan ordering?"
_Shit!_ Todd looked. "Don’t *look* that pissed off…” he pondered.
“True. But he was smiling when we were fighting, too."
He shuddered. "I remember."
Todd watched. The popular people of Bayville High that staffed the Service With A Smile department were piling on multiple scoops. Generous ones.
”…wow,“ sighed Sara. "We must’ve been adopted."
"Huh?” said Todd.
“Only Dad ever got me multi-scoop cones. Mom’s kinda… frugal."
"We was always poor,” Todd dismissed. “Ice cream was kinda… special celebration food."
She hugged him. "Should I make every day a party for you?"
He grinned. "Thought you were doin’ that already."
"Flattery may get you everything,” Sara laughed.
_She’s flirting!_ Todd mentally celebrated. _That was a genuine *flirt*!_ He wanted to yawp with joy, but he pulled her down so that their lips met.
Her lips had scales, too. Fine, delicate, almost imperceptible to the naked eye. He could feel them moving as he savoured her flavour and the experience was… fascinating.
“Ya got three seconds before I shove this down ya shirts."
_Damn!_
Sara was blushing, but grinning. She accepted her ice cream with a, "Do you have something against people in love?"
"You two are still kids. Grow up a bit before ya make any big mistakes, eh?” He handed Todd his and dug into a sunday in a little cardboard bucket.
“So. How old were *you*?” said Todd.
“That was different,” Logan growled.
“Isn’t it fascinating that all the adults say that?” said Sara.
“Tallwater…” Logan growled. “When I was your age, it was a coupla hundred years ago. Things *were* different, then."
"Life expectancy, for a start,” she started on the Strawberry Cheesecake. “At one time, it was rare to live past fifty. Hence marriage in the late teens."
Todd couldn’t help noticing he had a layer of Death By Chocolate, too. _Logan playing fair? I think my brain spasmed._
"That’s enough o’ that,” said Logan. “Just eat th’ stuff an’ no wisecracks."
Sara lapped up some dribbles, completely unaware of the effect this visual had on Todd.
_Nosebleed alert,_ thought Todd.
His back-brain, on the other hand, had better ideas. _Fuck the nosebleed, I’m diverting the blood flow…_
Shit. _Margret Thatcher naked on a cold day. Margret Thatcher naked on a cold day[2]…_ He just focussed on his ice cream, eating it before something or someone happened to it, trailing after Logan and Sara…
Sara, who had a very nice ass and an interesting wiggle as she walked…
It’s very difficult to walk, eat ice cream and concentrate on *not* getting a boner at the same time. Todd did his level best.
Mostly because he knew Logan would cut it off if he saw it.
Ohyeah. *That* worked…
+
Tallwater was sucking blended ice cream melt out of the bottom of her cone by the time they reached Bargain Basement Bernie’s Bulk Outlet.
"Awright. The hell’re we doin’ here?"
"I shop for some people. Home deliveries. It’s the best way for me to get some - well - me-money."
"You shop *here*?"
"It has hidden depths."
"That explains the engine parts,” he muttered.
“Hello, darling. Were we going too fast?"
"Naw. I just -ah- had some thinkin’…"
Logan sniffed. Heh. Teenaged male thinking. He remembered being that young. God, that was painful.
"Then roll up for the magical mystery tour.” Sara lead them into the smallish hall of tchotchkes, plastic things, and widgets with no discernable use… and past it into a cavernous array of shelves.
“What the hell is *this*?” yawped Treefrog.
“The shopping equivalent of Narnia,” said Tallwater. “Most people don’t go back this far, they think it’s the storeroom. But *this*,” she gestured at the tall shelves, “is the heart and soul of Bernard’s establishment. Everything your heart could desire. In bulk. Sold seperately or by the box, no fancy overheads."
"I could believe it,” said Logan.
[1] These are all actual flavours of ice cream down here in the Merry Ol’ Land of Aus. We’ve never heard of Mess'rs Ben and Jerry.
[2] Of course an Austin Powers reference.
~
He should have known he was in trouble when he noticed the trolleys had a step added to the space near the wheels. He should never have said he could keep up.
Tallwater rode the damn things like a scooter, steering by judicious touches of her feet to the ground.
And if *he* wasn’t in trouble, Treefrog *would* be, ‘cause he was riding along with Tallwater.
Logan broke into a dignified trot and hurried after them.
+
Todd whistled. This was the first store he’d ever seen that had mobile ladders. “When they say 'bulk’ they *mean* it, yo."
Sara slowed. "Here we go. Cat food. Dry and wet.” She clambered up the ladder before he could volunteer. “'Way below!"
{WHAP!} A gigantic bag of kittie kibble landed nearby. Todd collected it and wrestled it into the trolley. As he did so, Sara descended with a large cardboard box. Bernie’s Kitty Delight Assortment. Another scoot and he actually got to help her get some canned food assortments. A little way on down the line, it was him who got to climb the ladder, owing to the fact that the boxes Sara wanted were too high. Boy’s training pants, size three. Pampers for a toddler, and an assortment of kiddie munchies.
By that time, Logan had caught up with them.
He insinuated himself between them and growled, "No funny stuff."
And that, of course, gave them giggles for half the aisle cruise.
The other aisles had some things loose, and underneath, the option to take whole boxes was inherent. "Juice assortment…” muttered Sara, snagging a box. “Prune juice…” she got three bottles. “Long-life milk…” another box.
Some things weren’t announced, just seized and added to the array of things inside the trolley. It was quite a pile.
“Yo, how many people you shoppin’ for?"
"Four households, eleven people, and roughly two hundred cats.” Sara grinned. “Steve’s mom runs a cat shelter and the Grunchliks have five kids, all under four."
"Whoah. How’d that happen?"
"That’s a funny story…” she began. The Grunchliks had been having trouble conceiving, and were considering the IVF programme when Dave, the husband, hired Sara’s finding services to get his wife a fertility god to cheer her up. The idol *worked*, providing the Grunchliks with their first set of twins… and their *second* set of twins a year later. They desperately sold the obje’t d'art on Ebay, but not fast enough, since they got a single son the next year. “And now, the poor dears are hard pressed to keep up. It’s the least I can do to shop for them."
+
Logan had a slight twitch by the time he finally dragged those two plus the half-ton of stuff out of the store. He’d thought this was going to be quick. He was wrong. Tallwater had to cruise every single aisle to "see what was what” and picked up objects both random and bizarre.
Then she’d had to take the trolley back to get a badge so she could get a discount the *next* time she was there.
Then she’d had to sort through all the shit she’d accumulated and divide them into packages so it would be easier when they arrived.
At least it couldn’t get *much* worse.
~
Lance checked the house. Todd was off working. Tabby was off doing something… or some*one*… Fred had gone to see if there were any kitchen jobs for the weekend. Pietro was away occupying his skittish brain with fashion and petty crime.
He had the house to himself!
Lance picked up his guitar and strummed it, fiddling with the tuning. At last, he had some peace and quiet to compose. The dreadful doggerel about 'Pretty Kitty’ had been burned, and rightfully so. He couldn’t win someone over like that. He had to be… romantic.
“Oh, I know lots of girls go by Katie or Katheryn…dada da dadada… Marlyn or Mary-Anne… But I will always say that there’s one girl for meee… And that would be you, lovely little Kitty…"
Yeah. He had a chorus.
Well. Most of a chorus. He needed a middle rhyme, and doing another 'Anne’ thing wouldn’t work.
Just how many girl’s names ended in 'ine’ or something that sounded like it? Not a lot that *he* recalled.
He tried again. "Oh, I know lots of girls go by Katie or Katherine… Tillie or Tisha-Bren… Marlyn or Mary-Anne… But I will always say that there’s one girl for meee…” He trailed off. Okay. That scanned. So what if he only knew one Tisha-Bren, from his old school? It *worked*.
Now to figure out the way the verses went. Something about how she outshone every other girl he’d ever seen… Yeah.
This was gonna *work*. Singing under her window would get him mauled a little by the Wolverine, but it’d be worth it. A moonlight serenade with flowers and junk. Perfect.
He was in the *zone*.
Nothing could ruin his moment.
“ROCK STAAAAARRRRRRRR!” {Whump!}
The next thing he knew, he was staring at two naked breasts at ground zero.
“Goddamn it, Tabitha, you fucking *slut*!"
"Pay attention to me,” she said, dangling her boobs in his face.
“Put'cher *shirt* back on. God…” he wriggled free of her and put as much space between them as he could get. “Don’t you ever go for the subtle approach?"
"What? Like fucking you when you’re asleep?"
*God* he hoped that wasn’t a real-life example…
+
First, there was the cat house. An actual home for cats that had been recently re-named according to Tallwater. Everyone still called it the cat house and sniggered when they did so.
The van in the drive had *just* pulled up by the time Logan inched to a halt around some arrogantly insolent felines who *knew* that he wouldn’t run over them. The driver hopped out of the van and put on a business smile.
Tallwater and Treefrog were holding hands and giggling a lot.
"Oi! Break it up.” _It’s going to be hard to marry 'er in white, the way things are goin’…[1]_
“Oop. Showtime.” They scrabbled out of the car. “It’s only me, Steve!"
And *that* was when Steve went all girly-mode.
”*SA*raaa… *dar*ling! Is the grumpy one behind the wheel your infamous invisible father?“
"No, he’s Logan. He -ah- teaches at the Institute up on the hill."
”*No*… You’ve been *spotted*, haven’t you?“
Sara blushed. "Caught improvising my scales."
_Ugh…_ Logan winced. _Better hurry this along before she gets worse._
Treefrog was trying to wrestle cat food out of the back and fend off the impatient cats, at least four of which were trying to climb him.
Logan grabbed the tinned food and foot-shuffled his way through the yawping crowd.
"You good with cat,” said an elderly asian lady who *had* to be Mrs Tait. “You want buy cat? Very gentle. Very sweet."
"Can’t. Friend o’ mine’s allergic[2].” He scoped the place out. Almost the entire house was a kitty gymnasium. There was even carpet on the ceilings for the determined climber. One of whom landed on his shoulder and gave him the love-in-buckets treatment. He never minded cats. Most of them were better than people… but *why* in God’s name did they have to show you, up close and personal, what their ass looked like?
Tallwater was half-covered in mewling cats, after the bag of kibble she’d rescued from the Treefrog… who followed behind with kittens hanging onto almost every availlable surface.
“Yo, get offa me. I don’t got no kitty food. Honest. This is fo’ the people."
"Don’t trip,” said Tallwater. “There’d be a cat-astrophe."
”…euw…“
[1] Logan’s really, *really* old-fashioned.
[2] Side-fling to _Free to a Loving Home._
~~