Page 96 of Bridesmaid Undercover
And from there, it’s a fit of laughter.
To the point that both of us grab the to-go bags from our meals and spit our partially chewed sandwiches inside.
“Fuck,” he roars before he laughs some more.
I join him, gripping my stomach as tears form in my eyes.
“You’re disgusting,” he gasps.
“Me?” I croak. “What about you?”
“You’re the one snorting meat out of your nose.”
I hold my finger up in contention. “That did not come out of my nose. That came out of my mouth while I snorted out of my nose. It was a double whammy of exhalation.”
“That’s a fucking term?”
“It is and trademarked by me, so don’t you dare try to use it.”
“Show me the paperwork,” he says while jabbing his finger onto the table. “Show me the paperwork, and I won’t use it.”
I hold up my palm to him. “See, double whammy exhalation, trademarked by Professor Plum, so good luck debating that in court.”
His lips turn up as he studies me. “You’re right, you have me in a chokehold. No way can I beat that ironclad paperwork.”
I shrug and pick my sandwich back up. “Don’t mess with me, Henrietta. I know what the hell I’m doing.”
I’m about to take a bite of my sandwich when he says, “Can you pick up the snorted, double whammy exhalation meat? Rather not stare at it while I finish my sandwich.”
“Oh right, sure.”
“How does this look?”Hardy asks as he moves his centerpiece toward me.
Oh dear.
It’s an opaque, fluted vase, which Hardy has stuffed full with pom-poms glued on sticks, each stem the same height, offering no color differentiation or texture. I believe a toddler could have done a better job.
“Not bad,” I lie.
“Really?” he asks, full of hope.
“No, it’s terrible.”
His joy immediately vanishes. “Why must you pump me up only to push me down?”
“Builds character,” I answer before moving over to his side of the table. “Okay, remember what I said about having different variations and textures?”
“I recall something of the sort,” he answers.
“And what do you have in your vase right now?”
“All pom-poms of the same color,” he replies.
“Yes, that’s correct, good job, Hardy.” He gives me a look, clearly not appreciating my condescending tone. I sheepishly smile. “Well, although it’s a great selection of the same size and color pom-poms, why don’t we pull some of these out…” I pull out almost all of the pom-pom sticks, leaving just two. “And then we pick a few others in different colors and textures. Like, mix the small with the big and then use some of these twig balls and bamboo sticks as fillers.” I pick up a few and arrange them in the vase, showing him just what I mean. When I’m done, I turn the vase toward him. “What do you think?”
He studies it for a moment. “I think I should go back to stringing the pom-poms.”
I chuckle. “You were very good at that.”
