Saturday, January 19th, 2008
approximately 12:15am
Stabbing furtively at the buttons on his xBox controller, Trav’s been on the couch playing Call of Duty 4 for the last five hours. He’s determined to find that zone where he and the game finally ‘click’ – so he can start kicking virtual ass the way he usually does. I’ve been lying next to him the entire time, snuggled in a heavy fleece blanket reading a book with the cat curled in the crook of my knees.
Finished, I close the cover of Lyrics by Sting and hug it to my chest. Trav glances over at me and starts another round. “You like the book?”
Earlier he’d called me while I was schlepping leftover event supplies from my truck into the office. He was killing time at the book store while waiting for an oil change, and wondered would I be at all interested in a collection of Sting’s lyrics?
It was hard to make out exactly what I said as 14 pounds of cake and chicken wings dropped to the floor, but it was something to the effect of, DEAR GOD, MAN, what are you thinking? Winged monkey demons might spring out and spit acid in your eyes just so they can gobble that book right out of your hands. Get it. GET IT NOW.
It’s entirely possible Trav could have come home with stubby wrists. Winged monkey demons despise Sting.
“I LOVE this book.” I closed my eyes and smiled. “This is my bible.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Trav looked at me like I was insane, or that he very clearly hoped I was kidding, and admonished, “but there’s only ONE Bible.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “and this one is MINE.”
© 2008, jules.maas. All rights reserved.
