If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you

ESC’s still going on but I’m so tired of trying so hard that I blew off Ms. Flan and upped the goof level from last week’s SS offering to this no-brain bit of fun with this week’s Sunday Scribblings prompt, “soul mate.”

rest01.jpg picture by pemerytx

Alexa returned from the ladies room visibly refreshed.  She sat down at the table, took a sip of wine and leaned toward Melvin.  “Now where was I?” she said to him excitedly.  “Ah yes, my sister’s behavior!  Well, now, naturally I took my sister aside and told her, in a not so nice way, that such behavior would not be tolerated.  I mean, this was my bridal shower, for crissakes!  And there she was pouring on the charm, buttering everyone up with compliments that sounded fake to me, but everyone was blushing and acting all flattered, sucking them up as if they’d been deprived of compliments for months!  My God!  More people were actually talking to her than to me and I  was the one everyone was supposed to be lavishing attention on, not her!  And Melvin, I mean to tell you, even after I talked to her, my sister did not step down and let me have the stage, even knowing how hurt I was…”

Melvin let Alexa ramble on.  He watched her eyes blankly, both his hands on the table, the right one turning his salad fork over and over.  On the white linen tablecloth the fork made barely audible thumps that were comforting to him.


His eyes had fallen to Alexa’s cartoon mouth and he felt a heavy, trance-like pull as he watched the wideness of it moving fast and elastic.  A hint of fear disturbed his mind and he thought to tear his eyes away from the motile mouth lest he become hypnotized.


Melvin stopped turning the salad fork and focused on it, examined it, noticed the simple clean lines of it.  He turned it over, brought it close to his eyes.  Dansk.  Stainless.  He put the fork down, looked back up at Alexa and smiled passively.


From what he could tell, she had moved on to her second wedding and was dramatizing yet another injustice done to her, this time by her best friend.  She was blessedly interrupted by the waiter.


“Another glass of merlot, Miss?” the waiter asked, nose high, eyes closed.


“Oh, absolutely!  Please!” Alexa enthused.  “This is such fine wine, so smooth and flavorful, and the aroma—“


“Yes, Miss,” the waiter cut her off and turned to Melvin.  “And for you, sir?”


“Ah…I suppose not…no, I’d better not…since I’m driving—“


“Very good, sir,” the waiter said impatiently.  “Your dinner will be ready momentarily.”


Melvin nodded and the waiter walked away.  Immediately, a vague sense of regret bothered him slightly.  Perhaps he should have ordered another glass of wine.  He looked at Alexa and for a moment thought of interrupting her so that he might attempt to regain the waiter’s attention.


But Alexa had begun right where she’d left off, with her best friend having just winked suggestively at her new husband number two, and Melvin felt it would perhaps not do to interrupt at this critical point of Alexa’s never-ending story.  He sighed, and comforted himself with thumping his salad fork.


Dinner arrived and Melvin ate silently, concentrating on cutting his Chicken Cordon Bleu just so, and trying to single out the different spices in the cream sauce.  Alexa managed to eat and drink and still to continue on with her life story.


By the time the dishes had been cleared, she’d finished telling him of her third and last marriage—as of this telling—and she was expressing her desire to marry again.  She wanted children and she couldn’t see her way to having them out of wedlock.  She didn’t believe in that.


Melvin swallowed hard.  He hoped she hadn’t already targeted him as a potential husband number four.  Images of a mute, expressionless life filled his mind’s eye.  He saw Alexa moving fast and sporadic like a chicken with her chicks around a barnyard.  He saw her cartoon mouth engulfing him, taking him inside it and digesting him slowly as a mouse being worked through a snake.


He felt something grab his hand and he jumped, and a deep, displeasing sound forced its way out of his body.  He looked around him trying to believe the sound hadn’t come from him.  People nearby had stopped eating and were staring at him, surprised, shocked, concerned.  He smiled at all of them sheepishly and looked back at Alexa.  She had drawn back in her chair, recoiled from his reaction.  She sighed, relieved, when she saw that he was alright.


“My goodness!” Alexa said, one hand over her heart.  “Now where was I?  Oh yes!” she said and smiled coyly.  She reached over the table, took Melvin’s hand in hers.  “I had just taken your hand in mine and I was going to tell you that I know this is just our first date, but I feel like I’ve known you forever!  I have never felt this way before!  I feel like you and I are soul mates!  Can you feel it?!”


Melvin cleared his throat.  Suddenly he wasn’t sure what he felt.  He found himself unable to get a proper reading of his emotions.  And who was he to say if they were soul mates?


Alexa was leaning toward him, expectantly.  An indefinite measure of nervousness settled on him for a moment.  He looked at Alexa.  She was nice looking, certainly, and she had nice eyes…


“Ah, maybe…there’s a chance I might feel it…perhaps I do—”


Alexa had to cut in or she’d burst from joy, “Oh I knew it!  I knew it!” she exclaimed, bouncing in her chair, both hands clasped over her heart.  “This is how it happens!” she exclaimed, all giddy.  “This is how true soul mates are united!”







“You Talk Too Much”

George Thorogood


You talk too much, you talk too much
I can’t believe the things that you say everyday
If you keep on talking baby
You know you’re bound to drive me away

Now you get on the telephone with your girlfriend
Your conversation baby ain’t got no end
Yakety-yakety-yakety-yak all the time
You keep on talking baby drive me out of my mind
You talk too much
I can’t believe the things that you say everyday
If you keep on talking baby
You know you’re bound to drive me away

Well I laid out in the afternoon I start to nappin’
You walk into the room with them jaws a-flappin’
You keep that motormouth moving morning, noon and night
You keep on talking baby make my head turn white
You talk too much
I can’t believe the things that you say everyday
If you keep on talking baby
You know you’re bound just to drive me away

I think you’re trying to put me through some kind of test
I’m begging you baby won’t you give it a rest
You talk about people that you don’t even know
Keep it up baby I’m gonna pick up and blow
You talk too much
I can’t believe the things that you say everyday
If you keep on talking baby
You know you’re bound to drive me away

Don’t get me wrong baby I don’t mean to complain
But if you keep on talking you’re gonna drive me insane
You keep on talking all around the clock
I’m begging you baby won’t you please stop
You talk too much
I can’t believe the things that you say everyday
If you keep on talking baby
You know you’re bound to drive me away




Restaurant photo from http://www.arkansas.com/images/blog/Image/Michelangelo%27sConway.jpg



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The above was spun off the Sunday Scribblings prompt “#166 – soul mate.”  Click here for more on prompt #166 from other Sunday Scribblings participants.


16 responses to “If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you

  1. Hi Miss A,
    I’ve missed reading your yarns. Well-done. I feel at home and I like your choice of a grand piano to illustrate this story. Brings to mind all sorts of romantic images.
    (BTW, I used to be “Gel” of the blog “Emerald Eyes.”)
    Is the “You Talk Too Much” a song? It sounds familiar and sure fits the prompt as well from a different perspective.

  2. LOL. Crazy ass alexa. She reminds me of the women at the hairsalon. Mondays, I do reception at a salon in a rich part of the town. Money really drives some ppl crazy & bored.. If I hear one more divorce story, I will shoot myself.. These women don’t date, they just.. Marry! It’s so bad that they have a book on divorce (tips & etc..) at the coffee shop, next to the mints. LOL. They’re so nutty.

  3. I suspect it was the sex that drew the other three in. While it lasted. I assume she talked all during…(about the others).

    Graham Greene called his self-consciously “lighter” pieces his “Entertainments.” I like that you cut yourself loose from the Great ESC-pectations and just had some fun.

    I had some hope for Melvin at first (probably a blind date. “She’s hot!” Fails to mention the motile mouth.), but he looks ripe for the web himself.

    I love how you’ve instilled in me the possibility for violent retribution (you and Flan ARE cousins!). That lovely salad fork meditation elicited a nifty fantasy of gouged eyes (hey! Ms Alister was never that gratuitous!).

    You know what they say: A writer writes. Sometimes even the Alexa-dogs must have their days. Better Alexa on the page than still running around in yo haid.

    Your title reminded me of “If you have to ask, you can’t afford it,” and its cousin (my favorite, useful beyond merchandise), “If you have to ask, you can’t have it.”

    A lovely day to you, Duchess.

  4. Holy smokes – after the first paragraph I was almost hoping Melvin would turn out to be a serial killer. I was kind of obsessing on the fork myself.

    Isn’t she horrid?! If only jelly-bone Melvin had the sense to know what he was doing!


    Well, hello again, Lynne-formerly-Gel! I hope you don’t do us SS’ers like The Alchemist, aka Gamol Gabere, aka Jack Webb. Well I suppose it was kind of fun figuring out he was the same guy! Anyway, glad you liked this fun job here. And yes, “You Talk Too Much,” by the illustrious blues boogie man, George Thorogood, definitely the backside of the perspective! I knew our Melvin Milquetoast couldn’t stick up for himself so I brought GT in ; ) Your comment makes me wonder, though…sounds like the MP3 widget above the lyrics doesn’t work. Works for me, but maybe it’s a licensing issue…


    LOL! The old Liz Taylor philosophy! Naïve me thought that was so old it was dead, but no! It’s alive and kicking still, next to the mints! :-D


    Welcome, Shari! Just broke free for a bit today, so will be over later on to see what you cooked up for soul mate : )


    You may be right about that. Although mealy-mouthed Melvin strikes me as being one who’d bite a bare hook, no bait, no lures, nothin’. But one never truly knows what lurks in a nature. It’s entirely possible ole Mel sprouts a backbone and uses that fork or Ms. Motile pushes him over the edge to it!
    I appreciate you backing me up goof-wise. It was that or go nuts. Shit. Maybe I should have let that happen, so’s I could be freaky like Flan! Well, I know there’ll be some kind of next time…there always is.
    In the meantime, I’m not gonna ask for anything good, ‘cause I want it all. Wait…


    LOL! Well, along the lines of what I wrote to Paschal, Melvin Milquetoast might yet make the headlines once he’s done time with Ms. Motile!


    Haha, yeah, it’s so real it’s scary beyond belief!


    LOL! Me, too! You know I’m bad-mouthing our Melvin here, but this chick hits my flight button so bad, if she wouldn’t take no for an answer I’d do just about anything to get away…tell her I was going to the rest room and run through the kitchen out the back door…something!

  6. I am long on commitments and short on words this week Alicat. But as I sit drinking a Guiness in DC’s Fado, I am LOL at Melvins plight! I have a friend who said he was in Louie’s Tavern in Dallas after consuming a large quantiiy of magic mushrooms. He was talking to some chick who was endlessly yacking and he said she morphed into a giant cartoon bird, beak all CPA king away!! This sent him into a fit of side splitting hysterics, tears pouring out, all red faced and drooling. As you can imagine, this young lady was not amused….

    LOL! I can see that cartoon bird clacking! I can see the laughing maxing out to gasping, red-faced and drooling! I do love your high def graphics, travelin’ man. Just a long hop and a stretched-out skip and there you are in Fado’s WDC. Well, alright! I’m thrilled you stopped by here on Guiness-power to do this cockamamie post proud! ;-)


    Haha, this is great! You’re probably right, P! I can see a towering shadow against the wall, the shadow of the CPA king, our mighty Melvin bent over his keyboard, his fingers rapping out his calculations, the only masterminding he knows. Soon as he steps away he shrinks to the size of a mouse, scurries off all timid and squeaking through the lesser-known parts of life.

  8. DEE
    I know what you mean, but it’s not me. Oh, yes, well I’m game, of course. That’s me: game. But it’s that wild-eyed Southern boy with a brain the size of Texas, and that raging riffster, that crazy-talented Jersey boy, that are responsible for blessedly tearing this place up on a regular basis…

    You know, I better start treating them nicer…

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