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She could see the future, he could turn into a horse--they weren't exactly normal and neither one seemed to care.
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I'm old.
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I modeled for him once.

8.6. Date

Aug. 17th, 2009 02:06 am
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"She's smart, pretty, athletic...and she likes her guys on the tall and slightly weird side--you're perfect for her," Chantal laughed as she tried to give Tadhg yet another phone number.
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He was touching her indiscriminately, a hand on her shoulder then a brush of his fingers against her cheek--anything to try and set off one of her premonitions.
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We're so different and still so very much alike.
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Five Questions from the Irish Tigger:

1. What is your favorite flavor in the Tasty food group?

Mint Chocolate Chip. If we're talking Marble Slab though...gummy bears and fresh pineapple in vanilla bean.

2. Do you have a favorite author or genre of books?

Dean Koontz for the creepy/wacky, Barbara Taylor Bradford for the ridiculously romantic, Margaret Atwood for the intelligent women, J.R.R. Tolkien for the fantastic, Philip K Dick for the fascinating. That said, I'll read almost anything.

3. Conversely, what has been published in recent years that you absolutely loathe?

Twilight. I'll skip over the subject matter and the utterly ridiculous notion that all little girls need to find a creepy stalker of an abusive man to be complete (omg and have babies)--or I won't as evidenced by my little tirade, and just focus on the fact that it is poorly written prose and that the author needs a dictionary, thesaurus and a reality check. No, I will not carry nor will I order her books for anyone. Ever.

4. Do you have any questions you'd like to ask me?

Only about a million.

5. What sort of proposition are you ... proposing?

That we go get something from the Tasty Food Group and catch up since I haven't seen you in a while.
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Chantal pulled her car, a boxy little BMW too old to be considered a flashy vehicle, into the driveway of the address Tadhg MacEibhir had given her. It was quarter to ten on Saturday morning and she was more than a little eager to check out the ball python he was willing to place in her care.
Titania. Queen of the Faeries.
Reptilian diva, more likely, she mused as she got out of the car, wiggled her feet back into her flip flops and stood looking at the house before her.

He said ten, she had a few minutes to spare and to compose herself. Meeting new people was something she both enjoyed and dreaded. It was great getting to know someone, fun to make a connection, make a was also entirely uncomfortable and awkward when it came to basic niceties like shaking hands and making casual contact. She hoped he wouldn't think her rude or some maladjusted introvert if she tried to forgo being hands-on with anyone but the snake.

Chantal smiled again. A pet. Something she could pick up, handle, caress and not have to worry about finding the unexpected. It never worked with animals, only people. People other than herself. There's irony for you. See the future for everyone else but your own is nothing but a black void. Some talent.

She shook herself and made her way to the front door, rang the bell once and then knocked.


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September 2009

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