OSCULATING BUFONIDAE -- PART TWO

“Would you mind telling me why we’re going to wherever this place is in my car? Why didn’t you just use a little magic and zap me to the party in a flash of blinding green light—or something?”

Vern, stretched out comfortably on the dash, his tail dangling in front of a speedometer that bounced wildly between twenty and eighty miles per hour, yawned.

“Because I’ve never ridden in a car—interesting. Besides, I’m not some animated character and the magic I have on this side of the portal is...um...limited to certain things. Not that I don’t have a little, mind you, but zapping in green or any other color of light isn’t part of it.” Without looking around, Vern continued, “Two more blocks and turn right.”

“But...but that’s Blanchard Avenue. We’re headed for the ritziest part of town.”

“So?”

“So, my car is going to look pretty much out of place over there in ‘Richville’, Vern.”

“I told you the two of you live in different worlds, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but—”

“No but, but, but, but. You just go where I tell you and don’t worry about the little details. Leave appearances to me.”

“Leave appearances to you? Okay, fine, but there’s a lot of fixing to do to take care of a thirty-five year old Chevy with a severe case of rust rash, Vern.”

!Bam! Sam was sitting behind the polished rosewood steering wheel of an equally ancient, but immaculate XKE worth a few hundred grand, at the very least.

“How...how did you do that?”

It wasn’t that he cared how it was done so much, but there he was, at the helm of one of the most sought after sex cars in the world, without so much as a single scratch in its glistening blood red, hand rubbed lacquer job that just happened to match his tie perfectly, and he didn’t see it happen. It was, well, incredible. Unbelievable. Magic.

“Don’t worry about how I did it. It’s done, right? You don’t like the color, maybe?” Vern said. He flicked his tail that now dangled between the matched Jaeger tach and speedometer with custom mother of pearl faces.

“No, no, no. I love the color. I just....” Sam could find no reason to continue.

#

“Oh, mom, not the white satin with sequins. I hate that dress and you know it.”

“Now, Rebecca, your father adores that one and we don’t have a lot of time to be sorting through all your clothes. Your guests will be arriving soon.”

“If he likes the damned thing so much, let him wear it. The sequins rasp my boobs and it hurts.”

Her mother’s voice echoed in the hall as she headed for the stairs, “Now, sweetheart, that dress won’t fit your father, you know that—and watch your language. They’re not boobs, they’re breasts. Now, get your ass into that dress and do your hair. I don’t want your guests waiting downstairs like they always do, while you go puttering around up here.”

“Mother, wait.”

“What, dear?”

“What if none of them suit me, again? Aren’t you running out of eligibles, yet? I know you’re trying to get me married off to some pig of a guy...I know it.”

“Why do you say that? We’re not trying to get you ‘married off’ to just any old pig as you put it. We just think you need to find some friends and get a social life going before...before—”

“Before I’m too old? Before it’s too late? Isn’t that it?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, dear.”

“Maybe not...but that’s what you want, isn’t it? Why can’t you just leave me alone and it’ll happen naturally, when I’m ready and I find the right one?”

“And how will you know when you’re ready and who is the right one, dear?”

“I don’t know—I just know I will.”

“Maybe, darling. Remember, you’re already twenty-nine and with September comes the big thirty.”

#

“Vern, how long do we have to hang around? We’ve been here over an hour and I haven’t seen any princess pop up.”

“She’ll show.”

“Yeah? When? I’m already stuffed with all these little sandwiches and tiny gizzies with veggies ‘n’ eggs jammed—”

“Hors d’oeuvres, you shallow heathen.”

“Hey, watch who you’re calling shallow. And you haven’t answered my question, either. When?”

“Patience, my little prince. Patience,” Vern said from his perch on Sam’s shoulder.

“How come no one else can see you, Vern? More of your More Good magic at work?”

“Um...sort of. Only you and your princess can see me—when I want you to. That’s the way this stuff works, you know. It’s in the rule book...somewhere.”

“No, I don’t know—”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a deep voice boomed out from the base of a long, curving stair. “I present to you the queen of the ball, Miss Rebecca Belle Baumeister.”

Sam turned to the sound of the voice and saw her starting down the stairs, white satin gown trailing out behind, a diamond tiara sparkling in her golden-red hair. She is gorgeous—maybe a little on the approaching plump side, but beautiful, Sam thought. He sucked in a deep breath and quite nearly choked on a lox-filled olive, one of those big green ones with freckles. He moved toward the stairs—a moth caught in her brilliant glow.

She was on the next to the last tread when her toe caught in the hem of flowing white satin with sequins. She tumbled straight for Sam. He caught her up in his arms before she slammed face first into the polished maple floor at the bottom of the stairs. He lifted her to her feet so that they were standing almost nose to nose at the base of the long spiral of wine-red carpeted steps. The heady scent of lilac tickled his senses and her soft green eyes melted away his tension and pounding headache in a flash.

“Hey, hey...that was close,” he said and broke out into a full grin—a seductive one, he hoped.

She returned his smile and it was seductive. Sam melted a little more. Rebecca took his arm and led him into the main party room where most of the guests, not having paid the least attention to the butler’s announcement of her entrance, were milling, mumbling, and munching. A string quintet was tuning up in a corner.

“Where did you come from? I’ve never seen you before, have I?” she said. Her voice was a choir to Sam.

“Um...no. This is my first time to one of your parties.”

“Okay...so, what’s your name?”

“Um...er...Sam.”

“Well, Sam, what do you say we break away at the first opportunity so I can get to know you a little better? These parties can be dreadfully boring sometimes.”

Sam felt his knees give way as all his cartilage turned to sludgy, gummy rubber. His whole body wobbled. He felt a little like Gumby personified.

TO BE CONTINUED Click the link below for Part Three

[agnostic.com]