Writer - Iris N. Schwartz
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Lewis had posted a baby photo on ForTwoOfUs.com. This was deceitful, as he looked different at eighteen months. Plus it was a head-to-shoulders shot, so it did appear terribly unlike him now.
As Lewis sat in the shabby lounge of a Bensonhurst bowling alley, he wondered if Deidre's dating-site photograph was current. Would she look as underage this afternoon as she did on the website (even though she had to be at least twenty)─with wispy, golden tresses, the palest blue eyes, almost blubbery lips? Maybe she wore a hearing aid, as Lewis thinks he might need, or had scars that she'd Photoshopped. Lewis tore off a white string from his midnight-blue denim vest, shook his paper cup of Coke to distribute the foam. Superficial attractiveness mattered to him. He made no excuses for this. Tawdry perfume infiltrated the lounge. The scent of this woman made every man stop and stare. She was almost four feet, eleven inches, with a swath of electric blue in her otherwise mud-colored, chin-length hair. She, looked, Lewis estimated, about one-hundred-and-sixty pounds. She told him she was "curvy." She didn’t say she was short. Could this be Deirdre? Lewis felt excitement rise, like a birthday balloon he'd inflated for his coworker last Tuesday. He wanted to talk with this shorty, but didn't want to throw away money on another drink. He shifted several times in his chair, causing a pervasive nausea, then heard his stomach loudly gurgling. It would happen again. He stayed in place as best he could, but began to feel wave after wave of nausea. Lewis placed his hand over his stomach, but the gurgling grew more clamorous. Why had he downed two large orders of cheese fries? The Lilliputian brunette heard and saw him simultaneously. Their eyes met. "Bartender," Lewis's voice boomed. "Please bring me a glass of water...and a large bowl." The bartender shook his head and sneered. “Yeah, I'm coming." Lewis gathered his full five-feet-five inches and two-hundred-and-seventy pounds and carefully rose from behind the rickety, grease-stained table. He watched electric blue and brown swim toward him as liquefied Velveeta erupted from his mouth. THE END |
