hour is still early when Lex and Stan make their way unsteadily to the
DownUnder, and upon entering, to their great surprise, it's none other than
Red sitting in the captain’s seat at the head of the bar. He has returned
from his brief, uh, sabbatical. Not only that, but Red's Wife is also in the
house, a commanding presence on the left side of the bar. No one has ever
seen the two of them together in the same location before. Actually, they
don't really appear to be together tonight, they seem to be here separately.
Red is chatting up a ungainly brunette that Stan has seen wandering
around the town on occasion. She appears teary-eyed and more than a little
wasted. She is talking to Red in wet whispers, head-to-head, creating a
little private zone for the two of them. Disturbingly, the girl seems to
find Red quite comforting.
Red looks as though he has lost a fair amount of weight, maybe as much
as twenty pounds, and he appears to be freshly scrubbed. As a matter of
fact, Red looks much better than anyone would ever have expected. He is the
picture of health. His clothes are not only new, but also somewhat stylish,
and furthermore they fit him. His beard is nicely trimmed, and wait, is that
a diamond earring that he's wearing?
is more than one good show to watch tonight.
Around the corner by the jukebox, Red's Wife is also working on a love
connection. She is totally slammed, and has a frightened young man
constrained by the loops of his jeans. He looks like he may have walked into
the joint by mistake. He is perhaps twenty-three, slight, blond hair in a
collegiate cut, his face panicked. He keeps glancing around the room, as
though he is searching for someone to rescue him. It is possible that he had
friends when he first walked in, but they’ve all abandoned him now.
Susan and Melinda are sitting at a small wobbly table pushed over into
the corner. It's nine-fifteen and the band will be coming on soon. The
little table they've chosen is a fine spot to sit. There won’t be much of a
view of the band, but it has a good sight line of the bar, where the real
entertainment promises to be taking place. It’s a two ring circus, Red and
Red's Wife. This could be explosive. This could be hilarious - hell, this
already is hilarious. That's precisely the reason Melinda picked this table
in the first place - it's the perfect seat for spying.
Lex imagines that the girls have been anxiously waiting on him to show
up and give them a report on his session with Stan, but Susan and Melinda
seem to be having a grand time without his assistance. They can see every
inch of Red, who is now sitting with his back against the bar, legs spread
wide, with the brunette occupying the space in between. He is doing
something odd with the girl’s hair. What the hell is he doing, anyway? He's
got a long strand of her hair and it looks like he's trying to clean his
fingers with it.
Unfortunately for Susan and Melinda, their seats only allow them to
see Red's Wife from the waist up, which is a bummer. If something really
neat starts to happen, they're going to have to stand up and crane their
necks for a better view. Maybe they should ask her to move to the other side
of the bar.
walks cautiously into the DownUnder. Wow, what a scene this is! The place is
much as he had imagined, although smaller and much louder than what he has
been led to expect of bars from what he’s seen on television. The room is
full of happy looking people smoking cigarettes and having a good time. It
is dark enough for Selar to feel that he can blend right in. The room is
simultaneously scary and exciting to him.
sees Stan before he spots her, and she studies his face for signs of change
before she speaks. He looks pretty wasted, but he’s grinning, and that gives
her cause to be hopeful. She can't help but notice that Stan and Lex are in
need of a little additional stimulation. The Bear Farts seem to have made
them somewhat sluggish. She orders coffee for Lex - Okay Lex, an Irish
Coffee -and pulls Stan over to her side.
"Stan" she says, smiling sweetly and discretely placing a small vial
of coke in his palm, "would you mind putting this away in the car for me?
I’m parked out in back. Careful. It's pretty outrageous."
What a good
girl! Stan gets a big old goofy smile on his face as he heads out to the
‘Di Duh Doo Da, Dida Dida Doo Da’ he hums on his way outside. He just
can’t help himself. ‘Brandy, you’re a fine girl. What a good wife you would
be…’ What sort of crap is this going through my head, Stan wonders. 'Brandy'
by The Looking Glass? Insidious bubble gum music performed by Belgians? On
the other hand, who cares? As he opens the car door and unscrews the lid of
the vial, Stan is singing out loud. 'But my life, my love and my lady, is
‘Di Duh Doo Da,
Dida Dida Doo Da’.
"Hooray," Susan whispers to Melinda. "I think that Stan is back to normal."
"Lex rules," whispers Melinda.
“I rule,” says Lex.
finds a tiny unclaimed space with a stool, right behind the cash register,
beside the sturdy thigh of Red's Wife. He politely says hello and she glares
at him. He quickly pops a couple of Tic-Tacs.
Selar orders a Coke. He would like to take part in everything that's a
part of America, as drinking surely is, but he doesn't want to have to drink
an alcoholic beverage just yet. Will that be all right?
It scares Selar sometimes when he encounters a drunken citizen in line
at the store. These people were capable of snapping out at him at any time,
for any crazy reason. In what way was it his fault if a customer were to
select a Quarter Pounder Big Bite that was a bit too overdone? Some people
like them that way. They buy them special.
Selar thinks that it should be okay for him to just drink a soda. But
merciful heavens, two dollars for a Coke? He could get a Super Big Gulp for
less than that, and keep the cup.
Selar opens the tin of Camel Turkish Jade Menthol Lights and sets them
prominently on the bar top. The handsome camel faces the ceiling. Selar
lights one and lets it slowly burn down in the ashtray. He still doesn't
smoke, but he has nineteen more for sharing with any potential friend in
Red's brunette is named Dora. Red now knows this because he has just
called her Laura and had his face slapped for the mistake. It is a gesture
from another era, but coming from Dora it seems somehow appropriate. Now she
is crying real tears, and Red is clumsily trying to calm her down. He needs
to convince her to stay with him a little while longer, at least until his
wife leaves, or faced deadly embarrassment. Red buys her a shot of the bar’s
finest tequila. Which is not really all that fine.
The band begins to play. They are a fairly grizzled looking group,
kind of like Concrete Blond gone tragically wrong. However, a bar band
cannot afford to focus solely on appearances. They must live or die by their
chops, so as is the custom of the Tsunami Peters Band, they kick off the
evening with their biggest crowd pleaser, 'Mustang Sally'. It’s not the
worst version you’ve ever heard. They plan to play it again later in their
Wife grabs her terrified young captive and pulls him out onto the center of
the dance floor. She pushes her leg hard into his crotch, and really starts
to grind her thigh. She is wearing a yellow plastic rain parka, hood on,
with ragged cutoffs underneath. She catches Melinda's eye for just a moment,
and something flashes between them. Melinda holds Red's Wife in the twilight
between contempt and fascination. There is starlight lurking in those eyes,
and so much more. Stars eating stars.
Stan returns from the parking lot, wide eyed and considerably more
alert. "Wha'd I miss?" he shouts. Wow, that sounded loud. Stan is begining
to face the fact that he has been fairly awful to be around lately. No fun
“You’re missing everything,” says Susan, pointing her index finger at
Red, and nodding her head in the direction of the dreaded Red’s Wife.
“Come on, Stan, we need to get up and dance so we can have a better view
of the whole panorama. Red’s Wife is on a shark attack out there. We have to
go watch now. Come.” Melinda joins them on the floor. It feels a little
The three dance in a triangular formation, slowly circling clockwise
so that at any given time two of them will be able to watch Red’s Wife and
one of them will be able to keep an eye on Red. Lex is happily assessing the
situation from his seat, nodding his head in time to the music. He has
always liked ‘Mustang Sally’. Lex is thinking that he sure does have a lot
of fun with this little group. Good guys, not like those weasels at work.
Wonder what Connie would think of them… Not much, probably.
Lex picks a new project, shifting his attention to studying the way
that Red restricts his eyes from moving within ninety degrees of the
direction of his wife. What an asshole. That prick threatened me. He's dead
meat. I’ll kick his ass. One of these days, I’ll do just that. Look at that
sucker with his ugly girlfriend. He’s afraid to move his eyes in his wife’s
direction, even when she's out there creating a scene.
Fascinating thing to watch. Red has a red zone. Lex can’t wait to tell
the others about this.
Red's Wife has pushed her young gentleman friend up against her bar
stool, and she commences dry humping him, slamming him hard against the
rail. People are pointing and loudly hooting. Red sees nothing. Cindy frowns
and looks undecidedly at the phone. Time to call upstairs?
Selar keeps getting bumped around from the action, and one
particularly hard jolt causes him to knock over his soda. The cola floods
the bar and runs down the flank side, where it is quickly absorbed by the
unfortunate young man's khakis.
Oh no, Selar thinks, I've called unwanted attention to myself.
Cindy approaches Selar - oh dear, they are going to ask me to leave in
disgrace. Cindy looks at Red's Wife, makes a face, and apologizes to Selar
for the incident. This is a remarkable turn of events. It gives Selar the
opportunity to practice accepting an apology.
"No, it is really my fault. I should have been more attentive to the
things that were going on around me."
"Aren't you sweet," Cindy says. "I'd be pissed off if that happened to
me. I'm going to throw that bitch out on her ass just as soon as I get you
another drink. A real one. On me, okay."
Selar says okay, even though there were several parts of Cindy’s
response that he most assuredly did not properly understand.
Cindy tops a glass off with ice, fills it halfway up from a square
brown bottle with a black and white label on it, and then completes it with
a frothy stream of Coca Cola. Whatever this drink is, it is most delicious.
Selar decides that he will ask Cindy what the special flavoring is at his
‘Mustang Sally’ may not be the world’s most romantic song, but holy cow,
look at the passionate effect that it's having on the Red family. Red is
nuzzling away with Dora, while Susan is going into hysterics watching the
young man struggle with Red's Wife. The crazy woman has him totally crushed
against the bar and is roughly fondling his crotch. He looks like he's
getting ready to scream. Whether it’s in pleasure or pain is hard to gauge.
The song ends, and Red's Wife grabs his balls for a hard squeeze. He makes a
shrill gasping sound as she takes him by the shoulders and pushes him into a
nearby table, yelling "Get the fuck away from my seat."
Huh oh, trouble, table #3 is down, resulting in a group of newly
dissatisfied customers. Cindy has been expecting something like this. She
may have waited a little too long before acting, but now she quickly calls
upstairs for Wallace to come down and help control the situation.
The band has momentarily paused, watching the unfolding drama, unsure
about launching into another song. Cindy yells out ‘Play!’, and they break
into an unconvincing and ill-advised version of 'Bad to the Bone'.
Lex has been forced by these recent events to rise to his feet. He
really has no choice since he can't see enough of the action from where he’s
sitting. He suddenly realizes that he has moved up to within punching
distance of Red, and quickly takes another two paces forward. Incredibly,
Red has still not looked in the direction of Red's Wife.
Susan, Melinda, and Stan have dispensed with any pretense of dancing
at this point. They are at front row central. Melinda runs back to the table
to grab her drink. "Hurry on up" she tells Lex in passing.
Selar is very much enjoying his Jack and Coke, as well as all of the
lively entertainment. This is the most interesting place. He is certainly
glad that he came here tonight.
Cindy no longer has the luxury of waiting for Wallace to arrive. She
must spring into action. She tells Red's Wife to leave right now or
she's calling the cops. She is banned from the DownUnder forever.
Red's Wife looks demonic. She stares hard at Cindy as she finishes up
her drink, dribbling a little beer from the corner of her mouth and allowing
it to roll down off her chin. She slowly stands back up from her recently
reclaimed seat and pulls a wrinkled twenty out of her back pocket, throwing
it down on the bar. That's awfully nice, Cindy thinks, people are usually
reluctant to pay their tab when you kick them out, and they so seldom leave
a tip. Then in a heartbeat, Red's Wife is over in front of Red, eyes
shooting out yellow flaming fingers. She yanks the brunette from between
Red’s legs and twists her around by an exposed bra strap.
"Did you call me a lesbian?" she bellows. The band stops playing and
the room stands still. “You called me a lesbian, didn't you bitch?”
Before the startled girl has a chance to say ‘I beg your pardon’,
Red's Wife has punched her soundly in the nose. Wallace comes running down
the stairs just in time to stop the second blow, catching her fist in
mid-air. Like Red, Red’s Wife knows her limits. This guy is way too big for
her to mess with.
Wallace is roughly pushing Red's Wife through the crowd - everyone's
excited and on their feet by now - and as they are passing by the band she
executes a quick spin away from Wallace and heads for the drummer. The
drummer is in somewhat of a stupor, but still fully capable of playing. He
freezes in time and space as she jerks his snare drum right off the stand
and runs back to the bar with it. People are starting to abandon their
checks and leaving in a fairly steady stream. Red's Wife is standing in
front of the brunette, what’s-her-name, who is cowering and crying
hysterically now, blood running down from her nose and dripping on to her
baby pink tank top.
You can tell what cartoon is taking place in the head of Red's Wife.
It’s the one where the drum comes crashing down and the head pokes out of
the other side with little stars dancing up above. Modern drumheads being
quite resilient, however, the snare bounces off the poor girls head and goes
flying through the air, where it lands in the middle of the only large table
still occupied. Drinks are flying everywhere, sent hurtling into space at
close to the speed of light. It is chaos. Stan barely suppresses a smile.
Red's Wife is so totally busted. Cindy has called the police,
and half a dozen of the remaining regulars have joined Wallace in
constraining Red's Wife and carting her outside by the arms and legs to wait
for the cruisers. She is shouting garbled curses at the top of her lungs.
Lex has helpfully joined in on the transport team. He imagines that
when he returns to the table, he will sit there smugly and wait until
someone absolutely begs him to tell what happened with Red's Wife after the
cops arrived. This will entail at least three fingers of their finest
scotch. Or Johnny Walker. Or whatever the hell they've got.
Whoa, thinks Red, looking up and around, she’s really has emptied the
place. I hate that bitch. I fucking hate that bitch. Goddamit!
Red is now free to survey the whole 360 degrees of the DownUnder. He
turns and scans. Tarnation! She’s cleared the fuckin place! Red's
brunette had walked out moments earlier, sobbing and clutching the arm of a
girlfriend who was going to give her a ride home. No one would have really
expected Red to provide transportation. He had the best seat at the bar.
Over in the corner, Stan notices the young man in the cola flavored
pants who had been molested by Red's Wife. He is talking excitedly to a dark
haired woman who has four inches, thirty-eight pounds, and twenty-five years
on him. It takes all kinds.
is getting a little over-excited. This is too much fun! Everyone else that
remains in the bar has been keeping a respectfully shocked volume, but Susan
is howling, and then Stan starts in, and within a few seconds everybody is
Regardless of the other possible consequences from tonight’s actions,
at least there are seats now available at the bar. Lex moves up to a stool
as soon as he walks back in the door, Melinda goes up to join him, and Stan
and Susan soon follow. Lex has just returned from his heroic vigil on Mill
street. Oh boy, does he ever have some good stories to tell.
Stan realizes that this is the absolute best time he's had since 907,
the night he drank Lex's whiskey as they developed the operating principles
for Fungal Propagation. That was a trip, Cindy delivering round after round,
Patrick and Riley popping by with fresh plates of chicken wings and potato
skins. He and Lex had built something brand new from scratch. It was a
useless idea, but what the hey, it had been fun.
Stan had never gotten to see Lex's finished briefing, but many others
had. It was a rather intense composition in it’s own way. Arrows flowing,
titles dissolving. Most people would never be able to comprehend it as a
true thing of beauty.
Rangler, just for a laugh, had sent copies to a few of his cronies who
had cronies of their own, and before long half the people in Lex's section
were chuckling over their own personal hard copy.
There were other people who had seen the briefing and had found it not
so much amusing as intriguing. Stan would freak if he knew that Lex had met
with a couple of gentlemen from the State Department - they had come to see
him - and on the spot he had been offered a job with a
promotion and a staff and a secretary. Lex would have a
significant position in the Knowledge Management section at State. They were
a little bit vague on exactly what the job entailed. Lex fully intended, as
he had been requested, to keep the entire matter to himself. No one had a
need know about the contact. After all, there was no way on earth that Lex
would have actually accepted this job, with its added gravitas and uncertain
responsibilities. That wasn’t the point. It was all about the validation of
Stan orders a round of beers for the folks around the bar. There's
just his group, Vicky, two scruffy guys he's never seen before, the guy from
the Seven-Eleven, and oops, there’s Red. He’s still here?
"Thanks for the drink, man" mumbles Red, barely looking Stan's way.
Red is very red, lobster-hued.
"Sure. Sorry about your old lady."
The red goes up another notch. He is boiling. "She's not my old lady."
"Okay, Red." Stan thinks about the possibility of antagonizing Red for
a little while. He decides not to take the risk, and whispers to Cindy "You
think you could've kicked her butt?"
"Hell no" says Cindy emphatically. "Red's Wife would have eaten me
"I'm talking about Red's brunette." They both start giggling and they
do try hard to hold it in, but it’s futile, they're snorting and snarkling
and it's gotten Red's attention and he's glaring in their direction. Nobody
has to paint him a picture. He knows they're talking about him.
Red downs his beer in four long glugs and holds his stare for a long
time, so everybody just goes ‘doo dee doo dee doo, how bout those Redskins,
I think this year yeah yeah looks like the only ones gonna be getting
anthrax all have blah blah blah some common ground, yeah, doo dee doo dee
doo, see that Viper ain't that a beauty yeah yeah well everybody does love
Raymond, how could you not blah blah blah…’
And the storm slowly passes.
"Can ya get me another beer Cindy? When you get the time." Red is
mumbling to himself, but rather loudly. Worthless bartenders.
Cindy is not listening. The Tsunami Peters Band have her surrounded.
They are mucho upseto,
During the excitement, the bass drum has been kicked in and someone has made
off with the hi-hat. Somebody had better make this right.
“I think your music just got my customers too excited, guys”, Cindy
tells them. “You’re going to have to hold it down if you play here again.”
Four new customers drift in from the street, peeking in tentatively, a
bit spooked by the blue laser lights flashing from the three county cop cars
parked out front. Cindy tells the new patrons that there will be no live
music tonight, the band was just too wild. The four look at the instruments
sitting on the stage, and think that they are being disrespected by the
DownUnder. They skulk back outside, quiet and shame-faced.
Well, this was fun while it lasted. There must be something else to do
now. They’re going to have to move on out and find it. Don't want to sit
down here with old Red all night. Get it on - Stan's back - it's a party
"You know," slurs Lex, and then stops, having lost the thought.
"You know what?" asks Melinda. Her cheeks are flush with excitement
and her dark eyes sparkle. Her hair is damp at the temples. "You know what,
Lex?" she repeats.
"You know, I'd really like to see those Zombies that you guys were
talking about last week." Lex's time frame is a bit off, but his heart is in
the right place. The days have melded into one endless week for him.
"Zombies?" says Susan, as she slowly transforms into a slow-witted
flesh-eating creature from Hell.
"Zombies?" says Melinda, the color draining out of her face, as her
eyes sink back into her head.
"Come on guys, stay. Another round on me," says Cindy. "Don't leave me
here now. The place is almost empty." The two strangers have gone, as has
Vicky. Cindy doesn't want to be stuck here with Red and the Seven-Eleven
dude. The cops are still doing paperwork outside and there’s a scarcity of
souls brave enough to venture in.
Aww, shit. Cindy has been stuck here before with Red on an empty
night. Sullen, morose, silent except for when he needs something - a change
of the channel, another drink. She would offer to buy him a big ass drink,
anything he wanted, if he would just get out so she could close up early.
In reality, Red felt very protective of Cindy, a fact that no one,
particularly Cindy, was aware of. To Red, she looked too frail to be tending
this bar alone. Anything could happen, even if she did pack heat. After
eleven, even Wallace was gone for the night, so there was no potential help
upstairs. Oh yeah, Cindy could protect herself, Red gave her credit for
that, but things could get out of hand around here after midnight. On a
certain level, Red felt that he was staying to protect her.
"Close it on down Cindy" says Stan, knowing that she can't. "Close it
down and you can come with us."
"I'll take the free drink" says Red.
"Fuck you," Cindy says to Red. "This is my biggest tip night of the
week and your wife just trashed the place. Don't you need to go bail her out
"She's still outside," says Red, pointing to the door where blue
slashes of light are still reflecting off the door window. "And she ain’t my
Red gives a blank glance
across the bar just as Stan and Susan begin to walk out. Lex and Melinda
have already slipped away through the back door.
"Heyheyhey, y'all aren't already
leavin, are ya?" Red says. It's like they're supposed to be friends or
something. Susan is flagrantly rolling her eyes as Stan tells Red that they
have to go back to his place and meet with some of his business associates.
Red, having not been born yesterday, knows that this really means
Melinda, that sexy little thing. And probably that guy Ex. And God knows who
else. That goddamn Ex, how come he gets to waltz into town and all of a
sudden he's such hot shit?
Red knows the score. He's got eyes and ears. He knows they're heading
off to watch 'Night of the Living Dead'. He would really like to have been
invited over to Stan's place to watch the damn movie. Hell, he likes
Zombies. Who doesn't?
Red frowns at all the empty stools surrounding him, then moves across
the bar to claim a seat with a real good view of Cindy's behind. She bends
over the sink across from him as she collects and rinses the beer mugs. Fine
ass. He could look at that all night.
And lookie who's sitting
here right beside him. Red hadn't even noticed the turd when he was sitting
in the center square. It's that friggin towelhead from the Seven-Eleven,
that's who it is. Whoo, boy. Ain't he cool? Ain't he a fine looking piece of
shit, all dressed up in fancy black clothes, wearin sunglasses at night.
Faggot's even got an American flag pinned on his shirt collar. That
definitely ain't right. That piece of Arab garbage, wearing a flag. He
should feed that flag to the fucker. Sonofabitch is probably sending Osama
all the pennies from the Diphtheria jar on the store counter.
What to do, what to do, a potential confrontation...
Understandable. An ass kicking is really quite warranted in this type
of situation. It's unbelievable what's going down in this country nowadays.
Ever since Clinton, they've let these foreigners come in and run around free
and wild. They're all sneaking through the cracks, like cockroaches. You
can't just sit there and let them get a foothold. Canada, Florida, Mexico.
It's high time to seal up all those borders, seal them up nice and tight.
But that still doesn't take care of the ones already on the inside.
Red is sitting in the seat previously occupied by Red's Wife. Red
feels much more thoughtful these days, after his cleansing period, high on
the mountaintops. He remembers the flares. He has seen things lesser men
could not even begin to comprehend. He no longer feels the need to react
automatically to other people's words. He's a cool thinker. Now he allows
himself more time to simmer over the questionable things he encounters. He
is less likely to boil over unexpectedly. There is pleasure to be taken in
planning. Certain things take time to come clearly into focus. Certain
thoughts take longer to congeal.
Red turns to Selar, tips
his hat, and says "Howzit goin?"
Selar recognizes Red as the angry man from the store. He remembers
that he is not supposed to like him; the man has snapped out at him for no
reason at all, but honestly, he is having such a good time tonight, he's
more than willing to let it all pass. Water under the bridge, as Mohammed
would have said. The DownUnder is such an entertaining place. Red is
somebody additional that he can talk to.
"Things are going very well for me," says Selar. "I am having quite an
enjoyable time. What did you think of the big fight? I tell you, that was a
most frightening woman."
"Fight, huh? Must've missed it. Probably up in the John."
Up in the john? What might that mean?
"Oh no no. You could not possibly have missed it. You were sitting
right over there, in the middle of it all." Selar points to Red's previous
seat, now occupied by some punk with orange streaked hair. New customers are
starting to drift in, surprised at all the empty stools.
"The frightening woman hit your lady friend right in the face, and
bounced a drum off the top of her head."
"Oh yeah. Yeah. I do seem to remember that."
My goodness, it certainly takes a lot to impress these Americans.
"What's this you're smoking?" Red picks up the green tin of Camels.
"These are Camel Turkish Jade Menthol Lights. They are brand new on
the market. I think the box is most remarkable."
Red removes one and lights it. "Don't mind if I try one, do you?"
Selar doesn't mind. He brought them to share.
Red studies the tin. "That's a good looking camel they got on here. I
bet they got plenty of camels back where you come from."
"No no, I have never seen a real camel before. I believe that most
camels live in the Middle East and in Africa."
'Yeah, right buddy,' Red thinks. 'You lying sack of shit'.
Lies and deception. Misdirection. Treachery.
Red has a plan. It's not a
terribly sophisticated plan, but he does have a plan.
"Hey Cindy, I wanna buy my friend here a Long Island Ice Tea".
"That drink does not contain alcohol, does it?" Selar asks cautiously.
"I do not drink alcohol. That is my personal decision." Selar is finishing
his second Jack and Coke, and feeling a bit light-headed from it. He is
worried that his statement might be misconstrued as rude. This gentleman is
buying me a beverage, he thinks. It would be impolite to refuse.
"Alcohol? Nah. You heard me. It's ice tea. The same kind they drink in
Long Island. That's in New York, little buddy."
"Well then, thank you very much. My name is Selar. What is yours?"
"You can call me Milton." Red lets loose a girlish giggle and winks at
Cindy. She stares back at him blankly, just wishing he would leave. She
knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Red is up to no good.
Selar watches Cindy manipulate the many bottles that are required to
prepare this concoction. It must be a very good beverage to contain so many
different flavorings. She puts a lemon wedge on the side of the glass and
hands it over to Selar. "You okay drinking this thing, hon?"
"Oh yes. I have had ice tea many times before" says Selar agreeably,
taking a sip through the straw. "But rarely have I had one so delicious."